Residual Darkness
by Riverstyxx
Summary: Even in times of peace, darkness still resides. An ancient tribe has returned for revenge on the cheetahs of Avalar, and Warfang is in their way. But, far from saving the world, Spyro may be forced to face his most dangerous enemy yet: himself.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Have I kept you waiting long enough? Well, I've been working on the storyline for this for several weeks, and now I'm finally confident to post this! This is the sequel to my previous story 'Tears of an Oracle', so if you haven't read that, I suggest you go do it! Otherwise you might be a little confused. Now, this story is probably going to be longer than TOAO, but I hope you'll stick with me to the very end. Beware of long chapters...I'm kind of addicted to them. This is the longest first chapter I've ever written, and they're only going to get longer from here. I'm also going to warn you that there will be several main OCs in this story, and I'm going to have my work cut out trying to manage them all and develop them all as the story moves on. Let's see if I can manage it, shall we? So, what's this new story going to centre on? Like many fics out there, Dark Spyro is going to play a large role in this story. However, the cheetah tribe is also going to be a large player in this tale, which is why Hunter is listed as one of the main characters instead of Cynder (don't worry, Cynder is still a main character!). So if you like cheetahs, mysterious long lost tribes, several new characters, and an evil dark side hidden within the main character, then I suggest you keep reading! So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy reading this story! I present to you:**

**The Legend of Spyro**

**Residual Darkness**

The moonless night was dark, and the wind had a bite that caused any creature caught outside to shiver against the cold. But the sky was clear and the stars twinkled like thousands of tiny eyes gazing down upon the earth. A pale creature moved in the darkness, taking slow and trudging steps through the field of stone. His wings were folded tight against his body to stop the wind from whipping them away, and his head hung low to the ground. His colourless scales were as dull as storm clouds in the night.

Even in the darkness, the pale dragon found what he had been looking for. A tunnel led deep into the earth, far into darkness where even the stars could not reach. It was lucky for this dragon that his sight was better than most, but even so he hesitated. His pale olive green eyes lifted to the sky, searching out a moon that was not there. With a shake of his pale head, the dragon moved down into the darkness.

The tunnel led him deep into a cold cavern where his breath rose in plumes of mist invisible in the darkness. He had to strain to see, but somehow he seemed to know the way, as though something was calling him. He moved on, through a second tunnel that led deeper down into the cold earth. His keen eyes picked out a dead torch on the wall, despite the darkness. Without warning, the dragon slashed his claws so swiftly over the rock that sparks flew and briefly lit up the tunnel.

Those sparks landed on the dry tinder of the torch, and a tiny bit of air from the pale dragon's mouth coaxed a small fire to take hold. It flickered gently, grasping hungrily at the tinder, and granted the dragon warm light, if only a little. Satisfied, he took the torch in his jaws and continued on his way. In the light, strange markings on the walls of the tunnel were illuminated. The pale dragon knew he was going the right way.

His steps carried him into a dark cavern where light was non-existent. The nearest torches he lit with the one he carried in his mouth, and flickering light was granted to the dark cave. The dragon caught sight of a huddled shadow on the floor just outside the pool of light. Timidly, he stepped closer.

The torch clattered to the floor as he let it drop from his mouth. Light spilled over the figure in front of him, revealing it for what the pale dragon had feared it would be. Another dragon lay before him, with scales almost as pale as his own and wide blue eyes that stared forever into nothing. Shuddering, he closed his eyes briefly against the sight, his tail curling automatically around him like a shield. The tip of his tail quivered, lacking any form of blade like other dragons had. In the firelight, the stranger's scars were illuminated; glimmering memories of past injuries that barely stood out from his pale scales.

His green eyes opened again, somewhat reluctantly, and he gazed into the sightless eyes of the dragon before him. A sadness radiated from somewhere inside him, as though his heart were crying out in sorrow. But he would not shed a tear.

"This is what has become of you…" he whispered to the dead dragon, raising a paw to his cold face, "It is as I saw."

A wispy sigh escaped his lips and he gently slid the dead dragon's eyelids over his unseeing eyes. Now, if it had not been for the dark stain of blood beneath his body and the obvious slit in his neck, the grey dragon would have looked as though he were sleeping. The stranger could not suppress another shudder, not of horror, but of sadness and regret.

"My brother…" he whispered, knowing the dead dragon could not hear him, "at least nothing can hurt you now. I hope you find your eternal peace."

Without another word, the strange dragon turned away from the dead body of his younger brother and strode away. He paused for a moment to put out the torches and plunge the cavern into darkness, before he left what was to be his brother's eternal tomb.

It didn't take him long to reach outside again. The stars greeted him, but he gave them no heed as he went about his task. Several large rocks he pushed into the tunnel entrance, grunting and huffing at the effort, until at last no creature bigger than an ant could enter it. Never would any creature disturb his brother in his final resting place. With his task accomplished, the pale dragon disappeared into the darkness of the unknown, never to set foot in this place again.

Now he knew it for a fact: he was the last surviving member of the once great Oracle Tribe. And, as far as he knew, the last oracle dragon in all the world.

**1.**

The voice droned on, a monotone hum like the buzzing of a thousand bees. Spyro felt his eyelids droop lower and fought back a yawn as he struggled to stop his head from dropping to his paws. Something about Cyril's lessons always put him to sleep.

Around Spyro, most of the other young dragons were just as inattentive. Cynder had given up the fight to keep her head up and lay on her stomach beside Spyro with her paws folded beneath her chin. Across the room, Flame was snoring on Ember's shoulder as the pink dragoness traced a pattern in the carpet with a claw.

They weren't the only ones in the room. Currently, Spyro's gaze was fixed on a young yellow dragoness, mesmerised by the orb of electricity she was tossing from paw to paw. Lying on his side, her golden scaled brother was watching the orb's movement with a lazy expression. Not far from them, conversing in hushed whispers, were two young male dragons – one blue and one red. They kept shooting mischievous glances at a green dragoness across the room, who sat attentively listening to every word Cyril said.

The blue dragon's sister, a white dragoness with a pale blue underbelly, was also focused on the Ice guardian. But every now and then she passed her whispering brother a disapproving glance. Several other young dragons lay in similar poses of boredom, completely ignoring the constant hum of Cyril's voice.

"…and so when the Council passed the order, there was a great uproar amongst the citizens of the city. Their response was a series of protests led by the Earth Guardian of the time…" Cyril continued his lecture, oblivious to his less-than-attentive audience. All his classes were the same.

Spyro stared at the orb of electricity, passing backwards and forwards between the yellow dragoness's paws. It seemed to pulsate with energy, like a living heartbeat, and was far more interesting than Cyril's dull history lesson. Across the room, the quiet whispers between the blue and red dragons suddenly stopped. That was always a dangerous sign. Sure enough, seconds later, the green dragoness gave a great shriek of surprise as the carpet beneath her suddenly turned to ice.

The sound of her yelp was so loud that it startled everyone out of their stupors, and prompted the startled yellow dragoness to force a little too much energy into her electric orb. The orb exploded, blinding everyone in the room with a brilliant white flash. Blinking, Spyro reopened his eyes as the light receded. Many of the dragons around him were rubbing their eyes, and the yellow dragoness was looking politely stunned as she hid the burnt patch of carpet beneath her paws.

Cyril was not pleased. Glaring at his class, the Ice Guardian grudgingly muttered the words they had all been waiting to hear.

"Class dismissed."

Spyro took a deep breath as he stepped out of the stifling Academy building, before letting it out with an accompanying sigh of relief. Beside him, Cynder giggled softly and Spyro turned to grin at her.

"You hate Cyril's lessons that much, huh?" she smirked, but Spyro's grin only widened.

"No," he said, winking and wagging his tail playfully, "I just like being outside. Race you to the gardens!"

Before Cynder could protest, the purple dragon shot off like a rocket towards the main gardens. But he didn't get very far before a loud voice halted him in his tracks.

"Oi, Spyro! You're not getting away that easily!"

Skidding to an ungraceful halt, Spyro turned sheepishly to face the red dragon that had called him back. Flame had a steely glint in his eye that always meant he was eager for a fight. But that wasn't exactly what Spyro had in mind – even if he had promised Flame a battle after class.

"You owe me a rematch!" Flame grinned as Ember and Cynder rolled their eyes behind his back, "And this time I won't lose!"

Spyro snorted out a puff of smoke, looking somewhat disappointed, "Come on Flame, class just finished!"

Flame's eyes narrowed, "_You _promised me a fight as soon as lessons were over! You can't back out now! Or are you too much of a coward to fight me this time?"

Spyro pretended to look offended. After all, Flame called him a coward at least twice a day and he never truly meant it. It was just a ploy to make Spyro fight and most of the time the purple dragon went along with it for whatever reason. Today was no exception.

"If that's how it is…" Spyro paused and then added, "_If _you can beat me to the gardens, I'll give you your rematch. Deal?"

"Deal!" Flame shot off towards the gardens the second the word rolled from his tongue. Spyro dashed after him, shouting 'cheat!' all the way down the street.

Ember and Cynder exchanged glances. Same old, same old. Giggling at the antics of the males, the two female dragons linked tails and strolled leisurely after them. The gardens were near the centre of the city, so it took several minutes to reach them walking from the Academy in the north-western corner. By the time they got there, Spyro and Flame were already facing each other from across the well kept lawn. Clearly, Flame's head start had won him the race and the chance to fight Spyro yet again.

Cynder and Ember sat down at the edge of the lawn as the battle began, knowing it wouldn't last long. Either Spyro would beat Flame down in a matter of minutes, or Terrador would see that they were fighting in the gardens _again _and give them all a stern telling-off. After Spyro and Flame had almost torn up the lawn during one of their earlier matches, Terrador had banned them from fighting in the gardens. They were restricted to the courtyards, but it didn't seem to stop Spyro or Flame from breaking the rules once or twice a month.

"You won't win, Spyro," Flame promised with a wicked grin on his face, lowering his body into an attack stance. Spyro faced him from across the lawn, smiling his own confident smile.

"Wrong. This time is going to be like all the others," the purple dragon replied, lavender eyes glinting, "Let's get this over with."

Flame wasted no time in attacking, dashing across the lawn in a spray of fire and sending dirt and grass flying beneath his claws. However, Spyro seemed to have expected the move and easily sidestepped out of the way. The red dragon tumbled ungracefully onto the grass and skidded a metre or two, leaving a scorched skid mark in his wake. He was back on his feet in an instant, whirling around to face Spyro who had been stalking around behind him.

The sound of battle must have alerted someone, because a voice suddenly called out from near the edge of the gardens. It was an excited voice, one that drew the attention of Cynder and Ember.

"Fight!" a young red dragon was yelling, his eyes alight with eagerness as he turned around to call down the street, "Fight in the gardens!"

The message spread like wildfire through the streets, and soon young dragons from all over the city were dashing towards the gardens. Cynder rolled her eyes.

"Here we go again," she muttered to Ember as a large crowd slowly grew behind them.

The matches between Spyro and Flame were considered a bit of a spectacle by the young dragons of the city. They'd crowd around to watch and cheer on who they hoped would be the victor. After several battles in which Flame was soundly beaten, most of the young dragons had learnt to cheer Spyro on instead. After all, the purple dragon always won, and who wanted to cheer on the loser? The knowledge that their classmates were watching only seemed to spur on the fighting dragons.

"Looks like your fan club is here to see you beaten," Flame taunted, smoke rising in curls from his nostrils.

Spyro snorted, "I'll believe you when you make good of those words. You've never beaten me once."

"That's about to change!" the red dragon launched himself at his opponent, his fangs gleaming in a triumphant grin. But yet again his claws missed their target, and he landed awkwardly with his back to Spyro.

A simple swipe of his tail was all Spyro needed to sweep Flame's feet out from under him. The red dragon crashed ungainly to the ground and struggled to get up again, accompanied by gales of laughter from the watching crowd. Angry, Flame whirled on his opponent, only to see that Spyro was no longer there. Seconds later, Flame found himself face down in the dirt with Spyro sitting on his shoulders.

"Go Spyro!" roared a yellow dragon from the crowd, "Show him who's boss!"

The words must have triggered something in Flame's mind, because the red dragon's eyes glinted with anger as sudden energy coursed through his body. Spyro looked down in surprise as his opponent's scales began to grow hotter.

"I'll show you who's boss!" Flame roared, spinning a furious half circle as fire curled around him, effectively tossing Spyro off his back. However, his flames also charred a large circular area of grass, turning it ashen black.

Shrieks of admiration and excitement cooed from the crowd in response to Flame's counter attack. Their excitement doubled as Spyro rolled back to his feet and breathed a mist of fine cold air over the lawn, turning a large portion of the grass into a lake of ice. Flame slipped as the grass turned to ice beneath his paws, finding no traction and crashing onto his side as a result. Skilfully, Spyro skated over to his opponent and opened his mouth to unleash another torrent of ice that would freeze Flame to the ground.

However, he never got to deliver that final blow because a loud, angry voice boomed out over the gardens and put an end to their battle.

"That's ENOUGH! What do you two think you're doing?" Terrador roared, causing all those before him to cower. Spyro and Flame froze in position, timidly turning guilty eyes on the earth guardian.

"Step aside," Terrador growled as he pushed his way through the watching crowd. He came to halt at the edge of the frozen section of the lawn, glaring disapprovingly at the two young dragons in front of him.

"Did I not make myself clear last time when I said you were not to fight in the gardens?" the earth guardian thundered, towering over the sheepish Spyro and Flame, "Look what you have done to the lawn!"

Grimacing at each other, Spyro and Flame cast their eyes to the earth upon which they had been fighting. Several spots of grass had been charred black and torn up at the roots, not to mention the large circular sheet of ice that covered the centre of the lawn, courtesy of Spyro. The purple dragon winced at the damage.

"Sorry, Terrador," he grinned timidly, "guess it got out of hand."

"Out of hand?" Terrador stared incredulously at them, "Of course it got out of hand! You shouldn't have been fighting here in the first place!"

The two male dragons glanced helplessly at Cynder and Ember for assistance, but they merely watched from the head of the crowd, their eyes sparkling with what could only be amusement. The rest of the crowd looked on with interest, waiting to see how the earth guardian would punish Spyro and Flame. However, they were to be disappointed.

"Normally, a situation like this would mean serious punishment," Terrador growled, and the two young dragons cowered before him.

"However…" Spyro's head lifted slightly in hope as Terrador continued.

"…as this is the beginning of festival week, I will let you off with only a warning," Terrador concluded, before adding an irritated, "_Don't _do it again!"

Spyro and Flame instantly jumped to attention, almost slipping on the ice, "Yes Master Terrador!"

"Good," Terrador growled, "Now run along. I've got to clean up this mess you made."

Hardly able to believe their luck, Spyro and Flame hurried away from the earth guardian and went to join the disappointed crowd. Clearly they had been eager to see some sort of punishment. Ember and Cynder, however, seemed pleased to have them back in one piece. Spyro opened his mouth to say something, but a glare from Terrador told him to move on and take the crowd with him.

"How lucky was that, eh?" Flame grinned as he, Spyro and the rest of the crowd slowly meandered away from the ruined lawn, "Didn't even get punished."

"Tell me about it," Spyro laughed, "I thought he was going to make us sit through one of Volteer's lectures as punishment! Glad we avoided that one!"

The crowd laughed along with him and soon began to dissipate as small groups headed for different parts of the city. Spyro halted, frowning, as he thought about the reason Terrador had let them off.

"What did he mean, though?" the purple dragon wondered aloud, "Festival week?"

Flame shrugged, clearly just as lost, "Beats me. Do you know?"

He turned to Ember, only to see her and Cynder staring at them as incredulously as though they had just announced they were flying to the moons. Spyro and Flame exchanged confused glances, wondering just what it was that they were missing.

"What?" the males asked together.

"You don't know?" Ember stared in disbelief as Cynder rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, don't you two ever listen?" the black dragoness added with a snort and a flick of her head, "At least _you _should know, Spyro, considering it's to do with you!"

Spyro blinked, staring blankly at Cynder, "What's do to with me?"

Cynder stared, "You know, Spyro, I think all these practice battles have damaged your head. I would think that you'd at least _remember_…"

"Would you just cut to the chase, already?" Flame growled, irritated that he was obviously missing something. Spyro didn't seem to have a clue either.

Cynder snorted, "It's been a year, Spyro. Tomorrow it will be exactly a year since we defeated Malefor. You remember _that_, right?"

Spyro's eyes widened in realization. It was true that it had been a long time since he and Cynder had fought and defeated the Dark Master, but he hadn't known that it had been a whole year ago. The time had just flown by, as though on wings. There was one thing that Spyro didn't understand though.

"How could I forget?" he muttered, scowling at the memory of the former purple dragon, "But what does that have to do with this 'Festival week'?"

Still shaking her head at Spyro's ignorance, Cynder opened her mouth to respond. But someone else beat her to it, and all heads turned towards two new arrivals.

"It's a celebration," said a white dragoness, the same one that had been in their class not moments before, "for you and Cynder."

She and the yellow dragoness who had been playing with the electricity orb in class had been passing by and overheard the conversation. Spyro stared at the one who had spoken. Her scales were an unblemished white, like a fluffy cloud, and her underbelly and wings were as pale blue as the morning sky. At first glance anyone would assume this young dragoness was an ice dragon, like her blue-scaled brother. However, those who knew her knew otherwise.

"For us?" Spyro asked, surprised.

"Of course," the yellow dragoness replied, seemingly surprised that he didn't already know, "You _are_ our saviours."

This dragoness's scales were the brilliant colour of sunflower petals, while her underbelly was such a pale yellow that it almost appeared white. Her violet eyes held an ever-present spark of stubbornness. This was Saffron, an electricity dragoness, and her closest friend, Zephira, a wind dragoness. They had been among those rescued from the caverns beneath the mountain range almost a year ago.

"It's a festival held in your honour to celebrate the passing of the tyrant Malefor and the beginning of a new age of peace," Zephira explained with a shy smile, "You and Cynder will be hailed as the bringers of peace."

"Oi, don't go forgetting about me!" said another, familiar voice, and all heads turned to the yellow dragonfly. He hovered closer, folding his arms as he considered the six dragons, "I'm as much of a hero as they are, you know!"

Spyro chuckled appreciatively, "Good to see you, Sparx. What have you been doing?"

The dragonfly waved a hand dismissively, "Oh, you know, the usual: helping moles, teaching dragons to fly, organising this whole festival thing..."

"Teaching the hatchlings to fly is Mother Seak's job," Zephira giggled, and then blushed when Sparx turned to look at her. She was a very shy dragoness.

"Yeah, I know," the dragonfly shrugged, "But she could use some help. Old Ryokku says I act as her eyes…whatever that means. Just got out of Cyril's lesson did you?"

The dragons all nodded simultaneously, but Spyro's attention was still on this 'festival' he had just heard about. And if anyone knew what was happening in the city, it was Sparx.

"What do you know about this festival, Sparx?"

The dragonfly puffed himself up importantly, pushing his chest out, "What do I know, Spyro? I know everything! After all, I _am _the one organising it!"

The dragons all glanced at each other. Even those who hadn't known Sparx for as long knew that the dragonfly had a tendency to exaggerate things. Was he really in charge of something as big as a city-wide festival? That seemed a bit far-fetched even for him.

"You, Sparx?" Cynder asked, trying to keep the smirk off her face.

Instantly, the dragonfly looked indignant, "What? You don't think I'm capable! Well I'll have you know that I-!"

"Alright, alright, Sparx," Spyro cut in before the dragonfly could blow his top, "We believe you. Now just tell us about this festival."

Sparx turned suspicious eyes on Spyro, folding his arms. He had a feeling the purple dragon was only humouring him in an attempt to know more about the festival. Never-the-less, Sparx was only too eager to say what he knew.

"Well it starts tomorrow," Sparx explained, "Tomorrow's the one year anniversary of Malefor's defeat. A year ago tomorrow was the day we all returned to the surface after you pulled the world back together! So, we're creating a new tradition that we hope will be carried on for years to come! The Festival of the Purple Dragon! All classes are cancelled for the week, and even the cheetahs are coming to celebrate!"

Spyro stared, "A whole week for a festival? That's a bit much, isn't it?"

Sparx shrugged, "eh, maybe so, but there's a meaning behind that. You see, exactly a week after you destroyed Malefor, you returned to Warfang and revealed that you actually survived. Of course, that's when the real celebration happened."

'Oh, I get it now!" Cynder said suddenly, for she too had been wondering why the festival had to be a week long, "The festival starts on the day we defeated the Dark Master, and ends on the day we returned to Warfang!"

Spyro and Flame uttered identical noises of understanding in response to those words, the similar expressions on their faces enticing giggles from the four dragonesses. Spyro felt the blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment, while Flame pretended not to notice.

"So, what do we do for a festival?" asked Flame, who had never attended a festival before. Spyro seemed to want to know that as well.

Sparx waved an airy hand, "oh, you know, dancing, singing, competitions, that sort of thing. We're setting up a market place in the courtyard where you can trade gems for items like jewellery. I hear the moles are pretty good craftsmen when it comes to jewellery and armour. Might be able to get something for your pretty little dragoness over there."

The dragonfly nudged Flame and winked, while Ember blushed furiously and averted her eyes, shuffling her paws on the cobblestones. Flame was instantly embarrassed, but his red scales hid his blush remarkably well. Spyro couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's discomfort, while Zephira and Saffron giggled together.

"We're also organising a ball for the last day of the festival," Sparx continued, bringing everyone's attention back to him, "The main hall's gonna be decorated and everything."

Spyro had never been to a dance before, and the idea intrigued him to say the least. Not that he'd ever learnt to dance before. In fact, the purple dragon had no idea what a dance was supposed to look like. He wondered if Cynder knew. But his thoughts were interrupted by Flame's voice.

"Hang on a sec, did you say that all classes are cancelled for the festival?" the red dragon asked, the slightest inkling of hope in his voice.

Sparx grinned, "Yep!"

Spyro stared, "You mean…that lesson with Cyril was our last class for a whole week?"

Sparx nodded. The dragons were thrilled.

In a large circular building on the west side of the city, a council of dragons was currently meeting. The Council of Avalar often held meetings in the Atrium, one of the largest buildings in the whole city. The ceiling was painted with depictions of dragons, great colourful beasts that seemed to spring from the walls as though they were alive. It arched far above the heads of the council.

"Hard to believe it has been a whole year, eh, Captain?" Ryokku, a very old red dragon with a blind eye nudged the younger green dragon at his side, "'Tis a shame I wasn't around to celebrate with the rest when young Spyro and Cynder returned from the Belt of Fire."

"You forget, Elder, nor was I," Seriphos, the green dragon, replied, 'We were still cooped up in our hiding place, waiting for some sign that all was well. It is a shame indeed."

As Captain of a newly formed guard, Seriphos was often called upon to attend the meetings of the council. It pleased him to know that he was wanted and needed by the city; it gave him a purpose that he gratefully accepted with pride. The earth dragon was in his prime, fully grown and with strength enough to rival his old mentor, the earth guardian Terrador. He was a sensible dragon who put his sense of duty above all else, something that his friends – or acquaintances as he preferred to call them – Naxos and Delos were quick to pick on.

"Be that as it may, we are all here to celebrate their victory now," Terrador rumbled from Ryokku's other side, "And hopefully for many more years to come."

"True, true," Cyril, the ice guardian agreed, sitting several seats away from the earth guardian but still engaging in the conversation, "I daresay this festival will be something to remember."

The council all nodded in agreement with the ice guardian's statement. There were several dragons in the room, most several years older than Seriphos. The four guardians, Cyril, Terrador, Volteer and Thasos had helped old Mother Seak and Elder Ryokku to reform the council almost a year ago. They had inducted three sensible dragons into this council: Elder Moro was an old electricity dragon whose once bright yellow scales had faded with age; Mistress Terrunda was the youngest of the three, a pale green dragoness with warm chocolate-brown eyes; and lastly was Master Feldun, the middle-aged ice dragon that had once led an ill-fated search party and returned two weeks later with several hundred dragons in tow. Along with Seriphos, Mother Seak, Elder Ryokku and the four guardians, they made up the council of Avalar.

"I hear that classes have been cancelled for the week," Seriphos spoke up, "the young ones must be pleased."

Seated on one side of Mother Seak, Thasos the fire guardian chuckled merrily, "yes indeed. Speaking of which, how did your lesson go, Cyril?"

Thasos had once been great friends with Ignitus, back when the two were young. They had trained together, vying for the position of Fire Guardian, though Ignitus had eventually succeeded. Ignitus's death, however, had left that position open and Thasos had, somewhat reluctantly, taken up his old friend's mantel.

Cyril snorted a cloud of ice from his nostrils, "Dismal, as usual. Those young dragons don't know the meaning of respect!"

"Oh, I'm sure they can't be that bad," Ryokku replied with a deep-throated chuckle, "Younglings will be younglings, though."

"Yes, indeed, is has long been confirmed that the physical capability and mental capacity of a young dragon is greatly unbalanced, leading to a decreased period of concentration and therefore an increase in the demonstration of impertinence…" Volteer rattled off several large words in a matter of seconds, not once stopping to draw breath. By now, the council was used to it, though often the meaning of his words went straight over their heads.

"They'll come around," Terrador assured his fellow guardian, "Most of them simply aren't used to spending hours in a classroom, learning of things they might not consider important. Spyro, too. He's spent the greater part of his life fighting to stay alive. I doubt the history of dragonkind seems all that essential to him."

It was true; the Academy hadn't been in use for very long. It had finally been restored to its former glory only three months ago, after having been destroyed in the war with Malefor's army. The moles, cheetahs and dragons had all been working on it, as well as the library, the flying grounds, the hatchery, and the wall, ever since the dragons had returned to Warfang. The wall was the first to be repaired, as it was considered the most important, and it now stood tall as though nothing had ever managed to break through it.

In the North-East corner of the city, the Library had been repaired and many of the books restored to the shelves. It was nowhere near as large as the great library that the Chronicler lived in, but it was big enough. The academy had followed shortly after, restored into the great building that it was meant to be. It stood even higher than the atrium, consisted of many floors and rooms, and was decorated at each floor by magnificent murals on the walls and roofs. Attached to the southern side of the academy was the hatchery, a smaller building where eggs were laid, cared for, and hatched.

The flying ground was as big as the gardens, a huge flat lawn of green grass where young dragons could learn to fly under the instruction of a teacher. The teacher in this case was old Mother Seak, whose element had once been wind before she had become too old to wield it. Despite her lack of sight, Mother Seak was an intelligent and helpful teacher. Many of the younger dragons adored her like a second mother.

Only three months ago, the guardians had announced that all young dragons were to attend the Academy every day, for several hours a day. They only had two days off, and this was a fact that irked many of the young dragons. At first they had been excited by the prospect, but after several lessons in which they listened to Cyril ramble on about his ancestors and Terrador explaining the politics of war, the excitement began to fade. Now lessons were seen only as a chore, save for those times when Seriphos taught them battle tactics and they were allowed to mock battle one another.

There was only once reason why any of the young dragons would want to attend classes. And that was the promise that eventually four of them would be chosen to become apprentices of the guardians, and become guardians themselves. There was quite a bit of competition between young dragons, especially the fire dragons. Flame was certain it was his calling to become the next Guardian of Fire, but the other young fire dragons had other ideas.

"I saw you in the gardens just before, Master Terrador," Terrunda spoke up for the first time, her voice soft like the rustling of wind through leaves, "Did something happen to the lawns?"

The earth guardian waved a large green paw, "oh yes, Spyro and Flame again. I've lost count of how many times I've told them not to fight in the gardens, but they never seem to listen. Spyro almost froze the whole lawn over. They were skating by the time I got there."

"Yes, Spyro always was particularly good with the element of ice," Cyril pondered, the faintest hint of pride showing on his face. After all, _he _had taught Spyro that element.

"Competitive young dragons, aren't they?" Thasos added, "I don't suppose Spyro wishes to become the next Fire Guardian, too?"

But Terrador shook his head, "no, I doubt he would wish to take on such responsibility. As the purple dragon, he already wields so much responsibility. It is rather a shame for a dragon so young."

"But he copes, Terrador, he copes."

All eyes turned to the blind Mother Seak, who had spoken. She had a calm voice, one that instantly instilled silence in all those around her. Her scales were colourless and had lost the luster that they had once had when she was a beautiful dragoness in her prime. Her eyes, too, were merely pools of milky white, blank and unseeing. She was far older than any other dragon in the city, even Ryokku.

"That he does, Mother Seak, that he does," Terrador bowed respectfully to the old dragoness.

A brief silence fell until Feldun broke it with yet another question. This time all eyes turned on him, except for Mother Seak who remained staring straight ahead with her sightless eyes.

"Have we heard word from the cheetahs?" the ice dragon asked, "Are they coming to attend the festival?"

"Hunter sent a hawk just the other day," Seriphos was the one to answer, "Apparently Prowlus is remaining in Avalar, but several of the cheetahs, including Hunter, are travelling here to attend."

Ryokku gave a grizzled smile, his one good eye twinkling gold, "Trust Prowlus not to attend. That old cat is stiffer than I! But come, we have a festival to organise, and sitting around here isn't going to get that done!"

There were mutters of agreement amongst the other members of the council as everyone rose from their seats. Thasos assisted Mother Seak from her seat, and she leant gratefully on him. The fire guardian couldn't begin to imagine how old the motherly dragoness was, but she had always filled him with awe.

"Come, Thasos," Seak wheezed, limping towards the door with him at her side, "There are things we must attend to. I, too, look forward to this festival. And I can't count how many festivals I have attended in my many years!"

Chuckling to herself, Seak allowed Thasos to lead her out of the atrium and into the welcoming air of the streets of Warfang.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Residual Darkness. There'll be plenty more to come! If you wanna drop in a review, I'd be ever so grateful! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

A cool breeze swept through the Valley of Avalar, rustling the emerald leaves of the trees and causing the grass to gently sway. The river lapped softly at the banks as it flowed on through the centre of the valley, a blue snake winding itself through the earth. Somewhere, hidden in the foliage, a bird trilled its high-pitched song. Without warning, the serenity was broken as a thin spear crashed into the river with a startling splash.

Before the spear could fall and disappear into the waters, its owner deftly leapt the sizeable gap across the river and snatched it up as he landed on the opposite bank. Shaking sparkling droplets of water from his fur, the cheetah inspected the end of his spear – and the silvery fish wriggling feebly on the spear-point.

"Good shot, Hunter!" called a voice from across the river.

The golden-furred cheetah glanced up at his friend and grinned as he plucked the dying fish from the end of his spear. It ceased its feeble struggles as Hunter put it out of its misery with a strike to the head with the butt of his spear. He then added that fish to the two others already hanging from his belt, tied by their shimmering tails.

"That makes three," he called to Meadow, who was watching him from the opposite bank, "How many did you have again?"

The darker furred cheetah would have blushed if he could as he held up the tiny fish in his paw. It wasn't much bigger than his palm, miniscule compared to the three that Hunter had plucked from the river.

"Guess my fishing skills could use some work," Meadow chuckled merrily, hoisting his spear over his shoulder, "Shall we head back, then?"

Hunter glanced at the sun, gauging the time by its position in the sky. He shielded his aqua eyes from the glare and deduced that it was just past midday.

"Yes, I want to get a good meal in before we set out for Warfang," he told Meadow, already turning towards the village, "I wanted to leave before midday, but we should still be able to reach the city before nightfall."

"Have you ever been to a dragon festival before?" Meadow asked as he and Hunter strolled casually through the forest towards the cheetah village. The roaring of falling water washed over them as they passed by the waterfall.

"Never," Hunter shook his head, "But it should be interesting. And it will be good to see Spyro again."

Meadow agreed wordlessly, nodding his head as he pondered what exactly a dragon festival entailed. His eyes strayed to the sparse trees along the river banks and he caught sight of grey fur hidden beneath a tatty old cloak. Surprised, Meadow stopped in his tracks to stare. Hunter walked right past him, but had only taken a few steps before he noticed that his companion had halted.

"Something wrong, Meadow?" Hunter strode back to his friend's side.

Meadow pointed a claw at the opposite bank, "is that…?"

Hunter stared at the figure that Meadow was pointing too, and was just as surprised to see who it was.

"The old hermit," he muttered, watching as the figure tottered slowly along the bank.

The hermit was an old grey-furred cheetah that usually lived in a hidden cave beyond the waterfall. He was old and grizzled, and always wore a tattered old cloak that hid his golden eyes in shadow. Hunter followed the hermit's progress with his eyes, watching as he weaved around trees and bushes, leaning upon an old and battered staff that was just as tall as he was.

"What's he doing out here?" Meadow wondered aloud, sounding rather befuddled.

"Who knows," Hunter observed the old grey cheetah with a suspicious eye, "It's not often he leaves his cave. I haven't seen him out here for a long time."

In silence they stood and watched the hermit until he and his tattered cloak were lost to sight amongst the trees. Sighing, Hunter shook his head as though to wake himself from a trance. He shouldered his spear once more and continued on towards the village.

"Come," he called back to Meadow, "Let the old one go about his business. He's harmless, anyway. Let's get back to the village."

But Meadow hesitated briefly before he tore his eyes away from the bushes where the hermit had disappeared. Something about that old cheetah was creepy, and Meadow didn't like it one bit. He'd always lived in solitude, so why would he come out now? Meadow wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, the orange-furred cheetah hurried after Hunter as the village came into view through the trees.

The main courtyard was a bustle of activity. Spyro and his friends had followed Sparx there after the dragonfly had said that help was needed to set up the market place. They paused at the edge of the courtyard, watching as the moles dashed hither and thither with handfuls of nails, long planks of wood over their shoulders, or sheets of canvas spilling out of their paws. Several of the stalls had already been set up around the edge of the courtyard, shaded by canvas awnings.

There were several dragons helping, and Spyro spotted several familiar faces amongst the crowd. He could see Chios, the pale green earth dragoness, helping a pair of moles erect another awning over a small wooden stall. Spyro was about to make his way towards her, when he was almost bowled over by another larger dragon.

"Whoa, watch yourself there, Spyro!" said a cheery voice, and Spyro looked up into the startling blue eyes of the electricity dragon Naxos. The yellow dragon had three thick planks of wood held in place on his back by his strong electric-blue wings.

"Sorry, Naxos, I didn't see you there," Spyro grinned at his larger friend, "You helping too, huh?"

"You betcha," the yellow dragon shifted his wings slightly, causing the planks to wobble, "We've got a deadline to meet! Gotta be done by tomorrow!"

Spyro opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Sparx, who had disappeared before and had just reappeared again, waving his twiggy arms impatiently.

"Alright, move along, move along!" the dragonfly insisted, ushering Naxos away, "No time for chit-chat!"

Naxos snorted Sparx out of his face, "Alright, alright, keep your wings on! See ya 'round, Spyro!"

The electricity dragon moved on, only to collide with a red dragon that had suddenly stepped into his path. The red dragon's cargo, two planks of wood, crashed to the ground as he stumbled.

"Watch it!" Delos snapped angrily, only receiving a cheeky grin from Naxos in return.

"My bad," Naxos winked and weaved around the angry fire dragon, leaving Delos to pick up his own planks.

Muttering, the red dragon did so with a very annoyed expression. He spotted Spyro standing a few meters away, and nodded in recognition.

"Hey, Spyro," Delos greeted, steadying the planks of wood on his back with his wide black wings, "Love to stay and chat, but we've got things to do, y'know?"

And then he too turned around and continued on his way through the crowd. Spyro couldn't help but smirk. The courtyard really was a bit hectic at the moment. He turned around to look for Cynder and saw her following Zephira and Saffron through the crowd. A mole struggling with an awning waved them over, and they hurried to help. Ember trotted after them, leaving Flame and Spyro alone.

"Now what?" Flame asked, clearly not a fan of crowds. He glared as a mole almost ran into him.

"Maybe we should-," Spyro began, only to be cut off yet again as a bundle of canvas was dropped onto his head. He stumbled, startled, and lifted his head back, allowing the canvas to slip down onto his shoulders. Flame appeared to have been given similar treatment. He was looking very disgruntled with a bundle of canvas weighing his head down.

"Carry these, would you, boys?" said the mole responsible for their sudden cargo. A pair of odd, metallic goggles sat upon his furry forehead, just above his beetle-black eyes.

"Mason!" Spyro grinned at the familiar mole, "Where are we taking them?"

Mason beckoned with a small paw, "Follow me."

Flame snorted a disgruntled puff of smoke, but followed anyway. The two male dragons weaved in and out of the crowds, until Mason stopped in front of an awning-less stall. Two other moles were already erecting the wooden poles for the awning.

"Come here," Mason beckoned to Spyro, and the purple dragon trotted closer. The mole grabbed the canvas off the dragon's shoulders and, with the help of the purple dragon, stretched it between the two poles to form an awning. It was secured with several strong pieces of rope.

"Over here," Mason trotted over to the next stall, this time taking Flame's load and erecting another awning.

The two dragons and the mole were just admiring their handiwork, when a sudden crash startled them from across the courtyard. Several female dragons screamed as two adjacent stalls crashed to the ground, the canvas awning fluttering down as the poles were knocked off balance. Three young dragons tumbled head over heels into the middle of the courtyard, tangled up in pieces of rope, their laughter ringing in the air.

Spyro groaned as he recognised the three dragons, resisting the urge to slap his paw against his own forehead. The moles were staring in horror at the two ruined stalls, while the three dragons rolled on the ground in peals of laughter. Saffron, Zephira, Cynder and Ember appeared on the scene, pushing their way through the crowd. The instant Saffron set her eyes on the three dragons, her whole body puffed in anger. Spyro sighed.

"Zannak!" Saffron shrieked, violet eyes burning with fury. The laughter of the three male dragons instantly stopped and they froze in place, piled on top of one another and tangled in rope and canvas.

The golden-yellow dragon, who was on the bottom of the pile, grinned sheepishly at his paler sister. His teal eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Oops," Zannak smirked, jumping up as his two friends rolled off him.

"Run for it!" A blue dragon, one of Zannak's friends, yelled. He, Zannak, and the other dragon, a red one, instantly dashed through the startled crowd.

But Saffron was hard on their tails, looking angrier than ever, "Get back here, you idiots!"

The crowd parted to let her through and she chased them into the streets and out of sight, yelling all the way. A silence fell as they disappeared, broken only by the muttering of the moles as they tried to fix up the ruined stalls. Naxos and Delos moved to help as Spyro and Flame moved over to join Cynder, Ember and Zephira.

The black dragoness shook her head, "Those three again. You'd think they'd learn…"

Zephira sighed, "Ciro never learns. And neither does Kazan, it seems. I think Zannak's a bad influence on them; Saffron would agree with me."

Flame snorted, "Kazan's always like that. His head's too hot for his own good."

"Not unlike yours, huh?" Ember teased, nudging him playfully. Flame scowled and flicked his tail, but didn't reply.

"You'd think Ciro would be more like you, Zeph," Cynder suggested, "He _is _your brother."

But the wind dragoness brushed it off, "Well, what about Zannak? He's completely different from Saffron. It's because they're males, I think."

Cynder and Ember nodded in agreement, "that would make sense."

The two males, Spyro and Flame, exchanged glances. Sounding somewhat offended, they asked simultaneously, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Spyro, nothing," Cynder answered vaguely, before changing the subject, "Do you think Saffron will catch them?"

"No doubt," Zephira sounded as though she had seen this happen many times before, "Saffron's faster than all three of them. It's what she'll do when she catches them that worries me. We'd better go after her."

The wind dragoness trotted after her yellow friend, Ember and Cynder following behind. Spyro and Flame apologised to the moles who were mending the broken stalls, bid farewell to Naxos and Delos, and hurried after the females. It didn't take the group long to catch up to Saffron and the three troublemakers.

She had caught them just outside of the main hall, and was now yelling at them as they sat in front of her. Her voice was shrill with anger, but Ciro and Zannak merely grinned oafishly at her. Kazan, the crimson dragon, was glaring at Saffron with a very annoyed expression. He didn't seem nearly as amused as his two friends did.  
"…always ruin everything!" Saffron was shrieking, "I'm ashamed to call you my brother! And you should know better, Ciro! You should set a better example for your sister! You're our older brothers, so why don't you start _acting_ like it?"

"Would you just shut up?" Kazan snapped irately, "You're always yelling at us about something! I'll bet it's just 'cause you're annoyed about the whole guardian rule! Well, females _can't_ become guardians and there's nothing you can do to change that! So quit taking it out on us!"

The yellow dragoness bristled with indignation, "That's got nothing to do with it, you oaf! And if you keep acting the way you are now, _you'll_ never become a guardian either!"

Kazan was on his feet all of a sudden, his golden eyes burning with anger, "And who are you to tell us what to do, huh? We're older than you; we can do whatever we want, no matter what you say! So _shut_ – _your_ – _face_!"

A piercing shriek rent the air as Saffron flung herself at Kazan. The electricity dragoness and the fire dragon rolled over each other, biting and scratching, as Zannak and Ciro jumped out of the way. They soon began to cheer the fighting dragons on, while Spyro and the others hurried to split them up.

"Not again," Zephira moaned, jumping out of the way as Kazan's lashing tail almost knocked her off her feet.

Saffron had pinned the fire dragon to the ground and was snapping at his neck, but Kazan was stronger than she was. He pushed his hind paws beneath her body and kicked hard, throwing her over his head and onto the cobblestones behind him. Cynder hurried forwards to intercept as Saffron tried to lash out at Kazan again. The black dragoness pushed the yellow dragoness backwards, ignoring her snapping jaws, while Flame and Spyro pulled the furious Kazan away.

Saffron struggled against Cynder, pushing her away with her forepaws, "Get out of the way! I'm going to kill him!"

Cynder stumbled as Saffron's tail whipped across her forelegs, and the yellow dragoness dashed past her. Kazan tore himself from Spyro's hold and met Saffron's charge with equal ferocity. Teeth clashed on teeth and claws scraped on claws as the two dragons each attempted to harm the other.

"Stop it!" Zephira yelled, though she knew they wouldn't heed her.

Zannak and Ciro weren't helping, either. The blue dragon was chanting 'fight, fight, fight!' over and over again, while Zannak was yelling encouragement to his sister.

"Go, Saff! Bite his head off!" the gold dragon laughed as dragons poured out of the main hall to watch the fight.

Shouts filled the air as the younger spectators yelled encouragement to their favourite. Neither Saffron nor Kazan seemed to notice their audience, though. Both were too intent on killing the other to notice anything other than their opponent. They scratched, snapped and snarled angrily, ignoring Zephira's cries to stop and Zannak's enthusiastic encouragement. Any moment now, Spyro knew that a guardian would hear the commotion and come storming over. They'd sure be in trouble then.

Scowling, the purple dragon suddenly forced his way between the fighting dragons and yelled as loud as he could, "Enough!"

His golden wings snapped out as a gust of cold air burst from his body, freezing both the ground and the two angry dragons to the spot. Huffing, Spyro refurled his wings and glared from one frozen dragon to the other. Saffron's violet eyes glared reproachfully at him, but she couldn't move an inch as she was encased in ice. Kazan was in a similar situation, only his face free from the ice, and he didn't look pleased at all.

"That will do," Spyro scowled, "There is no reason for you to fight! You're acting immature!"

Kazan snorted a puff of smoke, glaring at the purple dragon. Spyro turned his eyes to Saffron, but she only glared. Sighing, the purple dragon wondered what was to be done to stop these two from fighting.

"I'll release you if you promise to stop this fight," Spyro told them. He waited for a response, but Kazan only looked away, which was difficult as he couldn't move his head.

"Fine," Saffron spat, finding talking difficult as the bottom of her jaw was frozen and she couldn't move it.

"Good," Spyro took a deep breath and then released it, allowing warm air to seep from his jaws. The ice melted almost instantly, freeing the two disgruntled dragons.

Saffron stumbled from her prison of ice as it melted to water, and shook the droplets from her scales. Kazan did the same, glaring at her as he did so. But Spyro was pleased to see they didn't start the fight again. Disappointed that the action was over, the small crowd slowly disbanded.

"You ok?" Zephira asked her friend as she moved to Saffron's side. There was a scratch along the yellow dragoness's muzzle, but other than that she seemed unharmed.

"I'm fine," Saffron scowled, still glaring at Kazan.

"Hmph," the fire dragon snorted, and turned his back on her. Saffron bristled with anger, but Zephira's restraining paw on her shoulder stopped her from attacking.

Cynder glared at Ciro and Zannak, "You two should be ashamed of yourselves! Egging them on like that…they could have seriously hurt each other! Your own sister, Zannak!"

The gold dragon waved a dismissive paw, "Pfft, it was just a little fun. Right, Ciro?"

"Yeah," the blue ice dragon grinned, "We know they wouldn't hurt each other!"

"Don't count on that!" Kazan snapped, pushing past them with his head held high.

Cynder opened her mouth to say something reproachful, but Flame beat her to it. He planted himself in front of the darker red dragon with a challenging look in his eye.

"Don't think that fighting a girl is gonna make you any stronger than me, Kazan," Flame smirked, "I could still beat you into tomorrow."

Kazan's lip curled, "say that again!"

Flame snarled and strode forward until his nose was pressed up against Kazan's, "You – will – never – win. I'm stronger than you'll ever be."

A snarl ripped from Kazan's throat and he butted heads violently with Flame, "I will defeat you, and I _will _become Fire Guardian!"

He pushed past Flame and strode away, but Flame wasn't about to let him get away with the final word.

"Dream on! Maybe I'll make you my assistant one day!" Flame yelled, smirking, "You know, when _I'm _Fire Guardian!"

Ember nudged her mate, "Flame, don't antagonize him!"

Flame rolled his eyes but didn't answer. Kazan didn't turn around again and had soon disappeared around the corner. Zephira and Cynder were busy telling the other two off, but Ciro and Zannak didn't seem to care.

"Yeah, we get it," Ciro sighed, waving his younger sister away, "Chill, sis. We're just having some fun."

"Fun shouldn't involve disrupting others," Cynder snapped, her emerald eyes glinting angrily, "You ruined two stalls today! The moles have spent all day setting those up! You had no right to do what you did!"

"Alright, _alright_!" Zannak laughed softly, winked at his disgruntled sister, and turned away, "Won't happen again!"

He gave a flick of his black tailblade and strode away with Ciro at his side. Cynder glared after them, clearly irritated by their attitude.

"It had better not!" she yelled, but they didn't reply.

Spyro strode to his irate mate's side and nuzzled her neck gently. She sighed and leant her cheek on his neck, as though exhausted by all the yelling she'd done.

"Leave them be, Cyn," Spyro smiled, nuzzling her neck comfortingly, "They'll grow out of it eventually."

"But they're _our _age, Spyro!" she sighed, "You'd think they'd have grown out of it already!"

The purple dragon didn't know what to say to that. It was true that those three were troublemakers. Ever since they come to Warfang almost a year ago, Kazan, Ciro and Zannak had been more trouble than they were worth. Kazan had become Flame's rival for the position of Fire Guardian, and it seemed he was determined to get it. His scales were a much deeper crimson than Flame's, and his wings and underbelly were rich orange. Spyro had never thought he'd meet another dragon as hot-headed as Flame, but Kazan had proved him wrong.

Zannak, on the other hand, was Saffron's older brother. Spyro had never met a dragon more disruptive or mischievous as this electricity dragon. Unlike Saffron, Zannak's yellow scales were so rich they were almost gold. His underbelly and wings were black, but his bright teal eyes were what made him stand out from the crowd and branded him as a troublemaker. They always seemed to twinkle mischievously.

The last member of their little band was Ciro, the blue ice dragon. He was Zephira's older brother, but he didn't exactly act like it. He was as bad as Zannak, though half of that could be blamed on the electricity dragon. He could be sensible if he wanted to, but the trouble was that he never wanted to. Zephira wondered if he really was related to her, sometimes. He didn't even look remotely like her. His scales were bright blue, and his underbelly and wings were snow white. Even his eyes were different; emerald green as opposed to the bright purple of her irises.

Those three were the greatest of friends, though sometimes Kazan found himself a little out of place. The fire dragon wasn't nearly as playful as his two friends, and he and Saffron had never gotten along. Several times they had gotten into fights, only to be cheered on by Zannak and Ciro. The more they fought, the more they hated each other. And that didn't seem likely to change.

"Zephira," Saffron wondered aloud as they all wandered back to the main courtyard, "Why are our brothers such idiots?"

The wind dragoness paused before she answered, "I don't know, Saffron, I don't know."

Hunter tossed the fish bones into the fire once he had picked them clean of cooked flesh. He shouldered his bow and quiver of arrows, picked his spear up, and looked around for his travelling partner. Meadow was leaning against the wall of one of the huts, chatting to a blue-furred cat, a fish's skeleton swinging from his paw. His spear was propped up next to him.

"You ready, Meadow?" Hunter called after he had kicked the fire out.

The darker furred cheetah looked up and waved, letting Hunter know that he was ready. He then turned back to the cat he was chatting with, said a few inaudible words, and grabbed his spear.

"Leaving now, are you?" Hunter looked up in response to the voice and saw that Chief Prowlus was approaching him.

"Yes, we'll want to get there before nightfall," the golden cheetah patted his faithful spear and cocked an eyebrow at the chief, "Sure you don't want to come? It will be an interesting experience."

But Prowlus waved a paw, clearly unconvinced. Though he didn't mistrust dragons anymore, as he had done in previous years, he wasn't particularly fond of the scaly beasts.

"No, I'm quite sure," the chief wrinkled his nose in a way that made Hunter believe he was rather unimpressed by this whole festival idea, "Being allied with the dragons is one thing, but I don't particularly want to join in their celebrations. I can imagine it now; scaly creatures everywhere, chatting, dancing, doing whatever barbaric activities they usually do; little moles trying to keep up with them; young ones causing havoc as they weave around the legs of adults. No, no, I think I'll be fine right here."

Hunter couldn't help but chuckle at the disdain on Prowlus's face. The cheetah chief never did like younglings.

"Alright, you've made your point. We'll see you when we get back, then," Hunter was eager to get on his way. He hadn't been to the dragon city in a while, and it had been some time since he had last caught up with Spyro.

Prowlus looked around camp, counting how many cheetahs he could see, "How many are you taking with you?"

"Just Meadow and I, and about ten others. We'll be back in a week or so, though I may stay longer."

"An awfully long time for a festival, don't you think?" Prowlus seemed to be liking this festival less and less.

Hunter was about to answer when there was a sudden commotion from the entrance to the village. One of the guards on duty had suddenly gone ridged, as though alerted by something, his spear pointing towards the bushes as he called out, "Halt! Who goes there?"

The whole village stopped to watch as a figure emerged from the trees. His tattered cloak concealed most of his body and the hood over his head left only the tip of his greying muzzle showing. He leant heavily on an old, knobbly staff. Slowly, the old hermit limped his way forwards.

"I said halt!" the guard, a young blue cat, snapped importantly. But the cloaked hermit payed him no heed as he continued to stagger forwards.

When his order was ignored, the young guard chose to bar the entrance with his spear as he glared what seemed like a challenge at the old hermit. The hermit paused as his way was blocked, but soon raised his staff and locked it beneath the guard's spear. A high chuckle echoed from beneath his hood, sending shivers down the guard's spine.

"Move aside, young one!" the old cloaked cheetah ordered in a high, amused voice, "Or I may have to move you myself!"

The guard shuddered in response to the high-pitched grating voice, but he stood his ground and steadied his spear, "You do not have permission to enter our village! Step back and state why you have come here!"

He was answered by another high-pitched laugh and a few mysterious words, "You guard your village well, young one! But can you guard your chief?"

Confused, the guard hesitated and his concentration on his spear wavered, "…what?"

Taking advantage of the guard's sudden lapse in concentration, the old hermit pushed the spear out of his way with his staff. The guard staggered back, surprised by the hermit's unexpected strength. He drew back in alarm as the old cloaked cheetah raised a paw towards his face, unsheathing his claws. But the hermit merely let his paw hang in front of the guard's muzzle, the calloused pad of his paw almost touching the guard's nose.

"You should not be so confident," the old cheetah hissed mysteriously, and the guard felt a chill run down his spine as he met the hermit's shadowed golden eyes.

"That's enough!" Prowlus spoke suddenly. He and Hunter had hurried over to see what the fuss was about, and now the chief had decided it was time to intervene.

Prowlus strode forwards and placed a paw on the young guard's shoulder, firmly pushing him out of the way. The guard stumbled back, surprised by his chief's intervention, clutching his spear protectively to his body. The chief faced the hermit, whose golden eyes could now be seen in the shadow of the hood.

"Old one," Prowlus scowled, "I can not recall the last time I saw you outside your own domain. Why is it that you approach our village now? Is there something you wish to say? Speak!"

A brief silence fell in which the hermit seemed to scrutinise Prowlus with his sharp golden eyes. A smile was slowly etched across his grey, whiskery muzzle, and he emitted that characteristic high-pitched laugh once more. Prowlus looked almost offended, but Hunter could easily distinguish the disgust on his chief's face as he considered the deranged hermit.

"Do you have nothing to say, old one?" Prowlus snapped, losing his temper quickly.

"The arrogant chief will not be chief for long!" The hermit suddenly raised a paw, pointing one black talon at Prowlus's face, "When old acquaintances return, the village will lose its leader! Beware those banished for a thousand years! When revenge becomes reality, overconfidence will be your downfall!"

An uncomfortable silence fell in response to these strange and foreboding words. Hunter's grip on his spear tightened as he felt a shiver run down his spine. But Prowlus seemed completely unaffected by the hermit's statement.

"What nonsense are you babbling, old fool?" the chief snapped, knocking the hermit's paw away from his face, "Has your mind become befuddled in your time away from civilisation?"

The hermit only cackled in response, rocking on his feet as he gripped his staff with both paws. Hunter could tell that Prowlus was getting annoyed, and he stepped forwards in the hope that he might assist.

"Is that all you wish to tell us, old one?" Hunter asked the hermit, though he wasn't really expecting an answer.

"The ancient feud will resurface; those banished will return," The hermit wheezed, smiling a grizzled smile, "and a new chief will take the village under his claws!"

Still chuckling to himself, the old cloaked cheetah began to stagger away from the village. The guards moved to stop him, but Prowlus held his paw out.

"Let the old fool go. He's deranged," the chief muttered in disgust as he watched the hermit stagger away down the path into the trees.

"Beware the black ones…" was the last thing the old cheetah hissed before he disappeared into the bushes, leaving only the memory of his haunting, high-pitched laugh to linger in the air.

No one in the cheetah village spoke for a while after that. Many could still feel the hermit's haunting and mysterious words dampening the air around their huts. But Prowlus only seemed annoyed that such a deranged old creature dare walk on his soil. He turned on his heel, cloak swishing behind him, and strode back into the village with Hunter on his heels.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Hunter asked anxiously, slightly disturbed by the hermit's words.

"Nothing," Prowlus growled in response, "Merely the nonsensical words of a deranged fool. There's no use trying to find any sense in it. His mind has become foggy in his solitude."

Hunter was still a little unconvinced, but he let it slide. After all, Prowlus was the chief and it wasn't often that one dared question the chief. If Prowlus said the hermit's words were nonsense, then they must be nonsense. At least, that's what Hunter wanted to believe.

"I'm sure you're right," Hunter responded after a few short moments, "The old fool didn't know what he was talking about."

Prowlus nodded in approval, glad that Hunter saw things his way, "Good. Now, Hunter, didn't you have somewhere to be?"

"Of course!" the golden-furred cheetah jumped to attention, "I'll be off then! Meadow, are you coming?"

As Meadow and the other ten cheetahs that would be accompanying Hunter to Warfang made their way out of the village, Prowlus called one last thing to his favourite warrior.

"Tell me how it went, won't you, Hunter?"

Hunter laughed and waved as he left the village, "When I return, Prowlus! Maybe I'll bring you back a souvenir!"

But the cheetah chief only smiled wryly in response and watched as his best warrior and several others strode away from the village. The memory of the hermit still lingered in the back of his mind, but a few hours later it would be all but forgotten. He didn't even stop to ponder what the old cheetah's words could have meant.

However, all the way to Warfang, there was only one thing on Hunter's mind. Who were the 'black ones'?

The orange light of the sinking afternoon sun crept over the scales of the purple dragon as he lay relaxing on his balcony. Spyro hadn't been here for long; most of the afternoon had been spent setting up the market place. He found it quite a relief to finally sit down and give his tired paws a rest. But that rest was not to last for much longer.

"Spyro," Sparx hovered into Spyro's room calling the purple dragon's name. It sounded like he wanted something, "Oi, Spyro!"

Reluctantly, Spyro raised his head off his paws and turned to look as the dragonfly hovered onto the balcony. He knew that Sparx had been bound to show up sooner or later, but he had been hoping to gain at least a few hours of peace to himself. What did he want this time?

"Something wrong, Sparx?" the purple dragon queried.

The dragonfly folded his arms, "Old green stuff says he wants to see you about something."

Spyro didn't have to ask who 'old green stuff' was. Sparx always called Terrador that, whether the earth guardian liked it or not. Expelling a sigh, the purple dragon pushed himself to his feet. Like they say, he thought, there's no rest for the weary.

"He's waiting at the western courtyard," Sparx added as Spyro picked himself up.

"Thanks, Sparx," Spyro sighed, plodding towards the edge of the balcony and spreading his wings, "I'll be back soon. I hope."

The western courtyard was just below Spyro's room and he had a view of it from his balcony. As he leapt from his balcony and caught the wind beneath his wings, Spyro spotted the familiar form of Terrador down in the courtyard. The purple dragon glided down to meet him, wondering what it was that he wanted this late in the day.

"There you are, Spyro," the earth guardian greeted as Spyro touched down in front of him.

"You wanted to see me, Terrador?"

"Yes, Spyro, there is something very important that we need to talk about," Terrador replied, much to Spyro's rising curiosity, "You have been training well, haven't you? All four elements are now within your power. You can bend each of them to your will with as much skill as any guardian, as is the purple dragon's destiny."

Spyro stared. He wasn't sure what the earth guardian was getting at. For two days every week, Spyro would train with the guardians to hone his skills with the four elements. It was true that he had been training hard and was now stronger than ever, but what did Terrador need to see him about?

"I'm not sure I understand, Terrador," Spyro admitted, both curious and somewhat wary.

But the earth guardian didn't seem bothered by this, "Don't worry, Spyro, I merely wish to test something. Would you kindly step into the centre of the courtyard? I want you to give me a display of your elements."

Still curious, Spyro agreed and strode into the centre of the courtyard. Once there he turned to face Terrador and awaited further instructions. Was he to verse the dummies that he usually practiced on? He was half right.

"Watch your enemies closely, Spyro," Terrador said, "The puppets I am about to show you are different from the usual. Take note of them and decide which element would be best to defeat them, but if you take too long, _you _will be defeated. Use your instincts, Spyro. Are you ready?"

The revelation that these new dummies would be different, and perhaps even tougher, worried Spyro. He wasn't sure what to expect, or what was expected of him. But, nevertheless, he gave a sharp nod to tell Terrador that he was, mostly, ready. Then all he could do was steal his nerves and wait for the dummies to appear.

"Good," Terrador said simply, "Begin."

The cobblestones around Spyro crackled with energy as several large dummies seemed to appear out of thin air, surrounding him on all sides. Spyro stared at them. They were indeed different from any of the dummies he had fought previously. Rather than straw and fabric, these puppets seemed to be formed entirely of electricity. As arcs of voltage leaped from their bodies, Spyro could barely make out their ape-like forms. He only had a split second to take all of this in before they rushed him.

Alarmed, Spyro opened his mouth to spit fire at them, but remembered Terrador's words just in time. Decide which element would be best… and suddenly Spyro realised what to do. Instead of fire, a large blast of green energy and small rocks burst from his jaws. It struck the first dummy head on, disrupting the electricity that its body was formed of, and dispelled it. Emboldened by his success, Spyro destroyed the remaining dummies in seconds.

But he had no time to rest before new dummies appeared to take the place of those he had destroyed. This time they were different. They were like fiery phantoms, flames flickering and curling to create their bodies. It took Spyro less than a second to know that ice was needed here. Steam obscured his vision as the fiery dummies were put to rest.

Seconds later, new dummies replaced the old, this time formed of what appeared to be water. Spyro was entranced at first by their fluid movements before he remembered he was supposed to be fighting, and shocked them all with electricity. With that done, Spyro readied himself for the next wave of dummies. This time he expected them to be made of earth, and began to plan his assault before they appeared.

What element would he use? He hadn't used fire yet, but he knew that fire wouldn't be any use against stone. Spyro was just considering freezing them with his ice breath, when the dummies appeared. Ice cold air welled up in his throat, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw the dummies weren't what he expected. They weren't made of stone, they were made of ice. And more ice would likely strengthen them.

Spyro had never had to switch elements so quickly before in his life. He was ready to spit ice, and it took all his concentration to change the cold air in his throat into red hot energy. Fire left his jaws in waves, spreading over his icy enemies and melting them into puddles at his feet. When they were gone, the purple dragon allowed himself a sigh of relief. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt slightly short of breath, but he had done it.

"Well done, Spyro," Terrador praised, and Spyro looked up to see the earth guardian wearing a proud expression, "I think you are ready."

Still breathing heavily, Spyro straightened up and strode back to Terrador, "Ready for what?"

The earth guardian considered his pupil for a moment before replying, "It is time to begin your advanced training."

"_Advanced _training?" Spyro didn't like the sound of that. His usual training was tiring enough, but what would advanced training require?

The earth dragon nodded, "Yes, Spyro. You are the purple dragon and it is your destiny to master _all _the elements, not just the four common elements. And there is far more to every element than you realize, Spyro. You will start by learning to control the advanced forms of the four common elements, and then move on to new elements; wind, convexity and time. Then, perhaps, if we deem you ready, you may learn the rarest and most mysterious of all elements."

Spyro stared, "What _is_ the rarest element?"

But Terrador only shook his head, "You'll find out when you are ready to control it, young dragon. For now let us concentrate on earth, fire, electricity and ice, and their advanced forms. It is time that you learnt to control the power you were born to wield."

Though disappointed that Terrador refused to tell him what this rarest element was, Spyro let it go. There were other things to worry about; like this advanced training the earth guardian spoke of.

"Will it be difficult?" he wondered aloud, anxiously.

Terrador smiled kindly, "I won't lie to you, Spyro. It will not be easy. But you are the purple dragon and it is your destiny to do this. You will succeed, I promise you that."

The purple dragon looked away, thinking it over. The promise of controlling more power than any of his friends and classmates was oddly enticing. But the thought of difficult training worried him. Would he still have time to spend with his friends, with Cynder?

"You will need to meet with the guardians every afternoon for training," Terrador explained gently when Spyro didn't reply, "Beginning tomorrow."

The purple dragon's head shot up, his eyes wide with dismay, "Tomorrow? But the festival begins tomorrow!"

"Fear not, Spyro," Terrador calmed his student quickly, "You will still have time to enjoy the festival during the day. But during the afternoon you must do your duty; and your duty as the purple dragon is to harness the elements and their every form. Do you understand?"

Spyro wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Terrador that he would rather live a normal dragon with a normal life than as the purple dragon, forced to wield more power than was wise. He wanted to say that he would rather spend time with his friends than train to increase his powers. He wanted to admit that sometimes he wished that he had never been born a purple dragon. But Spyro said none of this. Instead, he hung his head in defeat.

"All right, Terrador. I understand," he sighed, staring at his claws, "I will begin advanced training tomorrow."

"Good dragon," Terrador smiled proudly, oblivious to Spyro's inner turmoil, "You will meet Thasos here tomorrow when the sun is three suns above the horizon. Now you may go."

Spyro thanked Terrador and bade him goodnight, though the sun was still above the horizon, before he flew back to his room. He found Sparx there, fast asleep on his cushions, and curled up next to him. For several hours the purple dragon sat and stared out at the sky, thinking dark and dismal thoughts. Only when the moon was high in the sky and the city was washed in its midnight glow did Spyro finally close his eyes.

But his sleep was restless and full of worrisome dreams.

**A/N: First things first: Holy cookies! 19 reviews on the first chapter? I didn't realise you all loved me so much. ^^ So, that's the second chapter over and done with. Ok, so not much happened...again...but for the moment I'm just introducing OCs and building things up until the real plot begins (chapter 4 should be the beginning of the 'good stuff'). I just had to add the creepy old hermit into this chapter. I realized that I hadn't included him in the plot of this story, which was a shame because I love that crazy old hermit! So I stuck him in here, and he's all 'ooooh, I know something you don't know!' for some reason. And Spyro's advanced training was something I came up with while writing this chapter. I've already planned out the entire plot for this story, but I usually end up adding things and changing things as I go until it ends up entirely different to how I thought it would (the same thing happened with ToaO). So yeah, special advanced training...you'll find out what that's about next chapter. One more thing before I leave you to wait for the next chapter: to anyone who read the first few chapters of Hollow Heart before I discontinued it - *points at Zannak* remember him? He hasn't changed a bit since I created him back then. His sister however...well, Saffron's name was once Esmeralda and she's undergone a redesigning. Same goes for Zephira, who was once the grey wind dragoness Kasumi who was changed to an ice dragoness called Tundra before being changed back to the wind dragoness that Zephira now is. I love wind dragons...**

**If you're lucky I might surprise you with another chapter for Christmas! Until then, thankyou for reading and thanks to those nineteen reviewers (because you're all freakin' awesome and you made my day)!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Why so quick an update, you ask? This, my lovely readers, is my Christmas gift to you! I had wanted to write a special Christmas one-shot, but Alas! With all the craziness of the Christmas season - I was totally unprepared for it - I'm afraid I ran out of time. So instead I give you this. Good enough? Excellent! Read on!**

**3.**

"Wake up, wake up! Come on, sis, wake up!"

Saffron groaned and draped a paw over her eyes, blocking out the bright morning light of the sun. But she couldn't block out the excited yells of her brother as he crashed through her door and pounced on her back. It might have hurt if the cushions hadn't absorbed the force with which he landed on her.

"Get up, get up!" Zannak insisted, grinning widely, "Today's the first day of the festival! You're not going to sleep through the whole thing, are you?"

Saffron shifted her paw and twisted her head around to glare at her brother. He had pinned her against the cushion she had been sleeping on, his forepaws pinning her pale wings against her sides.

"Sometimes I wonder if you are the oldest, Zannak," the yellow dragoness growled, "Anyone would think you're a hatchling with the way you act!"

As usual, Zannak's only answer was to laugh, much to his sister's annoyance. Bunching the muscles in her back and legs, Saffron pushed upwards as hard as she could. Her brother was heavier and stronger than she was, but Saffron's sudden movement caught him off guard and he rolled off the cushions and onto the floor. Still grinning like an idiot, Zannak rolled to his feet and danced towards the door.

"Come on, Saff, come on!"

Saffron yawned and stretched, taking a moment to glance out at the pale blue sky of morning. She knew the longer she stalled, the more impatient Zannak became. But her golden brother had long learnt how to deal with his stubborn sister.

"Bet you can't beat me to the hall," he whispered in her ear, a devilish smirk on his face.

Saffron's eyes flashed, "You're on."

They dashed out of the room like startled deer, leaving the door swinging on its hinges as they tore down the hallway and out into the streets. Kazan was left windswept as they dashed passed him, leaving him in the dust. Snorting a cloud of smoke from his nostrils, the fire dragon took off in pursuit of the siblings. But he was forced to skid to a halt when he almost bowled over Flame and the pink dragoness Ember as they strolled leisurely towards the main hall.

"Watch where you're going!" Flame snapped at the fellow fire dragon, shielding Ember from the dust that Kazan had kicked up.

Kazan snarled in response, baring ivory fangs in a wordless challenge. On most mornings Flame would take that invitation and pounce on his adversary like a predator catching its prey. But this was a morning he had promised to spend with Ember, and no dragon, hot-headed or not, was going to ruin that.

Flame merely rolled his eyes and turned his back on the darker red dragon, flicking his tail across Kazan's muzzle. He ushered Ember away with a wing around her shoulders, his head held proudly high. Offended by Flame's blatant refusal of his challenge, Kazan pushed roughly past the pair, jostling them as he pushed between them.

"Get out of my way," he snarled, knocking Ember off balance, and tore off again in a cloud of dust.

"Jerk!" Flame yelled after him. He placed his wing around Ember again, who had been knocked onto her haunches by the ruffian, and coaxed her back to her feet.

"I'll deal with him later," Flame promised her, but she only rolled her eyes and snuggled closer to his side.

Kazan didn't catch up with the electric siblings until they had made it to the main hall. Saffron was gloating, her head held high and a triumphant grin on her muzzle. Zannak, on the other hand, was lying flat on his stomach with his tongue hanging out, panting. Kazan had always known that the electricity dragon wasn't exactly fit. But he made up for it with strength and power.

"Beat you!" Saffron laughed, tossing her head, "Again! You should know better than to challenge me to a race!"

Zannak smiled weakly in response, still panting as he caught his breath back. For a moment Kazan stopped and stared at the electricity dragoness, entranced by the way the morning sun seemed to glance off her brilliant yellow scales, causing her whole body to shimmer with light. But a second later he remembered that this was the dragoness he hated, and shook the thought out of his head.

"You might be fast, Saffron, but we all know you're hopeless when it comes to competitions of strength," Kazan taunted, striding over to the siblings.

Saffron turned a glare on him, her eyes full of hatred and disgust, "shut it, hothead, this has got nothing to do with you. Go annoy somebody else with your idiocy."

"Maybe I will," Kazan answered her, brushing passed her roughly, "Who'd want anything to do with you, anyway?"

Saffron glared at him as he disappeared into the hall, completely ignoring her panting brother as he pushed himself back to his feet. Zannak bounced towards the doors, his energy miraculously returning.

"Be happy, Saff!" he grinned, "There's no class today!"

And then he was gone, the huge doors swinging shut behind him. Saffron rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. He was right after all.

"It's good to be back here," Hunter sighed, sinking down onto one of the cushions that had been laid out along each side of every table in the main hall.

The cheetah's aqua eyes took in all there was to see in the familiar hall: the four long, low tables; the cushions that acted as seating; the high wooden ceiling and the crisscrossing banisters. Then there were the hundreds of dragons that filled the hall, talking, laughing and eating beside one another. It was, the cheetah thought, an amazing thing to witness.

"So many dragons in one place," Meadow nodded in agreement, "It's hard to believe that, only a year ago, this whole city was almost empty. Now look at them all!"

Hunter chuckled, "It certainly is a lively place."

He watched, pleased, as the cheetahs he had brought with him mingled freely with the dragons. It was good to know that there were no worrying divisions between their two species.

"Hunter! When did you get here?"

The cheetah looked up in surprise to see the purple dragon striding cheerfully towards him. Spyro was bigger than the last time Hunter had seen him, but not too much. His muscles were a little bulkier, his horns a little thicker and longer, and he was now almost up to the cheetah's shoulders in height. If he were to stand on his hind legs however, Hunter knew the purple dragon would stand far taller than he. His wings, too, seemed to have grown in span.

Spyro was wearing what looked like a large dear-skin pouch. It hung against his flank, held in place by two ties that crisscrossed under his belly and were secured by a knot against his chest just at the base of his neck. The pouch was stuffed full of gems.

"Spyro! It is good to see you, old friend! You've grown!" Hunter stood up to greet the purple dragon, holding out a furry hand for Spyro to shake, "We only arrived yesterday at dusk. The guardians told me you were training with Terrador."

Spyro raised a paw, balancing on three legs, and clasped Hunter's hand companionably, "I'm not a hatchling any more, Hunter! How are Prowlus and the rest of your village?"

"We're doing fine," Hunter replied, sitting back down and beckoning Spyro to do the same, "I tried my best to convince Prowlus to come, but you know how stubborn he is."

Spyro nodded in understanding before noticing the cheetah beside Hunter, "Meadow, you came too! It's good to see you!"

"And you, Spyro," Meadow grinned in reply, before gesturing at the hall with a sweep of his paw, "It's amazing how many dragons there are in the city now!"

The purple dragon laughed, "I guess so! I've gotten used to it now. Although, things were a little more peaceful when there were only a few of us living here! But it's good to have the city so lively. Everyone seems really excited about this festival. The guardians should be here soon to announce the official beginning of the celebration."

The mention of the guardians reminded Hunter of something, "Hmm, how goes your training, Spyro? Are you doing well?"

Spyro smile faltered for a brief moment. He had been trying to block the thought of advanced training out of this head, at least until this evening. None of his friends knew about it; he hadn't told anyone, not even Sparx. He wondered what Cynder's reaction would be when he told her he now had even less time to spend with her.

"It's…it's going fine," Spyro forced a smile back on his face, "Terrador thinks it's time to step it up a notch, now. He thinks I'm ready."

"Of course you're ready," Meadow waved a dismissive hand, laughing, "You're the purple dragon! You're ready for anything!"

Spyro was strained to keep smiling, and Hunter must have noticed because he placed a comforting hand on Spyro's shoulder and said, "What Meadow means is that we're sure you'll do well, no matter what the guardians throw at you."

This time, Spyro's smile was genuine and grateful, "yes, thank you, Hunter."

Changing the subject, Hunter glanced around for the usual familiar faces, "Where are Cynder and Sparx this morning?"

"Sparx is still asleep," Spyro chuckled, "He's been working hard to organise this festival on time. And Cynder is…"

"Right here," said the black dragoness's voice, and three pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

Spyro smiled at her, and the two cheetahs leapt from their seats to greet her. She giggled as they mock bowed and ushered her over to a seat next to the purple dragon.

"It's good to see you both," Cynder told the cheetahs as she nestled down onto the same cushion as Spyro. The purple dragon didn't seem to mind at all; in fact he wrapped his wing around her and pulled her closer.

"Likewise," Hunter replied. Like Spyro, Cynder appeared to have grown in the last year. She was taller and more filled out, and her neck and tail seemed to be slightly longer, making her appear even more elegant than Hunter remembered. She was sleek, yet curved in all the right places, and her eyes shone like emeralds. Looking at the pair of dragons, Hunter reminded himself how lucky Spyro was to have such a beautiful dragoness in his life.

"I see you two are as friendly as ever," the cheetah commented slyly, causing both dragons to blush in embarrassment.

"Tell me about it! Those two hardly ever leave each other alone!" Sparx complained as he hovered up behind them.

"Sparx!" Spyro cried, and then smiled at his adoptive brother, "I see you're finally awake."

"Yeah, yeah," Sparx waved him off and hovered over to Hunter, "I see you cats finally decided to arrive! How's it going, eh, Hunter?"

The cheetah raised a paw for Sparx to shake, but the dragonfly's tiny hands could only grasp one of his fingers, "So I hear you're the one in charge of this festival, Sparx?"

The dragonfly puffed his chest out importantly, "You've got that right! And don't let anyone tell you otherwise! I've been working my tail-section off trying to get things ready for today and the rest of the week!"

"For once he's not exaggerating," Spyro grinned as Sparx hovered down to rest on his horn, "Well, maybe a little, but he has been working really hard. I haven't seen much of him since about a week ago!"

"At least he's making himself useful for once," Cynder smirked, glancing slyly at the dragonfly. But Sparx merely waved her off; he was quite used to her sly comments by now.

The next few minutes were passed with friendly banter, and they were soon joined by Flame and Ember. Hunter noticed that they, just like Spyro and Cynder, had grown somewhat in the last year. Flame, especially, was a lot bulkier than he used to be; his scales were almost bulging with muscle. Ember too, though less sleek and elegant than Cynder, had filled out into a very curvy figure. Hunter was also pleased to see the relationship between Spyro and Flame was now a lot friendlier.

Spyro was just telling Hunter about classes and the new friends he made, when the guardians strode into the hall and a hush fell over the crowd. Every eye followed as the guardians strode the length of the hall and turned around to face everyone in it. Spyro noticed that Old Ryokku and Mother Seak had joined them.

"Citizens of Warfang," Terrador began, gazing around the room, his eyes pausing briefly on Hunter and Spyro, "and guests of Warfang; as you know, we have gathered here to pay tribute to two very special dragons – dragons to whom we owe our world and our lives. It is thanks to them that we stand here today, together in an age of peace, and is to them that we give thanks for this priceless gift. They have given us everything, and all we can offer in return is our eternal gratitude. Today is the day we give thanks to Cynder, the black dragoness, and Spyro, the mighty purple dragon, saviours of the world!"

A mighty roar of approval almost lifted the roof of the Great Hall. Spyro and Cynder blushed, embarrassed and a little overwhelmed, as the dragons nearest to them approached them with thanks and congratulations. Even Flame clapped Spyro heartily on the shoulder, winking and grinning.

"Saviour of the world, huh?" the red dragon grinned, "You deserve all the praise you can get, but one day I'll defeat you. Until then I guess I'll have to call you the mighty purple dragon!"

Spyro laughed, "Call me that all day and I might not think twice about knocking some sense into that thick skull of yours!"

"Try all you want, Spyro, but it's a whole lot thicker than yours!" Flame grinned back, bonking his head against Spyro's in an effort to prove his point. Cynder and Ember chuckled at their antics.

"And now," Cyril roared over the crowd, "it is time for the festival to begin!"

The roar of excitement that followed was even louder than the previous one, and there was soon a stampede for the door. Spyro, Cynder, Ember, Flame and the cheetahs stayed in their seats until the majority of the crowd was gone, hoping to avoid being crushed. Across the hall, the purple dragon saw Zephira and Saffron doing the same. Their brothers had already run off, it seemed, taking Kazan with them.

"Time to check out the market?" Cynder asked, standing up once most of the crowd had left the hall.

"Sounds good to me," Ember replied cheerily, jumping up and linking her tail with Cynder's. They strode for the door with the males, and the cheetahs, following behind.

"Wait for us!" Zephira called as she and Saffron hurried to catch up with them. They left the hall together, stepping out into the streets.

Most of the crowd was heading towards the gardens and the courtyard, the latter of which had been turned into a marketplace. After a few moments in which Hunter and Meadow were introduced to Zephira and Saffron, Cynder and Ember led the group towards the market place and the music that seemed to be coming from the gardens. The courtyard was already a hive of activity.

"Look how many dragons there are," Zephira cried, as they stopped at the edge of the market and watched the crowd mingle about.

"It'll be difficult to look at any of the stalls with this many dragons," Spyro muttered, while Flame nodded his head in agreement.

"Perhaps we should come back later," Saffron suggested, "There might not be such a big crowd then."

Though Cynder and Ember would have preferred to peruse the stalls, they all agreed that Saffron's idea was best. On a whim, and wondering where the music was coming from, the group made their way leisurely through the gardens. There were fewer dragons here; some merely sat in the shade of the trees and enjoyed the fresh air, while others seemed to be heading towards the music just like Spyro and his group were.

Upon reaching the centre of the gardens, the group discovered that a small wooden stage had been set up on the lawn – the same lawn that Spyro and Flame had almost destroyed only the day before. Terrador seemed to have done a good job at repairing it, though Spyro had no idea how. It was what was on the stage that caught their attention, however. Several moles stood upon the wooden platform, and it was them that the music was coming from, much to Spyro's surprise.

Three of the moles held bone flutes in their paws and the music which came from them was soft and peaceful, like bird calls. Another three moles held different instruments, like small wooden paddles with tree fibres stretched over them. They plucked the fibres with their claws, and the reverberations created notes that seemed to hang in the air. In the centre of the stage, the last mole sat with a most peculiar instrument. He held a strip of wood bent into a C shape, almost as large as he was, and was plucking the tree fibres that were stretched taught between the top and bottom. This, Spyro had learnt from one of his lessons, was called a harp, and it made one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.

The combination of the instruments created a peaceful, rolling tune that swept over the gardens like a soft wind. The purple dragon had never heard anything like it before, and nor had any of the other dragons. But the cheetahs smiled at the reminiscent sounds and grinned at each other.

"When was the last time you got your flute out, Hunter?" Meadow inquired of his friend.

The golden-furred cheetah shrugged, "I can't say I remember. And what about you? I'm sure you've still got a banjo stashed away somewhere."

Meadow chuckled, "music was never my forte. We should suggest a music night to Prowlus once we return."

"Oh, he'll like that," Hunter replied, the faintest hint of sarcasm painting his words.

"You've seen instruments like these before, Hunter?" Spyro asked, surprised.

"Oh yes, I used to be a master flute player," Hunter boasted, which was quite unlike him, "Until I decided I was better with a bow and arrow."

"I'd like to see you play one day," Cynder smirked, much to the cheetah's embarrassment, "If you're as good as you say you are."

Hunter chuckled sheepishly, "only if I remember how to play."

The group had just decided to sit down and enjoy the music, when Saffron suddenly jumped to her feet. Three very familiar dragons had just appeared on the scene, clambering up onto the stage with the moles. The electricity dragoness narrowed her eyes at her brother and his friends.

"What do those three think they're doing?" she hissed, and Spyro tensed in case of trouble.

The music ceased abruptly as the three dragons began to whisper inaudible things to the moles. Saffron looked like she was about to storm over there and give them a piece of her mind, when Zannak, Ciro and Kazan suddenly jumped down from the stage. The moles started to play again, but with a much livelier and faster tune. Spyro stared. The three troublemakers had lined up on the lawn in front of the stage and had begun to dance in time with the music.

Dragons from all over the gardens approached to watch as Zannak and his two friends showed off for the crowd. They danced however they wanted; on two legs or four legs, in the air or on the ground, together or solo. At times they leap-frogged over each other, or reared up and clasped paws before spinning away from each other. Each step they took was in time with the beat of the lively melody, and soon other dragons were joining in.

Spyro couldn't help but grin, "well, what do you know, seems like not all of their ideas are bad."

"Cynder, let's dance!" Ember insisted, and she and the black dragoness were soon joining the dancing crowd in front of the stage.

Spyro felt a small pang of jealousy in his chest, but said nothing. Flame snorted and dropped his head on his paws.

"Don't look at me," the red dragon grumbled, "I ain't dancing."

Flame kept his word. Though Saffron and Zephira eventually joined the crowd, he refused to get up and dance. Spyro stayed with him, merely watching, even when Meadow and Hunter decided they'd join in. Watching the cheetahs dance was an amusing experience, but the purple dragon had something else weighing on his mind – this afternoon's training. No matter how hard he tried not to think about it, it continued to worm its way back into his head. And until the dancing finally stopped about an hour later, Spyro had nothing else to think about.

"That was fun," Cynder said breathlessly, as she and the others returned to Spyro and Flame, "You should have joined in Spyro!"

The purple dragon merely grunted in response, shaking the worrisome thoughts of training from his head. The black dragoness was looking in the direction of the courtyard.

"Should we try the market again?" she suggested, and everyone was all for it.

'_It should take my mind off things,_' Spyro thought as he followed the group to the market place.

Once there, they noticed that the crowd had thinned noticeably. Pleased, they began to walk amongst the stalls and admired the glittering merchandise. Ember and Cynder quickly disappeared into the crowd, eager to find something to buy. Spyro and Flame walked slower, glancing at each store, stopping to inspect items of jewellery and armour along the way. Spyro was just inspecting a rather handsome silver helm, when Cynder suddenly appeared beside him.

"Come with me," she whispered in his ear, wrapping her tail around his leg. He allowed her to pull him through the crowd and saw Flame being given similar treatment by Ember.

Seconds later, after weaving around two bickering dragons, Cynder stopped in front of a stall and looked pointedly at Spyro. He leant around her to inspect the items of jewellery laid out in front of him. There were gold chokers and silver chokers on display, several with precious gems of all different colours set into them. Cynder pointed towards one on the far left.

Spyro stared at it. It was more of a necklace than a choker, a shimmering silver band that curved around at the back and tapered to a point at the front in an almost tear-drop shape. It was curved in a way that it would sit comfortable on a dragon's chest. Set into the silver band, just above the tapered point, was a glimmering emerald. It was a perfect circle, domed like a half sphere, and perfectly matched the colour of Cynder's eyes.

"Buy it for me?" the black dragoness pleaded, her eyes wide as sauces as she smiled at him.

Blushing, Spyro glanced at the necklace again and decided that it would indeed look lovely on her, much better than the plain old choker she usually wore. The mole who was running the stall was hoovering in front of them, waiting for Spyro to make a decision.

"Go on, Spyro," the mole insisted, for everyone knew the purple dragon's name, "You can see how much she wants it. I crafted it myself, you know, as I did everything at this stall."

"How much do you want for it?" Spyro asked anxiously. He wasn't sure how many gems he had in the little pouch strapped to his back.

"For our two saviours?" the mole paused, tapping his chin, and said, "I'm after some of those blue gems for a new set of jewellery. I'd say three gems should just about do it."

Sighing, Spyro undid the knot on his chest that held his pouch, and rummaged through it for the right amount of jewels. He pulled out three blue gems, just what the mole had asked for, each about the side of his paw. The mole's eyes lit up.

"I say, those are big gems!" he held his paws out eagerly, "The necklace is all yours!"

Leaving the gems in the mole's possession, Spyro plucked the necklace from the stand. He turned to the expectant black dragoness.

"You're going to need to take that choker off," he told her, and was surprised when she blushed.

"I actually…can't reach it myself," Cynder admitted, averting her eyes, "Could you…?"

Spyro felt the blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment, "r-right."

Placing the necklace back on the stand briefly, Spyro shifted closer to Cynder and raised a paw up to her neck. His claw sought out the tiny groove in the back of the choker, in order to remove it. Being this close to Cynder still gave the purple dragon shivers, and at the moment his chest was pressed against hers and his cheek was resting against her head. He wondered if she could feel how hard his heart was beating.

At last he found the groove in the choker and used his claw to unclip it. It opened at the back, along Spyro to pull it off Cynder's neck and drop it on the ground. Cynder's emerald eyes stared at him, and Spyro felt his heart beat even faster as he realized his job wasn't done yet. Taking the necklace from the stand, Spyro unclipped it at the back and slipped it around Cynder's neck. He pulled her closer to clip it back up and blushed when he felt her warm breath on his neck. Gulping, Spyro quickly stepped back and admired her.

"How does it look?" the black dragoness enquired, with a sultry glance at the purple dragon.

Spyro's cheeks felt hot and he couldn't quite find the words to answer her question. The necklace did indeed look lovely on her. It sat perfectly around the base of her neck, curving over her shoulders and tapering to a point in the centre of her chest. The emerald seemed to bring out the colour in her eyes – Spyro had always loved her eyes.

"A-amazing," the purple dragon replied breathlessly, and Cynder almost glowed with happiness.

"Cyn! Cynder!" at that very moment, Ember came dashing though the crowd with a glow of excitement in her eyes, "Look what Flame bought me!"

Cynder turned to look as Ember struck a pose to show off her new set of anklets. They were gold and set with rubies, a perfect match to Ember's ruby heart necklace. Cynder grinned and struck her own pose, puffing her chest out in a way that the light caught the emerald on her necklace and made in shine. Ember's eyes twinkled with admiration.

"Oh, Cynder, it's beautiful!" she cried, "Did Spyro buy it for you?"

"You betcha," Cynder winked, "Those anklets look lovely on you."

As the two females admired each other's new jewellery, Flame pushed his way through to Spyro's side. There was a look of exhaustion on the red dragon's face, and he cast the two dragonesses a long-suffering glance. Spyro smirked at his expression.

"Ember roped you into buying something, huh?" the purple dragon asked.

Flame nodded slowly, "Rotten mole almost robbed me of every one of my green gems. How 'bout you? You buy that necklace for Cynder?"

Spyro grimaced, "Yeah, at the price of most of my blue gems. At least she's pleased."

Flame snorted, "Females…"

The rest of their conversation was interrupted as a voice boomed out over the crowd and caused every dragon to stop in their tracks and stare.

"Come one, come all!" boomed out a voice that Spyro easily recognised as Naxos, "To see the magnificent fire breathers! See them breathe fire in a way that you have never seen before! They are the Fire Masters!"

Spyro and Flame exchanged glances. Without a word, the two males pushed their way through the crowd towards the stage at the far end of the courtyard. Most of the crowd was now heading that way as well, and the males lost sight of Cynder and Ember amongst them. They stopped in front of the stage, getting jostled by the crowd, and saw that there was a small group of fire dragons up there. Naxos stood to the side of the stage.

Spyro gazed at the fire dragons on stage. There were five of them, and he recognised Delos amongst them. They were all full-grown males in their prime, eyes blazing proudly as they prepared to show of their skill to the crowd.

"Watch them roar!" Naxos called over the noise of the crowd. The response from the 'Fire Masters' brought many gasps of admiration from the audience as they lined up together and simultaneously spat five geysers of fire into the sky. Their combined roars seemed to shake the stage.

"Pfft, that's not so great," Flame snorted, rolling his eyes. Spyro smirked in response.

"Feel the untameable fire!" Naxos called. Several among the crowd screamed as jets of fire shot over their heads and curled into intricate shapes in the air. They dissipated moments later, raining sparks down on the heads of the spectators.

Several interesting fiery manoeuvres followed after that, as the Fire Masters bent their flames into strange shapes and interesting objects. The crowd was deeply impressed when they created a tornado of fire that spun above their heads and sent sparks flying through the air. They even performed daring tricks. Cynder and Ember were impressed when one of the fire dragons created a ring of fire in the air, and another leapt cleanly through it. But through it all, Flame seemed decidedly unimpressed.

"Show-offs," he grumbled, "They're just doing silly tricks."

Spyro shrugged. He was enjoying the show too much to agree with Flame, but he had to say that his friend had a point. Finally, Naxos called above the crowd in a finishing tone, "Fear the Fire Dragon!"

The Fire Masters leapt almost to the edge of the stage and opened their jaws wide. Flames burst from their maws, twisting together into the shape of a majestic dragon that soared over the heads of the awed crowd. Embers rained down from the fiery dragon's wings as it twisted and soared upwards into the sky before disintegrating into a shower of sparks. As the last of the embers fell and disappeared, the crowd suddenly broke into applause.

"The Fire Masters, everyone!" Naxos yelled, sweeping a wing out to the performers as they bowed to their audience. And still, Flame was not impressed.

"I could do that," he snorted arrogantly, and was surprised when he heard someone echo his words. Angrily, Flame turned quickly towards his right and saw that Kazan was standing nearby, clearly haven spoken the same exact words at the same time. Their eyes met in a flash of anger.

"You think an amateur like you could pull something like that off?" Flame snarled, and Kazan instantly bristled. Spyro sighed and stayed quiet, waiting to see how this would pan out.

"Better than you could," he snapped back, baring his fangs in a snarl. Spyro looked around for Zannak and Ciro, but they were nowhere to be found. Perhaps they were still dancing in the gardens.

Flame's eyes narrowed, "bring it on."

Before Spyro could stop them, the two fire dragons had charged forwards through the crowd and flown up onto the stage. The whole crowd stopped to stare, and the performing Fire Masters glared at the intruders.

"Hey, what do you kids think you're doing up here?" Delos snapped, "Get off the stage, Flame!"

"Shut it!" Flame growled, whirling on the larger red dragon, "I've got something to prove, so get out of my way!"

Delos bristled with anger and it looked as though he was about to strike Flame, when Naxos intervened. The yellow dragon strode over to them, an intrigued look in his eyes.

"So, you wanna try performing, Flame?" Naxos grinned and then turned to Delos, "Let's give them a go, shall we? I'm sure the crowd will enjoy it."

"But…" Delos tried to argue, but Naxos didn't even listen to him. Instead, the yellow dragon turned to the crowd.

"What do you think? Shall we give these two younglings a chance to prove themselves?"

The crowd roared in approval, and even Spyro had to admit he wanted to see what they would do. Naxos ushered Delos and the other Fire Masters from the stage, leaving Flame and Kazan standing alone facing the crowd. Spyro had seen plenty of competitions between these two, but not one like this.

"This should be interesting," Cynder smirked in his ear, as she and Ember appeared either side of him.

Spyro nodded, "yeah, I wonder what they're going to do. Are Hunter and Meadow around? They'll probably want to see this, too."

"They're watching," Ember replied, and pointed with a claw towards the far edge of the crowd, "Over there. Saffron and Zephira are with them too."

Spyro glanced over there and saw that, sure enough, the two cheetahs and the two dragonesses were watching the stage closely, waiting for something to happen. Every eye was on Flame and Kazan. The crowd was waiting.

"I give you the Junior Fire Masters!" Naxos roared, causing both young fire dragons to glare at him, angered by the title 'junior'.

"Let's do this," Kazan snarled, gritting his teeth.

"You're about to be shown up," Flame smirked, "In front of the whole crowd, too. Are you ready?"

Kazan response was a vicious roar as he shot a jet of fire straight into the sky. The crowd cheered, but Flame merely rolled his eyes and countered with his own trick. He opened his jaws and shot a ball of fire into the sky. It flew far above the heads of the crowd before exploding like a firework, showering sparks down on the cheering spectators. Kazan glowered.

"Think you can do better?" Flame asked, smirking.

Kazan snarled and breathed a thin stream of fire out over the crowd, finishing with a twist of his head that caused the fire stream to wriggle like a snake before bursting into embers. He had turned to smirk triumphantly at his opponent, only to see Flame had already started his next trick. He, too, had created a thin stream of fire, and now appeared to be holding it between his jaws like a piece of rope. He twisted his head, twirling the rope of fire above the heads of the crowd like a fiery lasso. Flame's jaws opened, releasing the fire rope, and it twisted into a spiral before disintegrating. Kazan was furious.

Again and again the darker red dragon attempted different tricks, only to have Flame copy and improve them before his eyes. The crowd was thrilled, and soon many of the younger dragons were cheering Flame's name. For a moment Kazan's gaze shifted to the crowd and he spotted Saffron laughing and cheering out the name of his opponent. A strange hot feeling welled up inside of him, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Deciding it was anger, Kazan snorted and tore his gaze away from the electricity dragoness.

"And now for the finale," Flame smirked suddenly, "Watch and be amazed, Kazan. I'm about to show you why _I _will become Fire Guardian."

"Not if I show you why _I'm _going to be fire guardian, first!" Kazan snapped back, and tensed himself for his last trick.

Kazan's final act was similar to the final act of the Fire Master's. He created a dragon of fire, though it was much smaller than theirs had been, that flew around in a circle above the crowd before flying upwards and disappearing. Kazan scowled when it didn't get the reaction he had been hoping for.

Flame grinned devilishly, "my turn."

The watchers fell silent as Flame closed his eyes and rose onto his hind legs. His body began to glow with red energy, and Kazan stepped anxiously away. The stage beneath Flame began to smoke and suddenly he snapped his eyes open – and his eyes were glowing red. Fire burst from his body as he released his energy, and the crowd gasped as flames flew over their heads. But they soon realised that the flames had formed shapes, and their eyes widened in appreciation. Dozens of small, hatchling-size, fiery dragons flew out over their heads, spawning from the fires that burst from Flame's body.

"Wow…" Cynder, Ember and Spyro breathed together, staring as a hatchling made of fire flew passed them and then shot straight upwards.

The tiny fire dragons shot upwards together into the sky above the crowd, and exploded simultaneously into a show of fireworks. The cheer from the crowd was the loudest one yet, and Flame sank back onto four legs, smoking, with a triumphant smile on his face.

"The Junior Fire Masters!" Naxos cried, "Give them your appreciation!"

Most of the crowd was now chanting Flame's name, applauding by stamping their feet on the cobblestones. Flame turned to grin at the stunned Kazan.

"Told you I'd show you up," he smirked, and Kazan snarled bitterly.

With a flick of his tail, Kazan turned and jumped off the stage. He stalked away from the crowd, not even looking at them, and disappeared around a corner. Hardly anyone noticed him leave, except for Saffron who, despite believing that he deserved what he got, couldn't help but feel a tiny twinge of pity for him.

"You were great, Flame!" Ember cried, as she, Spyro and Cynder jumped up onto the stage with him, "You really are amazing!"

"What else would you expect?" Flame grinned and nuzzled the pink dragoness lovingly.

"That was awesome," Spyro admitted, "I didn't know you could do that. You sure you haven't been holding back during our matches?"

"Very good, Flame," Hunter appeared at the edge of the stage, looking up at the dragons on it, "You are a talented fire breather."

"Most impressive," Meadow agreed.

"You sure showed Kazan," Saffron smirked, "he left with his tail between his legs."

"You really _are _going to become Fire Guardian, aren't you, Flame?" Zephira asked, glowing with admiration.

Flame seemed to soak up all the praise, his chest puffing out proudly. He didn't even spare a thought for his opponent, but he did spare a thought for his old mentor. A smile crossed his face.

"I guess you could say I learned from the best."

In all the excitement of the first day of the festival, Spyro had almost forgotten about his training session that was to take place that afternoon. It wasn't until he and Cynder had settled down in the gardens to listen to the calming music from the mole musicians, did the purple dragon have time to dwell on it. Anxiously, he watched the sun as it sank lower. He was comfortable here, with Cynder pressed against his side, her head curled around to rest against his chest. But he knew soon he would have to leave.

Spyro dreaded the time when the sun would sink low enough that he would be due at the western courtyard and, as such, that time seemed to draw nearer faster than usual. Soon he realised that there was only enough space between the sun and the horizon for two more suns to fit. As Terrador had told him, now was the time he was meant to meet with Thasos. Reluctantly, the purple dragon shifted his wing from Cynder's back.

"What is it?" the black dragoness asked, raising her head in surprise as Spyro stood up.

"Sorry, Cynder, I need to go," the purple dragon sighed, "the guardians wanted to see me about something."

"About what?" Cynder pushed herself into a sitting position, "Can I come with you?"

Spyro hesitated, "no, stay here and enjoy the music. I might see you later. If not…goodnight."

"But, Spyro-!" Cynder tried to call after him, but he turned and strode away without looking back. Her wings drooped and she stared after him with a sad expression in her emerald eyes, "…it's not the same without you."

With a sad sigh, she sat down and curled up alone, hoping that Spyro would eventually return and wondering just what it was that the guardians needed to see him about.

Spyro regretting leaving Cynder alone like that, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Terrador had insisted he meet Thasos at the western courtyard at this time, and who was he to argue with the guardians? So, feeling rather dispirited, Spyro made his way through the streets towards the designated meeting place. As he expected, Thasos was there waiting for him.

The orange fire guardian stood at the edge of the courtyard, his brown wings folded against his sides, watching Spyro draw closer. In the orange light of the afternoon sun, Thasos's scales almost seemed to glow like fire. He greeted Spyro with a warm smile.

"Good to see you, Spyro. I half expected you to have forgotten with all the excitement of today," Thasos winked, "I heard Flame and Kazan made quite a spectacle on stage."

Spyro returned the smile, however strained, and nodded. Satisfied, Thasos began to explain to Spyro what this afternoon's training was about. The purple dragon listened closely, intrigued despite himself.

"Well, Spyro, I gather you know why we're here," Thasos ruffled his wings, "Terrador explained about the advanced forms of the elements yesterday, did he not?"

"Well, sort of," Spyro muttered, shrugging, "I'm not sure entirely what he meant, though."

"Not to worry, Spyro, it's easy enough to understand. In the world we live in, there are five common elements – that is to say, fire, electricity, ice, earth, and wind. However, as you have yet to master wind, we shall focus on the first four. For most dragons, the simple forms of these elements are all they are able to control. However, for the most talented dragons, such as those who become guardians, there are other, more advanced forms, that can be controlled. For the purple dragon, it is his destiny to harness these different forms. It is _your _destiny, Spyro. Today, I am to teach you about the advanced form of fire."

The purple dragon nodded slowly, beginning to understand, "so, what is the advanced form of fire? What does it look like? What does it do?"

"Fire is the essence of heat within our bodies," Thasos explained, "When this essence is expelled from our bodies it manifests itself in the form of flames. However, a more concentrated essence should produce a more concentrated product."

"Meaning…?" Spyro cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"It simple terms, the advanced form of fire is known as lava," Thasos explained, "A mix of fire and earth, lava is a form that only the most talented of dragons can produce or control. As the purple dragon, who can master both fire and earth, it should be easier for you. It took me many years to master this form. Perhaps you'd like me to show you?"

Spyro nodded eagerly, his eyes alight at the prospect. He had only ever seen lava once, in the active volcano Boyzitbig when it had erupted. He had never heard of a dragon being able to _breathe_ lava. Thasos seemed to have braced himself, his muscles tense and his eyes closed.

"Stand back, Spyro," he ordered, "Lava is a dangerous thing, and I do not want you getting in the way. Quickly now."

Spyro backed away until he was well outside the courtyard, but could still see Thasos standing in the centre. He noticed that the fire guardian's eyes were closed tight, as though in concentration. A deep rumble echoed from within his chest, growing louder, until suddenly Thasos opened his eyes and released the energy. His jaws opened wide, but it was not fire that shot from his maw – it was a molten stream of liquid lava.

The lava shot from Thasos's jaws, striking a nearby tree and eating straight through the trunk. The tree fell as though in slow motion, its bark catching fire. That fire crept upwards towards the leaves before exploding into vicious flames. As the tree hit the ground, the remnants of lava hardened almost instantly into smoking rock, which Spyro knew would be far too hot to touch. Thasos folded his wings and shook himself, letting the last of the lava drip from his jaws and fall to the cobblestones where it hissed and hardened into tiny pebbles of rock.

Spyro was awed, "that was…that was…"

"Powerful," Thasos finished, "and dangerous. Once you master this element, Spyro, you must promise never to use it, unless under dire circumstances. Do you understand?"

Spyro was surprised, '_Why are they teaching it to me if they do not wish me to use it?_'

But the purple dragon nodded anyway, and Thasos seemed satisfied. He swept the pebbles of hardened lava away with a paw and beckoned Spyro over to him.

"Now it is your turn, young dragon," the fire guardian announced, "It is time for you to learn how to control lava."

Though slightly wary, Spyro couldn't suppress the excitement he was feeling. This sort of power – he'd never been able to wield such a dangerous power before. And something about it was overwhelmingly enticing. His eyes glowed with eagerness.

"I'm ready! Tell me what I have to do!"

Thasos smiled grimly, "it won't be easy Spyro, I do not expect you to get this on your first go. But, perhaps you may surprise me. Into the centre, now."

Spyro did as he was asked and strode into the centre of the courtyard, where he waited expectantly for his next instruction.

"Close your eyes," Thasos instructed, and Spyro did so, "Now, concentrate on your fire – that burning hot essence inside you that yearns to escape. Can you feel it?"

Spyro nodded wordlessly, his eyes closed. Vaguely he was reminded of the first time he had learnt to fly. Ignitus had taught him in much the same way that Thasos was teaching him now. Disregarding that thought, Spyro searched inside of him for that spark that was always there – the essence as Thasos called it. He felt it deep within him – a burning hot, but not uncomfortable, sensation. It yearned to be set free.

"Good," Thasos's voice praised softly, "Let that essence fill your whole body, let it bloom until it fills you completely. Now, concentrate on it – make it stronger. Allow more and more of it to pool inside of you. Can you feel it concentrating into something thicker?"

Spyro tried. He tried as hard as he could; concentrating all of his thoughts on the hot sensation that now filled his entire body. He imagined it growing thicker, like lava flowing through his veins. He felt the energy and he could barely contain it.

"Good, Spyro. Now," Thasos whispered, "release it."

Spyro eyes snapped open and he opened his jaws wide, expelling what he hoped would be a jet of lava. But instead of lava, a firestorm erupted from his jaws and lit up his scales, burning away several bushes on the edge of the courtyard. Spyro coughed and sat back on his haunches, surprised. He never breathed fire so hot. He could still feel his jaws smoking. But it wasn't lava.

"W-what happened?" the purple dragon stuttered.

Thasos shook his head, "it wasn't concentrated enough. Don't worry, Spyro, frankly I would have been astounded if you managed to achieve lava upon your first try. Now, once again Spyro, let's try again."

And so Spyro tried. He tried again and again, but every time he only managed to spit fire from his jaws – burning hot flames that left his fangs smoking. The more he tried and failed, the angrier Spyro became until, upon his tenth try, the flames exploded in his face. He spat a ball of fire so angrily from his jaws that, no sooner had it hit air, did it combust and explode like a bomb. Spyro yelled in shock and stumbled back, the end of his nose smarting painfully, his scales charred black with soot. The purple dragon was stunned – never had he been harmed by his own flames.

Thasos shook his head, "no, no, Spyro, that will never do. You can't fuel your fire with anger, or it will only strike you back. You must concentrate, Spyro, or you will never master lava."

"I'm _trying_ ok?" Spyro snapped, whirling on the fire guardian with his eyes blazing with anger. Thasos's eyebrows raised in surprised. He'd never heard Spyro lash out at someone in anger like that.

Spyro, it seemed, was surprised to. He turned his gaze away from Thasos and pawed the soot from the end of his muzzle, his eyes stinging from the embers that had exploded in his face.

"I'm sorry," Spyro mumbled, "I'm just…frustrated. I didn't mean to yell."

"It is fine, Spyro," Thasos replied, though his eyes were grave, "Now, close your eyes and we will begin again."

Closing his eyes, Spyro tried to concentrate on the fiery essence inside him. When he let it out, it was still in the form of flames. Frustrated, he tried again, and again. Spyro trained until the moon had risen and the night was dark. The city was bathed in moonlight and most of the citizens had retired for the night. Spyro had no doubt Cynder had too. But still Thasos was not satisfied and Spyro was forced to continue training.

After what seemed like his fiftieth failed try, Spyro's frustration and exhaustion had reached breaking point. With a snarl of anger, he roared into the night, "Argh! Why can't I get this?"

Another ball of flame shot from his jaws and exploded in his face, this time sending him reeling backwards. He hit the ground on his side, his face charred black, and his eyes watering from the pain. Groaning, Spyro picked himself up off the ground and pawed at his blackened muzzle.

"That will do, Spyro," Thasos murmured disapprovingly, "You are letting your anger get the better of you. Perhaps we had better finish for the night."

"Right…" Spyro mumbled and turned away, his tail dragging on the ground. He felt like a failure, and it angered him in a way he had never been angered before. Never before had he had such trouble learning something. Mastering the four basic elements had seemed so easy, so why was this so hard?

"You will meet Cyril here tomorrow at the same time, for your lesson on the advanced form of ice," Thasos called to him, "I will see you again in a few days to continue your training with lava. Goodnight, Spyro."

"G'night," Spyro grunted in response, dreading how hard the following afternoon's training would be. He hadn't even mastered lava yet. Instead, it all kept exploding in his face. The purple dragon was used to failing; not at all.

Spyro fell onto his cushions the instant he stepped into his room. He felt exhausted and disappointed, and the spark of anger had still not left his heart. Sparx was sleeping in his hanging nest, which hung from the roof, his soft snoring filling the room. With all that was on his mind, despite his tiredness, Spyro found it hard to fall asleep that night.

He tossed and turned, thinking bitter thoughts and forming new scenarios in his head; scenarios where he failed over and over again, and the guardians told him he was a failure of a purple dragon. These thoughts carried into his dreams and he passed a restless night, suffering through nightmares that woke him at every hour, shivering and sweating all at once.

Eventually he strode out onto the balcony where he lay and let the wind cool his heated body, enjoying its gentle touch against his scales. Only then did he finally sleep, but still his dreams were full of darkness and haunted by a pair of glowing white eyes.

**A/N: Ok, hopefully the last of the 'introductory' chapters. I'm hoping things will heat up by the end of next chapter. :3 In all of my frantic unpreparedness for Christmas, I didn't get time to reply to reviews! However, I thank you all very much for reviewing, I truly appreciate it! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! And Merry Christmas!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one, mates. But it's twice as long as any other chapter, so that should make up for it! Lots of stuff going on in this chapter...it was rather hard to write. Hope you enjoy!**

**4.**

The next days of the festival passed by like a blur. Spyro found the days seemed to end faster when he dreaded the afternoon. But not an hour went by when he did not dread the training he was forced to do. Though he put on a brave face and tried to pretend that everything was fine, he knew sooner or later that Cynder would see through his façade.

After the dismal lesson with Thasos, Spyro's next training session was with the ice guardian Cyril. The purple dragon only managed to sneak away from Cynder when she was distracted by the other dragonesses, and such he found himself running late. He strode into the western courtyard to find Cyril waiting, tapping his claws impatiently on the cobblestones. Spyro smiled sheepishly.

"You're a little late, Spyro," the ice guardian commented disapprovingly.

"Sorry…I was distracted," the purple dragon apologized, not meeting the guardian's eyes, "I'll try not to let it happen again."

"Good dragon," Cyril nodded, and then launched into his explanation of the training session, "As you know, Spyro, you are here today to learn the advanced form of ice, the most noble of all the elements." – Spyro refrained from rolling his eyes – "Can you guess what that form is, young dragon?"

Spyro hesitated, thinking hard. The advanced form of fire had been lava, a more concentrated form of the element. That would mean that the advanced form of Ice would be…

"Water," the purple dragon stated, after a moment of thinking. He hoped he was right, or Cyril wouldn't be impressed.

"Very good, Spyro," the ice guardian nodded approvingly, to Spyro's relief, "Water is a more expanded and flexible form of ice, and it is one of the most powerful entities that exists in this world. Does that surprise you, young dragon?"

Spyro's expression had indeed turned sceptical at those words. He had never thought of water as being powerful. It was useful, yes, but not powerful like fire or electricity. Or was it?

Cyril considered his student for a moment, "Listen to me, Spyro. To master water you must first learn to understand and appreciate its power. What I am about to tell you applies not only to this elemental form, but to many things in life."

"A single drop of water alone cannot accomplish anything. Alone it is weak and useless. But when combined with a thousand others, it becomes strong – that is the true power of water," there was a proud twinkle in Cyril's eye as he said this, "The power of water has been known to bring down walls, flatten forests, and even sweep whole cities away. Do not forget that it was the power of water that allowed us to halt the Destroyer, even if only for a few moments. It has a strength that we as dragons can only dream of, but we are given the chance to control it – and that is a gift in itself. Do you understand, Spyro?"

For a moment Spyro was silent. Cyril's words struck him hard, and a flood of memories was borne in his mind's eye. A single drop of water along cannot accomplish anything, but when combined with a thousand others, it becomes strong… And Spyro knew that he could never have come this far without those who had helped him and stuck by him along the way. Alone he would have fallen, but with Cynder, Sparx, Ignitus, and everyone else at his side, he had remained strong.

"I understand," Spyro sighed eventually, staring at his paws.

"Then you are ready to control the power of water."

Cyril's first move was to demonstrate what water could do. The bolt of water that he shot from his jaws was powerful enough to slice clean through the trunk of a nearby tree, leaving a hole like a bullet wound and causing the whole tree to sway violently. Several leaves detached from the branches and floated gently to the ground. Was that the same tree that Thasos had destroyed only yesterday? Spyro raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Cyril sat back and snorted a cloud of ice from his nostrils.

"Now, Spyro, it's your turn."

Surprisingly, mastering water turned out to be slightly easier than mastering lava had been. It was only on Spyro's tenth try that he managed to produce something very close to water. Aiming for the tree that Cyril had struck, Spyro had shot a bullet of icy slurry from his jaws. It wasn't quite water, but it wasn't quite ice either, more like a mix between both. It left Spyro's tongue tingling against the cold.

"Yes, Spyro, you're almost there," Cyril encouraged, "You must focus on it! Imagine the ice in your veins expanding, becoming more! Focus!"

But Spyro tried again and again, and every time he only managed to produce that same icy slurry from before. Eventually, in frustration, Spyro had vented his anger by shooting an icicle at the tree. It cut through the bark and became stuck in the trunk of the tree, where it slowly melted under Spyro's frustrated glare.

Cyril sighed, "That will do for tonight, Spyro. You are making progress, but you still have a long way to go. Meet Volteer here at the same time tomorrow for your lesson on electricity – barbaric as it may be."

That night was as restless as the previous had been, and Spyro found his dreams were even worse than before. Soon, disturbed by yet another nightmare in which Cyril had looked down his nose at Spyro and proclaimed that he'd never be able to master water and should give up ice forever, the purple dragon staggered out onto the balcony. He sat for several hours merely staring at the moons and the shadows that passed slowly over them. Sleep evaded his troubled mind.

"Your session today will focus on the sophisticated variety of electricity," Volteer told Spyro the minute the purple dragon strode into the western courtyard.

Spyro was late again, but the electricity guardian didn't seem to mind. He'd had trouble getting away from Flame, who had insisted on talking about battle tactics and if Spyro knew any new elemental moves that he was willing to share. He had at last managed to escape when Ember had distracted Flame by dragging him off to dance with her in the gardens. Thankfully, Cynder had been busy conversing with Saffron and hadn't noticed Spyro's departure.

The purple dragon's first thought was that the advanced form of electricity had to be something very new and different. Unlike fire and ice, this form didn't seem quite so obvious to Spyro. He thought about it for a few moments, but came up with nothing.

"So what is this form?" Spyro asked, curious despite his growing tiredness from his lack of sleep in the past two nights.

Volteer beamed, as though he'd never been asked a more exciting question, "Electricity is the energy that exists in everything: even within your own body. So far you have only been able to harness and control the energy that you produce from within yourself. But to master electricity fully, you must learn to control the energy that exists around you. It is time, young dragon, to master lightning!"

Spyro's eyes widened in their sockets. He had seen lightning many times, when it came forth from the skies and struck down upon the earth. It was pure power – and dangerous. Could he, a mere dragon not yet full grown, actually control the awesome power of lightning? The thought was both daunting and exhilarating.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Volteer suggested, and took a stance that made it seem like he was bracing himself for impact, "Stay close to me, Spyro, or this may not end well!"

Startled by those words, Spyro quickly hurried over to Volteer's side and found shelter next to the much larger electricity guardian. He gazed at the skies, eagerly and anxiously waiting for something to happen. He didn't have to wait for long. Beside him, Volteer's whole body seemed to tremble before he turned as ridged as stone, his head through to the skies. The only warning Spyro got was a loud '_crack!' _just before a bolt of rippling lightning tore through the skies and struck the cobblestones in front of them.

The purple dragon was unable to stifle a yell as the force of the lightning strike threw him backwards, head over heels. He was stopped by one of Volteer's sturdy hind legs and lay groggily for a few moments, his head spinning violently. But the electricity guardian hadn't moved at all.

"Are you alright, Spyro?" Volteer asked after a few moments, when all traces of the lightning strike were gone – save for the melted cobblestones where it had struck.

Spyro shook his head roughly and raised his gaze to find Volteer looking anxiously down at him. Feeling foolish, the purple dragon struggled to his feet, still feeling a little disorientated.

"I'm…alright," he said breathlessly, staggering slightly.

The electricity guardian smiled grimly, "I'm sure you've already heard similar lectures from Thasos and Cyril – but, lightning is not a force to be trifled with. It is dangerous, very dangerous, and has killed many a dragon with its deadly strikes. It is one of the great powers of nature, but we have been given the gift to control it! Use it wisely, though, Spyro, or you may bring harm to those you wish to protect…"

No matter how difficult the training was that afternoon, those words stayed with Spyro for a long time. When he finally turned in after failing miserably to summon lightning, Spyro found himself unable to sleep despite his tired state. Those words continued to roll around in his head, and he shuddered violently against the images that were conjured up.

'_You may bring harm to those you wish to protect…_'

His dreams that night were far worse than disturbing. He dreamt of controlling the advanced forms of fire, ice, and electricity – and destroying those he loved in the process. He dreamt of watching his friends die at his hands, of watching emotionlessly as they pleaded for mercy. Spyro woke early morning, his heart pounding, with the memory of a deep, cruel laugh echoing in his mind. Shuddering, the purple dragon buried his face in his paws and tried not to remember.

"What's wrong, Spyro?"

The purple dragon shook himself out of his stupor long enough to notice Cynder was standing in front of him with an anxious look on her face. They were in the gardens again, listening to the music from the moles and watching Zannak perform tricks for the amused crowd. He'd somehow managed to rope his sister into helping him perform tricks with the element of electricity for the crowd. But Spyro barely noticed.

"Nothing," the purple dragon mumbled, turning his eyes away from her. It was near midday, and Spyro still couldn't shake the images of his dreams from his mind. He was exhausted, depressed, and irritated – but he wasn't about to tell Cynder any of that.

The black dragoness narrowed her eyes, "I know you're hiding something, Spyro. Just tell me what's wrong! You've been acting odd lately, and you always look so tired!"

She nestled down onto the grass beside him, rubbing against his side comfortingly, "Haven't you been sleeping well?"

Spyro sighed softly and didn't meet her eyes. Cynder nuzzled his neck gently and tried once more.

"Come on, Spyro," she insisted, "Speak to me."

"It's nothing," Spyro sighed at last, giving her a quick glance, "Just…just bad dreams."

Cynder's emerald green eyes twinkled triumphantly, "What are your dreams about?"

Spyro didn't reply for a moment. He stared at his paws as the tiny blades of grass caressed his claws and scales, but there was a different image on his mind. He couldn't shake that image – the image of himself watching coldly as his friends died beneath his claws.

'_I dream of your death, Cynder,_' Spyro thought darkly, the back of his neck prickling at the thought, '_But I can't tell you that._'

"It doesn't matter," he sighed at last, despite knowing that Cynder wouldn't accept that, "They're just dreams."

He was right, of course. Cynder wasn't pleased with that answer. She scowled at him as he averted his eyes and tried to think of a reason why he would keep secrets from her. Curling her tail around his, the black dragoness snuggled closer to him and whispered, "It does matter. If you aren't sleeping, then something is wrong. Just tell me what these dreams are about. Maybe I can help."

"I don't need help."

Cynder's scowl deepened at his answer, "You do! Please, Spyro, talk to me!"

Suddenly the purple dragon surged to his feet, pulling his tail away from Cynder's. He shook himself roughly and scowled at the black dragoness.

"Why does it matter to you?" he growled, "Just let it be!"

And, ignoring Cynder's stunned expression, the purple dragon turned and strode away. He wasn't sure where he was going or what he was planning to do, but all he wanted at the moment was to get away from these interrogating questions. He didn't want anyone to know what he was dreaming about, least of all Cynder. But he hadn't stopped to think about her feelings.

The black dragoness watched, saddened and shocked by his actions, as Spyro strode away from her. She couldn't recall the last time he'd snapped at her like that, and wondered if he'd _ever_ done it before. Spyro didn't act like this; it just wasn't like him. So why was he acting like this now? But no matter how much Cynder thought about it, she couldn't come up with an explanation. So, feeling unsatisfied and irritated, the black dragoness decided one thing: she would find out what was wrong with Spyro no matter what happened! And nothing was going to stop her.

"What am I doing? That was stupid of me," Spyro muttered to himself as he dragged his paws through the streets of Warfang. The dragons he passed waved and grinned at him, but he barely acknowledged their presence.

"I shouldn't have snapped at Cynder like that. She only wanted to help," the purple dragon told himself, angry about his own actions. He felt worse than ever. He was exhausted both physically and mentally. This advanced training truly was getting the better of him.

Eventually, Spyro realised his paws had carried him to the last place he wanted to be – the western courtyard. It was midday and, as such, no one else was there. At least, that's what Spyro thought. Deciding to practice with his fire element to let off some steam, the purple dragon strode into the middle of the courtyard.

He readied himself and clenched his teeth, ready to shoot a burning torrent of fire from his jaws. A deep growl echoed in his throat, rising from deep within his gut, and he opened his jaws wide. But all that came out was a pitiful puff of smoke and a few glowing embers. Spyro staggered back, coughing, wondering what had happened.

Scowling, the purple dragon tried again and again, but each time he only achieved the same – a puff of smoke and a few measly embers. Irritated, the purple dragon tried instead with the element of ice, but all that came out was a tiny cloud of frosty particles. Gnashing his jaws angrily, Spyro charged himself up to shoot a bolt of electricity, but the energy fizzled just as it left his mouth.

With a roar of anger, the purple dragon slammed his paw into the earth. To his relief, a large pillar of rock shot up from the cobblestones. Clenching his paw, Spyro forced the pillar back down into the earth. He tensed his body and fired a bullet of stone from his maw. It struck the cobblestones and shattered into pieces. At least he could use earth, but what was wrong with his other elements?

"Practicing, I see."

Spyro jumped in surprise when he heard the voice come seemingly out of nowhere. He looked wildly around for the owner, only to see Kazan appear from out of the bushes. The dark red dragon had a dismal look on his face, and his tail seemed to be dragging on the ground, almost as though he had a lack of energy – or perhaps it was a lack of will. Spyro relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Yeah…I guess you could say that. What are you doing?"

Kazan shrugged and moved to sit glumly next to the purple dragon, "I was practicing too, earlier. But I…gave up… I was resting over there."

The fire dragon waved a paw at the bushes from whence he had come out. Spyro sat down on his haunches and cast Kazan a curious glance. Upon closer inspection, Spyro noticed that Kazan's eyes were dull and there was a deep sadness hidden deep within them, as though he'd finally lost the will – but the will for what? A silence passed between the two male dragons.

"Do you ever get the feeling that…you're never going to succeed no matter what?" Kazan asked suddenly, breaking the dull silence that had fallen. Spyro heard the pain in his voice, "Do you ever feel like…you're a complete failure? Like you can't do anything right?"

Spyro was stunned for a moment. What Kazan had just said seemed to sum up everything he, Spyro, was feeling right now. But how had he known how Spyro was feeling? A second later Spyro realised he was wrong – Kazan was talking about himself.

"Hah, of course you don't," the fire dragon smirked grimly, staring at his paws, "You're the purple dragon. Everything you do comes naturally to you. I wish I was a purple dragon…"

"No you don't…"

Kazan looked up in surprise at Spyro's quiet words. The purple dragon was staring ahead, his eyes glazed over as though thinking of things far away. It was then that Kazan noticed the pain on the purple dragon's face. He looked exhausted and upset, as though he hadn't slept for days.

"What do you –?"

"You don't want to be a purple dragon," Spyro sighed, before Kazan would finish his question.

The fire dragon snorted, and when he spoke his words were drenched in sarcasm, "Yeah, sure. Why would I want to be able to control all the power I ever wanted? Who'd want that?"

"Not me."

Kazan stared. Had Spyro just said what he thought he'd said? Kazan wanted to ask, but the look on the purple dragon's face made him falter. Was it possible that the purple dragon wasn't as perfect as he first thought?

"You mean…you don't want to be the purple dragon?" Kazan asked haltingly, watching Spyro's expression carefully.

Spyro closed his lilac eyes, "Sometimes I…I wish I wasn't. All I want…is to be me. But all my life I've been forced to serve the world, to solve the problems of everyone else…to be a hero. I've had to control more power than any other dragon was meant to wield, and still I haven't learned enough. There's so much more that I need to do, but I feel like…I just can't. I'm just not strong enough to be the purple dragon. I just…want to be myself. But I…"

He trailed off, shaking his head slowly. Kazan was silent for a few moments, but Spyro could sense his golden eyes were watching him. At last the fire dragon sighed and snorted a puff of smoke into the air. Spyro opened his eyes and watched as the smoke curled into twisting tendrils before slowly fading into the air.

"I understand, you know," Kazan muttered, glaring at his own smoke, "Sort of. Ever since I learnt about the guardians, I've wanted to become one. The guardian of fire… But I never realised that I would have to compete with others. I've tried and practiced again and again, but…no matter what I do I just can't seem to get any better. Flame is…he's so much stronger than me! I hate to admit it, but…it's true! And no matter what I do, I can't change that. I suppose I should just get used to failing."

Spyro nodded sympathetically, "I know how you feel. Sometimes you just want to give up…because you know you're never going to reach your goal. But what can we do? Maybe we're always going to be second-rate."

Kazan flopped down onto his back, his golden eyes staring as the skies passed by overhead, "I never would have guessed you'd be just like me, Spyro. Guess purple dragons aren't perfect. But at least you're stronger than Flame."

"Yeah," Spyro mumbled half-heartedly, wishing that meant more to him, "At least."

"If I never get any stronger, I'll never become the Fire Guardian and…" Kazan trailed off with a sigh.

Spyro stared at the sky, lost in his own thoughts, '_What am I supposed to do? If I never get any stronger, how can I be the purple dragon? Everyone counts on me to be strong… but I wish they didn't. What am I supposed to do if I fail them?_'

Too caught up in his own thoughts, the purple dragon didn't hear the end of Kazan's sentence.

"…Saffron will never notice me…"

By the time Terrador reached the courtyard for that afternoon's training, Kazan had already left and Spyro was sitting alone at the edge of the courtyard, his head resting glumly upon his paws. The earth guardian seemed surprised that the purple dragon was already there. From what he'd heard from the other guardians, Spyro usually tended to show up late.

"Already here, Spyro?" Terrador noted, both curious and approving, as he strode towards the young dragon.

The purple dragon raised his head, "Oh, Terrador. I was waiting for you."

"As I can see, young dragon," Terrador eyed Spyro curiously. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the dark circles beneath the purple dragon's eyes, and the way the light seemed to sink into his irises instead of reflecting off them. His face was sunken and his wings seemed to droop miserably. Spyro was exhausted, that was plain to see. But why was he in such a state?

"Have you been sleeping well, Spyro?" the earth guardian questioned gently, "You seem to lack energy."

Sighing, Spyro shook his head, "Not really, Terrador. I haven't been sleeping well these last few nights…"

The earth guardian sighed, shaking his large green head, "You must get some rest, Spyro. This advanced training is tiresome and if you do not rest your body, it may get the better of you. Promise me you will try to sleep tonight."

"Right…" Spyro turned his face away from his mentor, "I'll try. But I can't help it if I can't sleep."

Terrador considered the purple dragon solemnly for a few moments, "Can you think of any reason why this lack of sleep has come about?"

Spyro hesitated. He considered telling Terrador everything that had been on his mind recently, but thought better of it. Part of him wanted to tell the earth guardian everything – just to tell someone – but his own fears and anxieties stopped him from doing so. Without a word, Spyro merely shook his head by way of answer. Terrador grunted disapprovingly.

"No? Have you not been enjoying yourself at the festival?" The earth guardian suggested, fishing for a reason.

But Spyro shook his head rapidly, "No, no! It's been great, really! It's a shame there's only a few more days to go…"

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Spyro dreaded the coming end of the festival. Once the festival ended, classes would begin again, and Spyro would be forced to attend lessons in the day while still attending training sessions during the afternoon. Just the thought of it made him realise how tired he was – how tired he would be. Would he ever have any free time again?

"That is good, Spyro, I am glad you have been enjoying yourself. But, perhaps you would appreciate the day more if you slept during the night. Are you sure there is nothing that is bothering you?"

Again, Spyro hesitated. But, again, he shook his head and murmured, "Nothing."

Terrador considered his student for a moment longer before nodding, "very well, Spyro. I will trust you to come to me if there is ever something troubling you. I and the other guardians will do all in our power to help you."

'_Not if you thought I was a failure…_' Spyro thought bitterly, '_not if I told you I didn't want to be the purple dragon._'

Terrador had just started to explain about the advanced form of Earth, when Spyro thought of something else. Quickly interrupting the earth guardian, the purple dragon voiced a worry that he had only recently discovered.

"Can…can I ask you something, Terrador?" he asked timidly, and the green guardian raised a scaly eyebrow.

"Of course, Spyro. What is it?"

Spyro paused briefly, "well…earlier today I was practicing my elements here in the courtyard. And, well…I found that I couldn't use fire, ice or electricity. It was like they weren't even there! I thought maybe it was because I was out of energy, but I could use earth just fine. I don't understand why the other elements wouldn't work for me… Do you…?"

To Spyro's surprise, the earth guardian nodded reassuringly, "You shouldn't worry, Spyro. Your elements will return soon enough. You see, when learning the advanced forms of the elements, often all the energy required for using that element is used up. As you are only beginning, it will take a few days for that energy to replenish itself. Until it does, you will be unable to use those elements."

Spyro looked crestfallen, "So when will they come back?"

"I assure you that you should be able to use fire in time for Thasos's lesson tomorrow," Terrador replied, "Because of how much energy is consumed in using the advanced forms of the elements, you must learn to use them only sparingly. But don't fret – as you grow stronger it will take less time for that energy to replenish itself. In time, you may find that your energy will return in the blink of an eye. Until then, green gems should help you to recover quicker. I'm sure the moles in the infirmary will be more than happy to assist you."

Spyro nodded slowly, feeling a little less anxious now that he had a reason and a solution for his worry. He then thought of something else, "Terrador is that why we're rotating the training sessions? To allow my elements time to replenish themselves with energy?"

Predictably, Terrador nodded. Satisfied, Spyro sat back and waited for the earth guardian to explain what this afternoon's training session would focus on. Earth was the final advanced form he had yet to learn. Now it was time to find out what it was.

"All questions answered, Spyro? Good. Now, so far you have learnt what the advanced forms are for fire, ice and electricity. I understand that they have been difficult for you to master. But, in due time you will master them. We have faith in you," Terrador paused briefly before continuing, "The advanced form of earth is a far different power to any you have had the privilege to wield before. You will find it difficult, I will not lie, but once you master it, it may be the most rewarding of any element yet. Are you prepared, Spyro?"

Eager and a little uneasy, the purple dragon nodded slowly. Terrador didn't smile – but he didn't smile often, unless he decided it was necessary – instead his green eyes glinted with approval.

"Earth is the warrior's element. It is strong, sturdy and unmoveable, as any warrior should be. It is that upon which we walk – that which we live and thrive upon – and it gives us somewhere strong to stand. But through the earth stretch countless threads, complex systems existing beneath our paws. And connected to this system of threads and roots, are the life forms that exist all around us. The trees, the plants, the grass – they are all connected beneath the earth, and it is them that you must learn to control. Have you guessed it yet, Spyro? The advanced form of earth is nature. And once you learn to control your surroundings, you will be almost unstoppable."

Spyro's lilac eyes had widened considerably, "You mean…controlling the trees and the plants? How is that even possible! They're living things!"

Terrador's eyes were solemn, "It is difficult, yes, but not impossible. You must learn to listen to nature and hear the voices of the trees. You must learn to see nature as an extension of the earth you already control. But do not consider it your tool – nature is not a weapon, Spyro, but rather an ally. It can help you in situations where your other elements may be useless. Always respect it, Spyro, and it will respect you."

Spyro stared at the ground, a bitter taste in his mouth, "I don't like the idea of controlling living things. It just reminds me of…of…" – he tried to speak the name, but found he could not -, "of _him _and how he controlled Flame against his will. I don't want that sort of power!"

The purple dragon sighed. Almost a year had passed, and he could still not speak Alta's name without the terrible images that assaulted his memory. The death of the oracle dragon had been Spyro's fault entirely – at least he saw it that way. He knew he would never forget the gruesome image of that grey dragon lying dead in his own blood, killed by his own sorrow. He would never forget the blank, staring eyes of Alta, the last member of the slaughtered Oracle Tribe.

"You will not have that sort of power, Spyro," Terrador assured the young purple dragon, "That is a power than no dragon is meant to control. Nature may be alive, but it is not your servant. It is your ally. Trust me on that, Spyro. I would never ask you to do anything I know is wrong. Believe me."

Meeting Terrador's green eyed gaze, Spyro realised he believed the earth guardian entirely. Terrador would never force him to do anything that was against the laws of nature, and Spyro found himself feeling guilty for thinking it for even a moment.

"I believe you."

"Thankyou, Spyro," Terrador said gratefully, and then raised his head proudly, "Now, watch me. I am about to show you the power of nature."

The earth guardian's body seemed to glow with energy, his scales obtaining a green shimmer that he seemed to draw from everything around him. Spyro's eyes filled with awe as he watched the green glow around his mentor grow with every passing second, until Terrador opened his eyes – his glowing green eyes. His body pulsed with energy, and the tree that Cyril had damaged only a few days previously began to move.

It was as though the tree had suddenly come to life, its branches moving like arms with twigs for fingers. Spyro remained as still as stone as the tree reached for him, wrapping its limbs around his trembling body. He was lifted off the ground as though he weighed no more than a feather, lifted high into the air in the grasp of the tree's suddenly flexible branches. It would have been terrifying, but the purple dragon trusted his mentor – and he only felt awe instead of fear.

Gazing down at Terrador, Spyro saw him exhale slowly and the green energy around him began to dissipate. The tree lowered Spyro gently back down to the ground and released him, before straightening up and turning as ridged as it had been before. The purple dragon stared at the now unmoving tree, stunned. Had it really just done that? Had it really just come to life and lifted him effortlessly from the ground?

"Forgive me, Spyro, I should have warned you," Terrador spoke suddenly, his deep voice bringing the purple dragon back to reality, "Were you startled? I asked the tree not to harm you."

Spyro was silent for a few moments before replying, "I was surprised, a little. But I knew…somehow…that it wouldn't harm me. I knew you wouldn't harm me. But…"

The purple dragon turned to stare at the tree again, "…I've never seen a tree move like that before."

Terrador nodded, "It was only my energy that allowed the tree to move this way. Imbued with my energy and my spirit, the tree became one with my thoughts and was able to move with me. Only by receiving your energy, will nature be able to assist you. Are you ready to try it yourself?"

Spyro nodded, "I think I am."

The earth guardian nodded approvingly, "Good. Close your eyes, Spyro. Now, clear your mind. Feel the earth beneath you, the energy around you – feel the roots that stretch beneath your feet, and the energy that flows along them. Listen to the trees and the plants – listen. Can you feel their energy? Can you feel your own energy?"

Spyro nodded slowly, his eyes closed as he focused as hard as he could. He felt his own energy, his own essence, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He could feel the energy of the earth all around his body – but his own energy seemed almost like a barrier, preventing the earth's energy from reaching his body. He frowned and concentrated on it.

"Now…let them intertwine. Feel your energy become part of the energy of the earth…can you feel it? Can you feel yourself become one with nature – do you hear their voices?"

Spyro concentrated. He felt a strange sensation, like a warm wind washing over his body, both soothing and exhilarating. Energy, power, was coursing through his veins. He felt warm – he felt strong. But he needed more – he needed to reach the energy of nature. As he delved deeper, a different sensation began to grow around him. Resistance.

_Turn back. You do not belong here. Who is this that enters on our domain? Turn back._

'_No,_' Spyro thought forcefully, pleadingly, '_I need this energy. I need your energy!_'

_Turn back. Our energy is not yours to take. Turn back. You do not belong here._

'_Please! Let me -!'_

_Turn back!_

Spyro yelled as a force unlike any other pushed against his consciousness, and he was thrown physically backwards onto the cobblestones. For several moments he lay dazed upon his side, his head spinning, unsure what had just happened. Vaguely, he heard heavy footfalls approach his fallen body and wondered who it was.

"Are you hurt, Spyro?" a deep voice asked.

That's right. Terrador. Spyro raised his head. The dizziness slowly receded from his mind and he remembered where he was and what he was doing. The energy of nature had resisted him. Had it been that which had thrown him back? The earth guardian did not look pleased.

"You tried to force it, didn't you, Spyro?" Terrador asked disapprovingly, as the purple dragon struggled back to his feet, "You cannot force the plants to give you their energy. You must offer your own. To take, you must give. If you try to force it, it will only resist. No dragon can stand up to the resistance of nature."

"I'm sorry, Terrador…" Spyro mumbled, turning his gaze away, ashamed, "I got carried away."

"Try again, Spyro. Do not try to force it. Offer your energy."

So Spyro tried, again and again, but each time he reached that point he felt resistance. And each time he reached that point he sensed power – great power. It was as though the entire energy of the earth was just inches from his grasp, but he could not reach out to take it. So desperate was he to receive that power – to please the guardians – that he unconsciously tried again and again to force the energy of nature. But it resisted him.

_Turn back._

Several times Spyro was thrown backwards, until his body was as sore as his aching mind. Sighing, Terrador eventually called a stop to the training, and Spyro sat down on his haunches, both relieved and dispirited. He was tired, very tired, but both he and Terrador were oblivious to the pair of emerald eyes that had watched the entire training session.

When Spyro retired for the night, he was to find someone else already sitting in the centre of his room – waiting for him.

It was dark when Spyro crawled into his room from the balcony. Only the dim golden glow from Sparx – coming from his hanging nest in the centre of the ceiling – granted light to the room. But that was all the light Spyro needed to see the pair of alarmingly sharp emerald eyes staring at him from the centre of his room. With a yelp like a wounded dog, the purple dragon scrambled backwards and fell back onto his haunches.

It was so dark he couldn't see the creature's body, but he knew it was moving closer just from the sound of its paws on the ground and the way the eyes bobbed ever nearer. Whatever it was, it didn't look happy, and Spyro was too tired to even think about defending himself. He opened his mouth several times to say something, but no sound came out. The eyes inched closer.

Spyro whimpered and scrambled back onto the moonlight-washed balcony. He squeezed his eyes shut as the eyes followed him, waiting for whatever it was to attack him. But the sound of footsteps stopped just in front of him, and a silence fell. Nothing happened. Spyro didn't dare open his eyes.

"I saw you down there."

The purple dragon felt relief wash over him as he recognised the distinctive female voice. He opened his eyes and saw the figure, now illuminated by the light from the moons. Cynder stared back at him, her emerald eyes stern and disapproving. Spyro wasn't sure what to say.

"You were training, weren't you." It wasn't a question, more of a statement that needed confirmation. Spyro cowered under her stern gaze.

"I…" he sighed and looked at the ground, "yes."

"Since when?"

"Four days ago."

"The day the festival started?"

"Yes."

Another silence fell. The stiff conversation seemed to have hit a wall, and Spyro didn't know what else to say. Cynder was staring at him, as though waiting for him to speak, to say something – anything. But he didn't know what to tell her. Should he have told her sooner? Probably. Was she mad? Most likely.

Cynder sighed, her shoulders drooping, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Spyro turned his pained eyes on her, "I didn't know how to! I wanted to tell you, but…I thought you'd be mad… You're always telling me I spend too much time training. I just…It was my own problem. Not yours."

"You could have at least told me!" Cynder cried, leaning closer to him, "This is why you keep sneaking away, isn't it? And why you've been looking so tired lately! I've been worried about you, Spyro! Why didn't you just tell me about this?"

"Because I didn't want to!" Spyro yelled back and then shrank away, ashamed by his own shout, "I…I just wanted to deal with it myself."

Cynder considered him for a moment with a blank expression, "I see."

Another silence. Spyro could feel guilt and tiredness weighing him down. He wanted to sleep, but at the same time he knew he couldn't. Not while those nightmares still haunted his dreams. Cynder noticed his expression.

"Is it not going well?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

Spyro's head shot up, "What? I mean…why do you ask?"

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Because you look so exhausted, like you haven't been sleeping. And you seem so down, Spyro. I know something is wrong. I know you, Spyro, and I know when something isn't right with you. Can't you just talk to me?"

For several moments, Spyro only stared at the black dragoness. He had always thought she looked beautiful in the moonlight – but then, he thought she looked beautiful no matter what time of the day or night. Her obsidian scales glimmered like gems, but they were almost invisible in the darkness of the night. Heaving a sigh, Spyro let his head fall forwards until his forehead was resting against her crimson chest.

"You're right," he mumbled, closing his eyes while a stunned Cynder stared down at him, "It isn't going well."

Gently, she wrapped a crimson wing around his shoulders, "Tell me, Spyro. Tell me everything. I'm here for you. I always will be."

Spyro told her everything. The words tumbled forth as though they had been waiting to be spilled for so long, and he found he couldn't stop until he told her every little thing. He told her about training and how hard it was, how he failed every time and feared that the guardians were disappointed with him. He told her about his wish, that he should not have to be the purple dragon. And he told her about the nightmares that frequently plagued his dreams and kept him from sleeping at night.

By the time he had finished his voice was raspy and he was close to tears, but a part of him felt relieved, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He let out a deep, cleansing sigh, and found comfort beneath Cynder's wing. They had moved from the balcony into Spyro's room, and were now curled up together on his bed of cushions. Cynder nuzzled his cheek gently.

"You should have told me sooner, Spyro. Maybe I could have helped sooner," she whispered.

"I know," Spyro sighed, curling his tail around her and pressing his cheek against her chest, "But you're here now. Thank you for listening. I feel…better…"

Cynder smiled a gentle, almost sad, smile, "Thank you for telling me, Spyro. But now it's late, and we should get some sleep."

She ruffled her wings and moved to push herself off the cushions, but Spyro's tail held hers in place. She stared at him, but he hadn't opened his eyes.

"Don't leave," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

A soft, affectionate smile crossed her face and she snuggled back down onto the cushions beside him. He felt warm against her side. Wrapping a wing around him, she draped her head across his shoulders and closed her eyes.

"I won't. I promise."

Spyro smiled.

Meadow groaned as something poked him in the chest. He tucked his paws closer to his chest and ducked his head, his eyes still defiantly closed against the morning light of the sun. The thing poked him again, and he uttered another irritated groan. He could feel sleep leaving him, but he didn't want to wake up. Not yet. Still, the thing persisted.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

"Stop it," Meadow grumbled, swatting at the thing feebly with one paw. But he hit only air and groaned again, raising that same paw to cover his eyes. He snuggled further into the cushions.

"Come on, Meadow, time to get up," said a voice, almost mockingly. The thing prodded him again.

"Not yet," Meadow mumbled, trying to curl up away from whatever it was, "Go away."

"Meadow," the voice said with mock stern, "It's time to get up. You don't want to sleep through the last day of the festival, do you?"

Poke.

"Argh! Ok, I'm up!" Meadow sat up swiftly, looking irritated and rubbing at his eyes with a paw. He glanced up to see a golden-furred cheetah standing over him.

Hunter grinned at his friend, bow in hand and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. He hardly went anywhere without them. Meadow figured it was the bow that Hunter had been using to poke him. He scowled.

"Did you have to wake me up like that?" Meadow grumbled, smoothing his crinkled clothes and reaching for his discarded cloak.

Hunter smirked, "If I hadn't, you'd have slept the day away. Today's the last day of the festival. We'll likely head home tomorrow, so you don't want to miss this. Besides…"

The golden-furred cheetah grinned, "I could have got my new friends to wake you up, but I decided to be a little nicer."

"New friends?" Meadow raised an eyebrow, busy fastening his cloak and looking around for his spear. The two cheetahs had been sharing a room in Warfang, loaned to them by the dragons. It was always kept for them in case they came to visit. Meadow spotted his spear propped up against the opposite wall.

"Yes, in fact," Hunter turned towards the door, which was slightly ajar, "they're right here."

That was all Meadow got for a warning before the door sprung open and two young dragons dashed into the room. The blue one breathed a sort of fine mist from his jaws and the floor beneath Meadow's feet suddenly lost all traction. His paws slipped and he crashed to the floor, the cushions softening his fall. Before the cheetah could struggle back upright, he found himself pinned to the ground by the yellow dragon, who was grinning toothily at him.

"Pinned you."

"Aww, you should have let us wake him, Hunter!" the blue dragon complained, while Meadow struggled to get up with the yellow dragon sitting on his chest.

"I don't think he would have appreciated that," was Hunter's reply, an amused smile on his face, "Meadow, this is Ciro and Zannak. They're really quite friendly once you get to know them, if not a little rowdy."

Zannak grinned down at his prisoner, "How you going?"

Meadow stared up at the teal-eyed dragon, a little overwhelmed, "Fine. It's…nice to meet you. Now, could you get off?"

Still grinning mischievously, the yellow dragon backed away and let Meadow sit up. He did so with a suspicious look at the floor he had just been standing upon not moments before. As he suspected, it had been turned to ice. No wonder he slipped. The blue dragon, Ciro, was grinning at him.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr Cheetah."

"Meadow," the orange-furred cheetah sighed, "My name is Meadow."

"So we've heard," Zannak smirked, trotting towards the door, "Now are you going to stay in this stuffy little room all day, or are you coming down to the gardens with us?"

"The gardens?" Meadow asked curiously, and looked to Hunter for an explanation.

"There's a memorial for the late fire guardian to be held down there this morning," Hunter explained, "So you'd best hurry up, or we'll miss it."

"Well it's a good thing I'm ready now," Meadow replied, smoothing the wrinkles that Zannak had caused in his cloak. The two young dragons exchanged glances.

"Onwards!" Ciro cried, and charged out the door.

By the time Zannak, Ciro and the two cheetahs reached the gardens, there was already a large crowd gathered. Hunter led his small entourage through the crowd, apologising occasionally and waving morning greetings to some of the dragons. They eventually made it to the head of the throng and saw that they were crowding just in front of the stage, upon which the four guardians were stationed.

Hunter looked around for a familiar face, pausing briefly to wave to Saffron and Zephira. He spotted the purple dragon a few metres away, hurrying towards the gardens with Cynder on his tail. From the looks of it, the two young dragons had slept in that morning. Hunter grinned and beckoned them over.

"Spyro, Cynder, over here!" he called.

Spyro cantered over and trotted to a stop, panting lightly and looking sheepish. Next to him, Cynder strode gracefully to a stop and nudged the purple dragon with her hips. He blushed.

"We slept in," he told Hunter breathlessly, and the cheetah couldn't resist a grin.

"Been sharing a room have you?" He winked, and Spyro's cheeks burned red.

"Y-yes…" he stuttered, while Ciro and Zannak snickered about his expression.

Luckily, Cynder came to his rescue, "Stop teasing him, Hunter. He's been having trouble sleeping lately. So…I've been helping."

She turned an icy glare on the two snickering dragons, "and that's _all_!"

They quickly shut their mouths. Spyro smiled gratefully at the black dragoness. Ever since she'd found out about his training, she'd been spending the nights in Spyro's room with him. He found it easier to sleep when she was beside him, and the nightmares hardly seemed to bother him when she was around. Though he still had yet to master lava, his second lesson with Cyril had been a little more productive. He'd almost managed to accomplish water – almost. One more lesson, and he was sure he could get it.

But when he turned his eyes to the stage, Spyro remembered there were other things to think about this morning. Solemnly, he remembered what Cyril had told him only the afternoon before. A memorial was to be held for the late fire guardian, Ignitus – the one dragon that Spyro had looked up to more than any other. He had been like a father to the purple dragon, and his loss a year ago still left a dull ache in his heart. Ignitus had given his life so that the world may be saved. This memorial was the least they could do for him.

"Everything all right, Spyro?" Hunter asked, when he noticed the thoughtful, almost sad, look on his face.

Spyro blinked and shook the thoughts from his head, "Oh, yes. Just thinking."

Hunter heaved a relaxed sigh and sat down, cross-legged, beside the purple dragon. He laid his bow flat across his lap and gestured for the others to join him. Spyro sat down beside him.

"We might have to wait a while until everyone gets here," Hunter noted, as the crowd grew ever bigger behind them. Many stragglers were still hurrying to reach here.

The cheetah glanced at the purple dragon, "Were you thinking about Ignitus?"

Spyro looked vaguely surprised, but he nodded anyway, "I was."

The purple dragon gazed up at the sky, his eyes glazed over in thought, "Sometimes it's…hard to believe he's gone. It's been a year, but at times I still expect to see him here, like nothing has changed."

"You miss him, don't you?" Cynder asked softly, and Spyro nodded slowly.

"I do."

Hunter leant back, leaning on his arms propped up in the grass, "He is missed by many, I am sure. But as long as his memory still remains, he will never leave you."

A sad smile crossed Spyro's face, and he whispered the last words he'd ever heard Ignitus speak, "When a dragon dies he does not truly leave this world. His spirit lives on, binding itself with nature, offering hope for the future."

And Spyro knew that a truer word had never been spoken. The next few minutes were passed in comfortable silence, until Flame and Ember appeared on the scene. Apologising for being late, the red dragon had collapsed at Spyro's side, panting heavily. Ember only giggled.

"Ran…all the way…here," Flame gasped, taking deep breaths, "Slept…in."

"You're not the only one," Hunter grinned wryly, and gestured a paw towards the edge of the gardens.

Kazan was slowly making his way towards the crowd, his head hanging low. Spyro hadn't seen much of him since that talk they'd had in the western courtyard. He looked as despondent as he had then, and the purple dragon couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Ciro and Zannak called him over, and Spyro noticed he didn't dare meet Flame's eyes when he passed. But the next instant, the purple dragon's thoughts were pulled elsewhere.

"Is everyone here?" Terrador's loud voice boomed over the crowd, instilling instant silence, "Good. Now, as many of you know, we have gathered here this morning to pay our respects to a very important member of our society, who gave his life for us a year ago. I ask you all to remember the fire guardian Ignitus."

"He was a friend to many of us," Cyril continued, taking over, "and a mentor to others. He was the guardian of fire and an inspiration to us all. Without him, it is likely we would not be here today. He gave everything for us, and in return we give him our thanks and remember him as Ignitus, Guardian of Fire, mentor to the purple dragon, friend to us all."

"May his spirit live on for all eternity!" Volteer called, and Spyro smiled gently.

"It will," he whispered to himself.

After the memorial ceremony, the guardians revealed something they had been keeping a secret for a few days. A small marble slab had been set into the ground beneath the white blossom tree, decorated in the centre with a glimmering ruby in the shape of a tongue of flame. This was the true memorial to Ignitus. Spyro waited until most of the crowd had left before he strode over to the blossom tree and gazed upon the memorial stone.

Beneath the ruby flame, a small passage had been carved into the smooth white marble. Aware that Cynder was at his side, and his friends were watching, Spyro read the passage aloud.

"This stone has been set here to honour the memory of the late fire guardian, Ignitus. He gave his life for the world and shall always be remembered. May his flame burn for all eternity."

Spyro heaved a shaky sigh and, though he was smiling, a lone tear trickled haltingly down his cheek. It fell and splashed upon the ruby flame, and it seemed to Spyro's eyes that the precious gem shimmered then for a few brief moments. A tiny white blossom floated gently from the branches of the blossom tree, and came to rest upon the marble stone.

"His flame will burn forever," Spyro smiled, and turned away from the memorial stone.

"Are you ok?" Cynder asked gently, and he merely nodded.

"I'm fine, Cynder. I know he'll always be there."

When all the dragons had gone, and even Meadow had left with them, Hunter stood alone beneath the white blossom tree. His cloak shifted softly in the wind as he gazed down upon the marble stone and the fine words that were carved into it. A silence passed as he read the passage to himself, again and again.

"May his flame burn for all eternity," Hunter repeated to himself and knelt down.

The cheetah pulled an arrow from his quiver and held it briefly in his paws, before laying it carefully in front of the marble stone. The ruby flame seemed to shimmer, as though in thanks. Hunter's eyes were unusually bright as he gazed upon the stone memorial.

"You were a friend to me, Ignitus," he murmured, "I hope you are in peace now, wherever you are. I promised you I'd watch over Spyro, and I will. Goodbye, old friend."

Without another word, the cheetah stood up and turned away, his cloak billowing around him. Behind his back, the tiny ruby flame shone like real fire for a single moment and then was still. Far away in the White Isles, a mysterious dragon known as the Chronicler cracked a grateful smile.

"Sparx, what exactly _is _a ball?"

The yellow dragonfly glanced back at his large purple brother, who was lounging on the cushions in his room. It was getting close to mid-afternoon and almost time for Spyro to head to the courtyard for Volteer's lesson on lightning. Once that was over – Volteer promised they'd stop before the sun went down – they were to head to the main hall for what Sparx said was a 'ball'. But while Spyro knew what it was, he still wasn't entirely convinced he understood.

"Well," the dragonfly hovered down to rest in front of Spyro's nose, "a ball is…a dance. You know what a dance is, right big boy?"

"Well yeah, but…" Spyro raised a scaly eyebrow, "What do we do?"

"We dance!" Sparx threw his hands in the air, looking at the purple dragon as though he'd just asked the most obvious question in the world.

Spyro rolled his eyes and snorted a puff of smoke in the dragonfly's face. Coughing, Sparx waved the smoke away quickly and glared at his surrogate brother. Spyro stared right back.

"Well, how's this?" Sparx sighed, and started to explain, "Tonight the main hall is going to be done up with decorations and torches, and the long tables are going to be moved out of the way. There'll be music and stalls where you can get food from, and if you want some fresh air you can go out into the gardens – which are also decorated, mind you. Didn't you see the lantern chains I've been working on? They're going to be strung all through the trees!"

"Anyway, tonight when the sun goes down, everyone is going to gather in the hall. I recommend you dress up – armour or whatever – because I'm pretty sure that's what the dragonesses are planning. The trick is to find a partner…and ask them to dance! Course, everyone's going to be dancing, and I bet your little black she-dragon wouldn't mind waltzing with you."

At this, Sparx gave Spyro a teasing wink, but the purple dragon merely looked away.

"Unless someone else asks her to dance first…" the dragonfly added cheekily, and Spyro shot him a dirty look.

"No way! I'm the one who's going to ask her!" Then, suddenly realising the tone with which he'd spoken, the purple dragon blushed furiously and looked away. Sparx smirked.

"Well, better be quick," he leaned in close to Spyro's ear, "I've seen this green dragon from your classes has been eying her off for some time. Better watch out for him."

Spyro brushed him off, "Don't be stupid, Sparx. I better get down for training now, anyway."

He stood up, stretching, and trying not to dwell on the dragonfly's words. What did it matter if another dragon liked Cynder? He loved her and she…well, she loved him didn't she? Shaking his head roughly, Spyro strode casually towards the balcony.

"Ah, training," Sparx said, a thoughtful hand on his chin, "Still having trouble? Maybe it's because I'm not there to help."

Spyro had only let Sparx in on the news that he was undergoing advanced training about a day ago. And since then the dragonfly had hardly stopped bugging him about it. He seemed to think the only reason Spyro wasn't succeeding, was because his old buddy Sparx wasn't there to cheer him on! Of course, Spyro only wished it were that simple.

"Tell you what," Sparx hovered after his dragon brother, "I'll come watch. Maybe you'll do better with me around."

Spyro couldn't help but grin, "Thanks, Sparx. Maybe it will help."

But despite the dragonfly's presence, Spyro's training hardly seemed any easier.

"Concentrate!" Volteer kept yelling, "Try to focus on the electricity in the air around you! Call it to you!"

Spyro clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, focusing on all the energy around him. He could feel the electricity within his own body going haywire, desperate to escape his body and make itself known to the world. But quite suddenly he felt something different – a crackling energy from far above him, being pulled almost hesitantly towards him. It felt powerful.

"Come on, Spyro buddy! You can do it!"

Somehow, Sparx's yell seemed to trigger something in Spyro's mind. His claws dug involuntarily into the hard cobblestones and he urged that far away energy closer to his body. Electricity arced from his scales and he heard Volteer gasp. Suddenly, Spyro snapped his eyes open and stared at the sky, just as a rippling silver bolt cut jaggedly through the darkening clouds. It shot horizontally across the sky and disappeared as quickly as it had come. If Spyro had blinked, he would have missed it.

"Oh, well _done, _Spyro! You've almost got it!" Volteer praised excitedly.

Panting, Spyro grinned and let his shoulders droop. A feeling of accomplishment swelled in his chest. It hadn't been as strong as Volteer's bolt – it hadn't even left the sky – but it was lightning none the less. And he, Spyro, had summoned it.

"See, I knew you could do it," Sparx smirked, hovering over to the purple dragon, "Now let's get you some green gems from the infirmary."

As Spyro thanked Volteer for the lesson and followed Sparx towards the infirmary, he couldn't help thinking that maybe there was something more to the dragonfly's claim than he first thought. Perhaps all he needed was a few encouraging words from his brother.

"Let me see that armour," Sparx held his tiny hands out and Spyro reluctantly passed the black helm to him.

They were back in Spyro's room, getting ready for the ball that, apparently, had started several minutes ago. They were running a little late, but Sparx insisted on polishing Spyro's armour. Not that the purple dragon really wanted to wear it.

"I can just go without it," he insisted, and Sparx shook his head.

"No way. You want to go naked to a ball? I don't think so," he continued feverishly rubbing at the helm with a cloth, until it shone like the stars themselves. Spyro rolled his eyes.

"I haven't worn armour for more than a year, why should I do it now?" he asked, exasperated.

"Because I said so." There was no arguing with Sparx.

What amused Spyro the most was that Sparx himself had donned several pieces of armour. It had been specially made for him by the moles and he wore it proudly, though Spyro had already told him he looked foolish. The chest plate and armguards were vibrant orange, contemplating his golden glow rather dashingly. But still, Spyro wasn't used to seeing his dragonfly brother in armour.

"There," Sparx held the helm at arms length, though he had to rest it on the cushions to be able to hold it up. The black metal shone like a gem, polished to perfection.

Sighing, Spyro allowed the dragonfly to help him put the helm on. He had already donned the matching ankle guards and back-plate so now, with the helm, his set of armour was complete. Sparx hovered back so he could get a better look at the reluctant purple dragon.

"Good," he nodded approvingly, "I think we're ready to go!"

'_Finally_,' Spyro sighed to himself, and followed Sparx out of the room.

After receiving several green gems from the moles in the infirmary, Spyro felt a lot better. Now he was eager to find Cynder and the rest of his friends. Hopefully, he thought, it should be a good night. Vaguely he wondered if Flame had been forced to wear armour too.

They passed by the gardens on their way to the main hall and Spyro saw the strings of lanterns that Sparx had been talking about earlier. They were like little red paper baubles hanging from almost invisible threads strung between the branches of trees. Tall torches washed the gardens in a golden-orange glow. Most dragons were headed towards the main hall like they were, and Spyro saw to his relief that many of them were wearing armour like he was. At least he wouldn't stand out from the crowd – although his purple scales accomplished that just fine.

The first person Spyro spotted upon reaching the hall was none other than his friend and rival, Flame. To his great relief, the hot-headed red dragon was also wearing armour. Unlike Spyro's, Flame's armour was rich gold and seemed to bring out the colour in his eyes. He looked almost heroic standing there in full-armoured glory. Ember was nowhere to be seen.

"Oi, Spyro!" as soon as Flame spotted the purple dragon, he hurried over, "There you are! I was looking for you."

"You're wearing armour," Spyro couldn't resist saying, as he'd never seen the red dragon wear armour before.

"So are you," Flame shot back swiftly and then glanced around, "I can't find the girls anywhere! Hell, I haven't seen Ember since early this afternoon! She's been talking about this all day, so I wonder why she isn't here…"

"Probably getting ready," Sparx said dismissively, and Flame raised an eyebrow.

"Since when does it take half the day to get ready?" Spyro had to agree with that statement.

"Relax," Sparx grinned and ushered them towards the doors of the main hall, "They'll get here eventually. So get it there and enjoy yourselves!"

"Alright, alright," Flame snorted and pushed through the crowd thronging around the doors. Spyro followed close, not wanting to lose his friend in the crowd.

Once inside the hall, the two young dragons had a chance to admire what had been done with the place. The two long tables had been shifted out of the way and were now propped against the walls on either side. At the far end of the hall, a stage had been set up, and there were small stalls all around the walls. Hanging from the banisters were strings of small metal cradles, each holding a tiny lit candle, and more of those little red lanterns. The floor itself looked as though it had been polished.

"So, what do you think?" Sparx asked, staring pointedly at Spyro.

"It's…it's great Sparx," he stuttered quickly, and the dragonfly nodded approvingly.

"So it should be!" with that he flitted away and disappeared into the kitchens, no doubt to harass the moles in there.

"Is it just me or is he more bossy than usual?" Flame muttered once the dragonfly had gone.

"Well, he is the one who organised it," Spyro replied fairly.

Together, the two young dragons strode through the hall, weaving around the crowds of dragons and looking for familiar faces. Spyro kept an eye out for Cynder, but didn't see her anywhere. They had no luck with Ember, either, but they did see Zannak, Ciro and Kazan chatting together near one of the stalls. In fact, the more he looked, the more Spyro realised he couldn't see a single young female dragon anywhere.

"Where do you think they are?" Spyro asked, after pointing this out to Flame.

"Who knows," the red dragon was glaring around suspiciously, "Maybe they've all been planning something together…"

"Looking for the girls?" a voice asked suddenly, and they spun around to see Ciro and Zannak standing behind them. Kazan stood a little further away, watching sullenly.

"Yeah, do you know where they are?" Spyro asked curiously, but Zannak shook his head.

"All I know is that Saffron, Zephira and some of the other girls have been planning something for a few days now. No idea what it is, though," the yellow dragon shrugged.

Ciro glanced behind him, "Hey, Kazan, what are you doing over there? Get over here!"

Reluctantly, Kazan heeded the ice dragon's words and plodded over to join them. For a moment his eyes met Flame's and a wordless challenge of rivalry was passed between the two. Spyro made a mental note to keep them apart for the night. He soon noticed that all three of them were also wearing armour. Ciro's was silvery white, Zannak's was black like Spyro's, and Kazan's armour was pale gold. Their armour didn't look nearly as shiny as Spyro's or Flame's.

"Where'd you get the armour?" Spyro asked all three of them curiously.

"Borrowed it," Ciro replied shortly, "There's a whole stash of old armour over at the blacksmith's. We could have got some of the newer stuff but…it doesn't come cheap. So we just borrowed some of the old pieces. What about you?"

"I've had it for a while," Spyro replied, wondering where the blacksmith's was and why he'd never been there. He supposed he'd never had the need to.

"What about you, Flame?" Zannak asked, and to everyone's surprise the red dragon almost looked embarrassed.

"It…uh…it was a gift from Thasos…" Flame mumbled, "He gave it to me a few months ago – said I needed some nice armour to wear to ceremonies."

Kazan didn't seem pleased at all that the Fire Guardian had shown favouritism to his worst rival. He seemed about to make some sort of cutting remark, but a possible argument was prevented by the timely arrival of the cheetahs. Hunter entered the hall at the head of his small group of comrades, looking much the same as ever. However, as the cheetah strode closer, Spyro noticed something different.

"Hunter! ...Is that a new cape?" the purple dragon considered his cheetah friend.

Hunter grinned and turned to allow the dragons to get a better look at his cape. It was indeed new. Instead of the tatty old brown cloak he always wore, Hunter now sported a rich forest-brown cape. It looked soft to the touch and was edged with a deep green material that perfectly matched the new tunic the cheetah was also wearing. There were also matching armguards on his wrists that Spyro hadn't noticed at first. All in all, the golden-furred cheetah looked rather dashing.

"A gift from the guardians," Hunter stated proudly, "Meadow, too."

Spyro looked and, sure enough, Meadow was also wearing new clothes – though his tunic was a faded gold unlike Hunter's green. The rest of the cheetahs had already disappeared, mingling into the crowd of dragons. Hunter gazed at the group of young male dragons.

"Where are the dragonesses this evening?" he asked curiously, and the dragons exchanged glances.

"We don't know," Flame finally replied, "We're hoping they'll show up eventually…"

Hunter smiled, "oh, I'm sure they will."

As though Hunter's words had been a silent command, gradually the whole crowd began to fall into silence. Spyro looked around for the reason and saw that the mole band had clambered into the stage and were waiting for silence. Everyone turned to face the stage, until the whole hall was deathly silent.

"Audience!" a deep throated mole stood at the edge of the stage, and Spyro's eyes widened in recognition.

"Quin," he muttered, grinning as he recognised the head chef. He looked quite different without his chef hat, but Spyro would remember that jolly, furry face anywhere.

Quin spread his tiny arms, "Allow us to present – the beautiful dragonesses of Warfang!"

Spyro's eyes widened as, seemingly from behind the stage, several dragonesses began to appear. They flowed out like a graceful wave, their scales gleaming in the firelight, and slowly lined up in front of the stage. All of them were wearing some sort of jewellery, armour, or decorative cloak, and their scales glimmered as brightly as spirit gems. The young male dragons in the hall were dumbstruck, but Spyro only had eyes for one dragoness – a black dragoness at the very centre of the line.

Cynder stood side by side with Ember at the centre of the line of dragonesses. Spyro had never seen her look so perfect. Her whole body seemed to shine, as though she was made of precious gems rather than flesh and scales. The necklace he had bought her rested against her ruby chest, the emerald shining in the firelight, and she wore silvery anklets on her legs. Spyro remembered giving those to her as well, quite a while ago.

Upon her head, to match the silver of her necklace and anklets, was a helm that looked more like a tiara than a helmet. It curved delicately over her eyes and tapered into a diamond-like shape upon her forehead. However, it was her eyes that Spyro noticed most. They seemed to shine like emerald fire, beautiful and daring, and Spyro felt his heart flutter as they met his own.

Beside him, Flame seemed just as dumbstruck – but with the dragoness beside Cynder. Ember, too, wore shining golden armour, though it was more delicate than his. Over her shoulders, she wore a vibrant pink cloak that contemplated her pale pink scales beautifully. Her periwinkle-blue eyes gazed coyly at Flame, who was glad that his scales were red to hide the blush.

Beside him, Spyro heard Ciro give a low whistle. Zannak nudged his friend teasingly.

"Spotted her, haven't you?" the electricity dragon snickered.

Ciro's eyes had gone glassy, and Spyro couldn't figure out which dragoness he was staring at. Maybe it was that green dragoness near the end of the line…

"Look at her, Zannak! Isn't she just the prettiest little thing you've ever seen?" the young ice dragon sighed wistfully, and Zannak snickered, "I wonder if I can catch her attention!"

Kazan hadn't said a word. His gaze was fixed on another dragoness and, try as he might, he couldn't look away. Saffron wasn't even looking at him – in fact she seemed to be making a point _not_ to look at him – but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She glowed like the midday sun, her eyes as vibrant as amethysts, and her smile as dazzling as the morning light.

Delicate, silvery armour adorned her ankles, back and forehead, and there was a crystal ring around her tail. She was standing beside Zephira, who looked small and fragile surrounded by all the other dragonesses. But Kazan barely glanced at the little white wind dragoness. His eyes were fixed on Saffron.

"What am I thinking?" he hissed to himself angrily, shaking his head furiously, "She's a witch. A deceptive witch."

But even he knew he didn't believe that. The moles on stage had begun to play, a soft and cheerful melody, and the guardians had suddenly appeared on stage. Terrador gazed around him and nodded for Thasos to stand up and give the brief opening speech.

"Now that we are all here, and our young dragonesses have made their grand entrance," the fire guardian winked at the lined up females, who had turned to face him, "Welcome to our ball! I hope you all enjoy yourselves!"

The crowd cheered and Thasos bowed and followed the other guardians off the stage. As the mole musicians began to pick up the pace with a more lively melody, the young dragoness moved to mingle with the others. Spyro pushed his way through, but quickly lost sight of Cynder amongst the crowd. Flame had a little more luck.

"Ember!" he cried, hurrying towards her and almost crashing into another larger dragon. The pink dragoness giggled when Flame tripped over his own paws and almost fell.

"Y-you look beautiful," Flame stuttered, gazing into her vibrant blue eyes. A delicate blush spread across Ember's cheeks.

"You look pretty handsome yourself," she winked, and leant forwards to give him a cheeky lick on the tip of his muzzle. Flame's face burned in embarrassment, but his red scales didn't show it.

Turning his eyes away from the couple, Spyro scanned the crowd for Cynder. She had been there only a moment ago, but now was nowhere to be seen. Scowling, the purple dragon pushed his way through the crowd.

"Hey, sis, lookin' pretty!" Ciro winked as Zephira and Saffron passed by, "You too, Saff!"

"Thankyou, Ciro," Saffron replied solemnly. She and Zephira broke into giggles seconds later as they left their brothers behind. The yellow dragoness had no idea that Kazan's eyes were following her.

Spyro almost crashed into Hunter as he weaved around another dragon, "Oh, Hunter. Have you seen Cynder? She was here a moment ago."

The cheetah pointed to his left, "Yes, I saw her over there a few seconds ago. It's rather easy to lose someone in here, isn't it? I've already lost Meadow!"

Thanking Hunter, Spyro hurried towards the crowd that Hunter had pointed to. He spotted Meadow chatting with two older dragons, but didn't stop to tell him that Hunter was looking for him. Where was Cynder? He looked everywhere for those familiar black scales, but didn't see them anywhere. Then, quite suddenly, two dragons shifted out of his way and she was right there in front of him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Spyro strode towards her. She had her back towards him, and was looking around as though she had lost something. No doubt she was looking for him. But he was barely a meter away when things started going wrong. A dark green dragon about his own age had just moved in front of Spyro, almost blocking Cynder from view. He had pale parchment-coloured wings and a dark brown underbelly, and Spyro was sure he had seen him before.

As Cynder moved to face the green dragon, Spyro saw him say a few words that were lost in the noise of the hall. Cynder seemed to hesitate for a few moments before she seemed to sigh and nod, giving the young green dragon a gentle smile. And then, right before Spyro's eyes, the green dragon led her out onto the dance floor. Spyro's jaw almost dropped to the floor. He recognised that green dragon now. He was an earth dragon that had been in many of Spyro's classes, and was one of Terrador's prize pupils. His name was Chasm, if Spyro remembered correctly.

Was this the green dragon that Sparx had talked about? The one who had been eying Cynder? It seemed likely, and Spyro felt his blood boil as he watched Chasm lead Cynder onto the dance floor. Several other couples had also moved into the centre of the hall, and the crowd had shifted to allow them room. Bitterly, Spyro watched as Cynder and the green dragon began to circle each other, stepping in time to the music. He barely noticed that Ember and Flame were also dancing.

"What's wrong, Spyro?" the purple dragon almost jumped out of his skin when Saffron suddenly appeared beside him. He had been so focused on the two that he hadn't been paying attention to anything else.

"Uh…" Spyro hesitated and glanced towards the dancers. Saffron caught sight of Chasm and Cynder and understood immediately.

"Aww," she smiled understandingly, "Come on, Spyro, let Chasm have his fun. You know Cynder has eyes only for you. Come on, I'll dance with you."

Reluctantly, Spyro took the electricity dragoness up on the offer. On the dance floor, they began to circle one another, changing direction in time with the beat and slowly edging closer together. Saffron smiled coyly at him as she edged closer, but Spyro kept shooting glances at Cynder and her dancing partner. He circled, brushing Saffron's wing tip with his own, and their tails intertwined for a split second.

Changing direction, Spyro felt Saffron's wing brush beneath his chin. The faintest hint of a blush touched his cheeks, but again his eyes slid over to Cynder. Saffron sighed and edged closer until her muzzle was close to Spyro's head.

"Listen," she whispered, and her eyes darted to the left, "I can see my brother over there. I know you want to dance with Cynder, and if anyone can get Chasm away from her, it's Zannak. Come on, move with me."

Spyro nodded quickly and slowly they began to dance their way over to Zannak, who was whispering something to Ciro. The ice dragon had his eyes settled on the green dragoness from before, an eager grin on his face.

"You think I can catch her attention?" he hissed to Zannak, and the electricity dragon nodded confidently.

"Go for it. She's all yours," Zannak turned as Saffron and Spyro approached, "Well, well, if it isn't my little sis. Snagged yourself a purple dragon, I see. Where's Cynder, hey Spyro?"

Saffron rolled her eyes, "Chasm's dragged Cynder onto the dance floor, and you know how possessive he gets. We need to separate them so Spyro can get in there. Any ideas?"

Zannak smirked and exchanged a glance with Ciro, who had briefly taken his eyes off the green dragoness, "You came to the right place, sis. If there's anything we can do, it's disrupting others! Ciro, I think you know what to do!"

"On it!" the blue dragoness trotted boldly towards the young green dragoness he'd had his eye on. Saffron looked on, bemused.

"Nalu!" Ciro cried, sinking into a deep bow. The green dragoness turned towards him, surprised, "It would do me the greatest of honours if you would accept my offer of a dance, fair dragoness! Will you grant me that honour, fair Nalu?"

Nalu, the green dragoness, blushed furiously and glanced at her friend, who nodded quickly. Smiling shyly, Nalu slowly nodded and agreed. Ciro looked as though he'd just been named the guardian of ice as he rose from his bow and extended his wing towards the green dragoness.

"Then we shall dance!" he claimed, and winked at her as she placed her own wing upon his. As Ciro led her onto the dance floor, he winked inconspicuously at Zannak.

Zannak grinned, "Excellent. Now, Saffron, here's where we come in. I'll tell you want we're going to do…"

Chasm had never felt more accomplished than those first few seconds in which Cynder had accepted his offer of a dance. He swelled with pride and pushed his brown chest out, as though to show off the many muscles he'd acquired in his earth element training. Now, dancing on the floor with Cynder, Chasm decided it was time he made his next move. After all, such a beautiful dragoness deserved a strong and fine dragon such as he.

"Cynder," he smiled as he circled close to her, brushing his wingtip across her cheek, "I was wondering…would you by any chance be interested in spending an afternoon with me tom-?"

But Chasm never managed to finish his question. As he and Cynder parted briefly in their dance, another couple suddenly waltzed between them and knocked them further away from each other. Chasm stared at the couple – a blue dragon and a green dragoness. Ciro and Nalu, if he remembered correctly. Nalu turned to apologise, but Ciro just grinned at him. Cheeky little fellow, that Ciro was. And now he had come between him and Cynder!

As Ciro and Nalu slowly danced out of their way, Chasm made to move back to Cynder, but suddenly found his way blocked by two yellow dragons – siblings in fact. He recognised the male as Zannak, another one of his classmates. The female, Zannak's sister, was smiling coyly at him. Chasm blinked.

"Chasm! Buddy!" Zannak spread a wing by way of greeting, inconspicuously pushing Chasm back towards the crowd, "How you going?"

"Fine, Zannak," Chasm scowled, "Now if you don't mind…"

"Listen, Chas," Zannak turned to glance at his sister, "My little sis here has been wanting to dance with you. But she's way too shy to ask! Do me a favour and dance with her, won't you? I do like to see my little sis happy!"

Chasm hesitated, "I…well…I was…"

"Oh…please, Chasm," Saffron said, batting her eyelashes at him, "It won't take very long. And I've always admired a big, strong dragon like you. Oh, please dance with me!"

Chasm coughed and puffed out his chest, his ego swelling once more, "Well, I don't suppose one little dance could hurt! And I am strong, like you said!"

Zannak grinned triumphantly as Saffron moved to dance with Chasm, still smiling that coy little smile. He had to admit, she was a good actor. Turning around, Zannak winked at Spyro and slunk away into the crowd. The purple dragon slipped onto the dance floor.

Cynder had been standing in the middle of the dance-floor, feeling a little lost after Ciro and Nalu had passed by. Though she was glad they had gotten her away from that rather possessive Chasm, she now felt a little foolish standing on her own in the middle of the dance floor. She was regretting ever agreeing to dance with that green dragon. Where was Spyro, anyway?

Just as Cynder was about to turn away and disappear into the crowd, her knight in shining armour suddenly appeared before her. Spyro strode through the waltzing dancers, his armour glinting in the firelight, and a strange look in his eye that made Cynder's heart beat faster. She remained still, staring at him, until he stopped right in front of her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his violet-eyed gaze.

"Cynder."

Her heart fluttered when he spoke her name. She nervously shifted her feet and nodded, admiring the way the armour complemented the colour of his scales. He looked like a true hero.

"Will you dance with me?"

Cynder smiled, an invisible blush spreading across her obsidian cheeks. She nodded, wordlessly, and Spyro smiled. He extended a wing, she extended her own to meet it, and they began to dance. By the time Chasm was able to get away from Saffron, who had suddenly started acting very possessive, he saw to his great annoyance that his black dragoness had been stolen. Bitterly he glared at Spyro's back, but the purple dragon didn't even notice. Her mission achieved, Saffron smirked and slunk away into the crowd.

"You look beautiful tonight," Spyro whispered, moving close to Cynder, his muzzle brushing her cheek. She spun away from him, brushing the tip of her tail over his chest.

"Thankyou, Spyro," she smiled, moving her wing so that the tip brushed against his, "You look quite handsome."

They shifted closer together, sides brushing against each others, chests almost touching, tails entwining. Spyro rose up onto his hind legs and Cynder did the same, linking her forepaws with his. Their muzzles hovered level, barely a hairs-breadth between them, and suddenly Cynder spun away once more. She turned a graceful pirouette and landed back on all fours, turning swiftly as Spyro lowered himself back onto all fours as well. Their cheeks met as they moved closer, and the music slowly faded into silence.

Spyro turned his head to gaze at her emerald eyes. Their muzzles inched closer, almost connecting. Everything else seemed to have melted away around them, as though they were standing on air – alone with each other. Cynder's lips brushed briefly against his own, and suddenly a loud wolf-whistle pierced the air. Blushing, the two young dragons quickly turned away from each other. Spyro glanced briefly towards the crowd in time to see Saffron whack her brother upside the head.

"Perhaps we should take this outside," Cynder suggested, noticing Chasm's jealous eyes on Spyro.

The purple dragon agreed and, feeling a whole lot lighter, followed the black dragoness out into the night. Outside it was a lot quieter, with a lot fewer dragons in a much more open space. They made their way towards the gardens, content beside one another with their tails entwined. There didn't seem to be any reason to speak.

The air was crisp and cool, a refreshing breeze that felt as though it cleansed the very soul. The grass beneath Spyro's feet was soft and, before he knew it, his feet had carried him towards the blossom tree in the centre of the gardens. The ruby flame of Ignitus's memorial stone seemed to shine in the darkness. Spyro gazed upon the delicate tree.

"Do you remember," Cynder said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, "back when we first saw this tree? You plucked one from the branches and gave it to me."

Spyro smiled vaguely, "I remember. It looked lovely on you."

Cynder glanced at him, a shy smile on her face, "You know, I thought you were going to kiss me back then."

The purple dragon turned to meet her eyes, "I would have…if that bell hadn't interrupted us."

"Well…" Cynder shifted slowly closer, her emerald eyes never leaving his violet gaze, "There's no bell to interrupt us now…"

Spyro needed no more of an invitation than that. He pushed his lips against hers, glad they were finally away from the crowded hall, glad that they were all alone at last, glad that she was beside him and would be forever. A chill wind blew over their scales, but went unnoticed. When they parted, feeling a little more breathless than before, Spyro's heart felt so light he thought it might float out of his chest.

"I…I love you, Cynder."

"I know," she smirked and rubbed her head beneath his chin, "I love you too."

As the night wore on, Hunter found the hall became increasingly stifling. Eventually he chose to head outside, passing by Naxos and Delos who were arguing over who got to dance with Chios. Spyro and Cynder had just re-entered the hall and Hunter waved to them as he moved to go outside.

"Hunter! I haven't seen you much tonight!" the purple dragon greeted, as he and Cynder paused. The black dragoness whispered something in his ear and trotted away after licking his cheek. Spyro smiled after her.

"Yes, I was just heading outside for some fresh air," the cheetah replied, sweeping a paw through the short golden fur on his head, "Care to join me?"

Spyro glanced once more towards Cynder. The black dragoness had found Ember, and was now chatting with her, Saffron and Zephira. She seemed cheerful enough, and Spyro didn't fancy staying in the noisy hall for very long.

"Sure, it's too noisy in here anyway," Spyro accepted the cheetah's offer, and the two left the hall.

The last thing they heard before they stepped out into the cool silence of the streets was Zannak and Ciro egging Kazan on.

"Dance with her! You've been staring at her all night, Kaz!" Zannak was saying, while Ciro quickly nodded his head.

But Kazan shook his head roughly, "No! No way! I'm not dancing with her!"

That was all Spyro heard before the doors swung closed behind he and Hunter and left them in the silence of the evening. The cheetah stretched his arms to the sky, taking a deep and cleansing breath.

"Ah, it feels good to be out of that hall!" Hunter grinned, "It was getting a little crowded. Shall we walk?"

Together, the dragon and the cheetah headed away from the hall and along the moonlit streets. They didn't bother going to the gardens and instead strolled leisurely down the laneways between buildings. There was no one else out here and the music from the hall could still be heard faintly in the distance.

"Have you been enjoying yourself, Hunter?" Spyro asked as they strolled along the dark streets.

"Indeed I have, young dragon. And what about you? Cynder tells me you've still been training these past few days."

Spyro blinked, "Cynder told you that?"

"Yes, forgive me, Spyro…" Hunter rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "I was worried about me, so I asked. Forgive me if I intruded upon anything private…"

"It's fine," Spyro said quickly, shaking his head, "I guess I worried more than just Cynder. It's just the training has been so tough and I…I've just been so tired."

Hunter nodded slowly, "Believe it or not, Spyro, I understand how you feel. When I was a young cheetah, younger than you even, I was forced to undergo strict training in order to become the warrior I am today. It was hard, gruelling work, and at times I wanted nothing more than to give up. But, over time I began to realise that all that hard work was not for nothing – it made me who I am today and I may not even be alive without it. Believe me, Spyro; your hard work will pay off."

"Thanks, Hunter."

A silence fell and soon the two realised that their feet had lead them to a balcony that looked out over the streets. They gazed towards the eastern wall, bathed in the light of the celestial moons. It was a peaceful night. Hunter sighed and rested his arms on the rail of the balcony, gazing into the night.

"Your city is an amazing place, Spyro," he admitted.

"It is an amazing place," Spyro agreed, "But it's not my city. It belongs to everyone."

Hunter smiled, "It is almost a shame to leave. You'll come visit us in Avalar, won't you? I can't remember the last time you did."

Spyro nodded, "Yeah, we will. You know it's kind of a shame that Prowlus didn't come to the festival. I'm sure he would have enjoyed himself."

Hunter waved a dismissive hand, "You know how he is – stiffer than the shaft of his spear and as stubborn as a lark."

"That's true," Spyro grinned, "So when are you going back to Avalar?"

Hunter rested his chin on his hand, "Perhaps I shall stay for a few more days and then return. There hasn't been much to do in the Valley lately…"

Spyro stared at his paws for a few moments and then said hesitantly, "Maybe…you could all move here, instead. There's more than enough room for your whole tribe."

Hunter straightened up and stared at the purple dragon with wide aqua eyes. He'd never thought of it before and he'd never even expected Spyro to ask such a question. Hunter couldn't resist a chuckle.

"You know, Spyro, I wouldn't mind taking you up on that offer! But…" he trailed off and stared into the dark night sky, "…Avalar is our home and we could never –."

Quite suddenly Hunter stopped speaking, his gaze still fixed on the sky. Confused by his sudden silence, Spyro glanced up at his cheetah friend. But Hunter was staring into the distance, a confused and almost concerned frown on his face.

"Hunter...?" Spyro asked anxiously, "Something wrong?"

The cheetah placed a paw on the railing and took a step forwards, still staring at the sky, "Is that…? That is…"

Out of the darkness, a small figure had just emerged, flying towards the two. Spyro wasn't sure what it was at first but moments later, when the moonlight touched it, he realised.

"That's Prowlus's hawk!" Hunter exclaimed.

The cheetah held out his arm and the hawk slowly soared down to rest upon it, digging its claws into Hunter's armguards. It was a rather handsome creature, with silky dark brown feathers and vibrant, intelligent yellow eyes. There was something tied to its leg – a piece of rolled up parchment. Hunter gently untied the parchment from the bird's leg and allowed it to hop from his arm onto the railing.

Aware of Spyro's curious gaze, Hunter unrolled the parchment and gazed at the untidy scrawl written upon it. It appeared to have been written in a hurry. Hunter's eyes slowly widened in horror as he read the hastily scrawled passage. Spyro, on the other hand, was trying to get a better look at it. He couldn't see the writing on the page, but he could see the expression on Hunter's face.

At last the purple dragon couldn't take it anymore.

"Hunter! Hunter, what is it?" Spyro asked desperately, not at all liking the look on his friend's face, "What does it say?"

For a moment Hunter was silent, his paws trembling as he gazed upon the piece of parchment. Spyro had a feeling that, if it hadn't been for his fur, Hunter would have been as pale as a ghost. At last the cheetah curled his fist around the parchment and crushed it between his claws. He spoke without looking at Spyro, and his answer was grave.

"The cheetah village has been infiltrated. Prowlus has been attacked by an assassin."

**A/N: Looooong chapter! Now, Q&A time! Cynder fan asked this question, and I figured I might as well answer it here for everyone to see: How many pages on word does one of my chapters take up? 10 - 15 pages is a pretty normal size for one of my chapters, but really long chapters like this one can be upwards of 20 pages. This actual chapter took up just over 26 pages. :) Got a question about this story you want answered? Ask me, and I'll do what I can to answer it. ;) Also, thanks a bunch to all the reviewers who have given me tips and suggestions (big thanks to X007 for some of the ideas in this chapter). The sheer amount of reviews already has left me flabbergasted (don't you just love that word?), so thank you all very much! I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter!**

**On another note, because I usually have precious little to brag about but can't resist when I do... Tears of an Oracle has reached over 22 000 hits and over 70 favourites. :3 Thanks to all my awesome readers!**


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

Hunter dashed into the streets, the note crumpled in his paw and Prowlus's hawk swooping after him. Spyro almost tripped on the cobblestones as he hurried to catch up.

"Hunter, wait!" the purple dragon cried, but the cheetah hardly heard him.

Hunter's heart was pounding in his ears, so loud it blocked out even Spyro's desperate calls. Panic had flooded his veins, like icy water flowing through his body, and it shrouded every shred of common sense. He had to get back to Avalar – he had to get back fast. Was Prowlus alright? Was he even alive? The note hadn't stated. He had to get back fast.

"Hunter!" the purple dragon's voice finally broke into his thoughts and the cheetah skidded to a halt.

He held his arm out to the hawk and it landed gratefully on his armguard. Panting from his sudden dash and the fearful beating of his heart, Hunter remained still long enough to give the bird a message.

"Tell them I'll return as soon as I can. Quickly!"

He tossed his arm into the air and the bird took flight, soaring away into the night sky. Spyro had barely caught up before Hunter took off again, heading towards the main hall. Groaning, the purple dragon galloped after him. He wasn't sure what was going on or why. Everything felt strangely unreal, as though he was living a dream. But for Hunter it was more like a nightmare.

The cheetah skidded to a halt near the doors to the main hall. The music was still blaring through the doors and there were laughing couples all around them, heading towards or away from the gardens. No one seemed to notice Hunter's panicked state. The cheetah turned as Spyro caught up with him.

"Listen to me, Spyro," he said urgently, "I need you to tell Meadow and the Guardians what has happened. I must get back to Avalar immediately! Send assistance as soon as you can – we may need it! Can you do that?"

But Spyro felt largely overwhelmed and shook his head roughly, "No, Hunter, I'm coming with you!"

Hunter gave the young dragon a pained look, "Spyro, please, there's no time for arguing! Somebody needs to alert the guardians and I need to get back to the village as soon as possible! I'm not sure on the details, but if that assassination succeeded…"

The cheetah broke off with a shudder, his eyes glassy with fear. Spyro had never seen Hunter this way and that scared him. But it made him all the more determined not to let the cheetah leave on his own. Neither of them was sure what would be waiting for them once they reached the valley and Spyro was loath to let Hunter go alone. He didn't know what was happening, but Hunter needed someone to watch his back.

"I'm not letting you do this alone, Hunter. I'm coming with you!"

Hunter clenched his fists, "The guardians need to know, Spyro!"

"Then someone will tell them!" Spyro roared back. He turned around swiftly to look for someone to use as a messenger and was almost relieved when he spotted a familiar face.

"Zannak!" The yellow dragon turned at the sound of his name. He appeared to have just left the gardens and, upon seeing Spyro, trotted cheerily over.

"Hey, Spyro, what's-?" the electricity dragon barely managed to get a word in before Spyro desperately cut him off.

"Listen to me, Zannak, this is important!" the purple dragon insisted and Zannak took a hesitant step back in surprise, "I need you to get this message to the guardians right now! Find them and tell them – no diversions!"

The electricity dragon stared, confused, "S-sure, Spyro. What is it?"

The purple dragon's pupils appeared to have dilated, giving him a desperate, almost mad, look. Zannak had never seen him this panicked.

"Tell the guardians that the cheetah village in Avalar has been attacked. There's been an assassination attempt on Prowlus, and we don't know if it was successful or not. Tell them to rally some assistance and get down to the valley as soon as they can! Have you got that, Zannak? Now go!"

Overwhelmed, the yellow dragon hesitated, "But…"

"Go!" Spyro cried, his voice cracking with fear and desperation. Zannak's teal eyes hardened and he turned on his heel, dashing through the crowd. He was gone in an instant.

"There," Spyro growled huskily, turning back to Hunter, "he'll tell them. Now let's go, Hunter!"

The cheetah didn't hesitate. With a brief nod of his head, he took off running at full speed towards the Southern Wall. It was lucky he wore his bow and quiver wherever he went and he clutched his bow anxiously as he and Spyro dashed through the streets. Why was this happening? Who could have done something like this and why? But these questions went unanswered as they repeated mercilessly in Hunter's mind.

"The Forbidden Passage should get us there before first light," he panted to Spyro, "If we keep up this pace we could reach the valley within an hour or two."

But Spyro knew that Hunter couldn't keep running for so long, no matter how desperate he was. They could only hope that the situation wasn't as dire as it seemed and that Zannak managed to find the guardians soon. As the darkness of the passage closed over them, Hunter hoped that he wasn't already too late.

Hunter managed to keep running for almost entire hour. But eventually his exhausted body gave out and, as his paws slipped on the earth beneath his feet, the cheetah crashed to the ground. He hit the ground hard and lay wincing for several moments, his body quivering with pain and exhaustion. Digging his claws into the soft earth, Hunter tried to slow his frantically beating heart.

"Hunter!" Spyro cried when he saw his friend fall. He had fallen back almost half an hour ago, unable to keep up with Hunter's fast pace and knowing that the cheetah couldn't keep it up forever. He was right, of course.

The purple dragon hurried to the cheetah's side, breathing heavily and feeling short of breath. His legs trembling, Spyro tried weakly to push Hunter back to his feet. But the cheetah pushed him away and forced his trembling body onto hands and knees. He took deep, raspy breaths, trying to get his breath back. Spyro watched him with concern.

"You need to stop, Hunter," the purple dragon insisted, "You can't keep going like this. You're exhausted!"

But his words were in vain. Hunter shook his head stubbornly, eyes screwed shut and mouth open and panting.

"No," he gasped, pushing himself back into a crouching position, "I must…continue. Prowlus…the village…"

With a grunt, the cheetah attempted to stand up, only to have his legs give out beneath him. He crashed to the ground once more, but his fall was stopped partially by Spyro, who had positioned himself in front of the cheetah. Hunter found himself propped up on Spyro's shoulders and he leant an arm on the young dragon's back gratefully. His legs ached horribly, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the ache of fear that ate at his heart.

"We must keep going, Spyro," Hunter implored weakly, his aqua eyes staring pleadingly at the purple dragon's worried face, "My village…needs me. I cannot afford to rest while they may be in peril. Prowlus…"

Spyro heaved a shuddering sigh and looked away, "I know, Hunter, I know."

His violet eyes stared deep into the darkness of the Forbidden Passage. He wasn't sure how close they were to the Valley, but they had been running for almost an hour. Surely they would be at least halfway there? It would be past midnight by now. Spyro was exhausted, but he knew that Hunter was right. They had to keep going.

"Can you stand?" Spyro asked anxiously, and the cheetah nodded uncertainly, "Let's keep going. We must be almost there."

Hunter stared ahead, "We've passed the halfway point, that I am sure of."

Body trembling with fatigue, the cheetah pushed himself onto his feet, bracing himself against Spyro's solid form. The purple dragon waited until Hunter had steadied himself before he began to walk. They continued side by side, taking deep gasps of air to catch their breath and slow their thundering hearts. Hunter's fur was matted with dirt from his fall and his new cloak was crumpled and dusty. But that hardly seemed to matter.

"Prowlus," Hunter mumbled into the silent tunnel, "I'm on my way."

The minutes dragged on like hours as the pair limped their way through the passage, slowly gathering speed as they gathered what was left of their waning stamina. Hunter kept a solid hand on one of Spyro's horns and Spyro had a feeling it was the only thing keeping the cheetah upright. But eventually the darkness of the passage gave way to a pale light, so dim it almost wasn't there. Taking his paw from Spyro's horn, Hunter began to jog.

"Wait!" Spyro called, surprised as the cheetah broke into a run. The young dragon cantered after his friend and into the dim light.

The passage opened out onto moonlit grass and dimly lit trees that swayed gently in an almost non-existent wind. Panting from his short run, Hunter leant against the nearest tree and gazed around at his surroundings. They had made it back to the valley. The celestial moons cast a pale glow upon the grass and caused the flowing waters of the river to sparkle silver like the stars. It was too serene.

"Hurry, Spyro!" Hunter wheezed and dashed into the trees, bow in hand.

Spyro shook himself like a dog, trying to shift the fatigue from his mind. His eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion, but he ignored that and hurried to catch up with Hunter. The cheetah had taken off at full pelt and was now well ahead of Spyro, but the purple dragon could hear him clearly as he crashed through the undergrowth. If anything was waiting for them at the village, surely it would hear them coming. Spyro scowled grimly.

Hunter left the trees behind as he came to the waterfall, but he didn't slow down for an instant. He sprinted deftly across the fallen tree trunk that bridged the gap across the river which flowed from the waterfall, and continued into the bushes on the other side. The hollow sound of pawfalls on wood told him that Spyro was hard on his tail. At last the cheetah burst out of the bushes and set his eyes upon his village. From afar it appeared still and peaceful, bathed in the midnight light of the moons, but Hunter knew otherwise.

The first thing he noticed upon hurrying up the path towards the entrance of the village was that there were two guards on duty. Usually, at these early hours of the morning, the village occupants were asleep. Only during the war had guards been stationed all through the night. A growing sense of dread was blooming in Hunter's gut as he approached the guards.

"Halt!" called one of them strongly, though there was a noticeable quiver in his voice, "Who goes there?"

Hunter raised his hands as two spears were pointed threateningly at his chest. He was still breathing heavily from the run and his bow was clutched tightly in his trembling paw. Spyro hadn't caught up yet.

"Stand down guards, it is I, Hunter," he spoke clearly and slowly the spears were lowered away from him.

"Captain Hunter, sir," said one of the guards breathlessly, "Thank the spirits. We thought for a moment…"

The guard broke off, shaking his head roughly, and Hunter's grip on his bow tightened.

"Where is Prowlus?" he asked, dreading the answer.

The guards stepped to the side, pointing their weapons towards one of the far huts – the chief's hut.

"In there, sir, he's -," but the guard broke off, his eyes staring into the darkness behind Hunter.

Suddenly he gave a great yell and brandished his spear. Hunter spun on his heel, alarmed.

"Halt! Stay right there, whatever you are!" the guards yelled as a large shadow approached from behind. The figure froze and the guard hissed, "Wh-who are you?"

Slowly the figure took a step into a small patch of moonlight and the guards saw it for what it was. Hunter let out a sigh of relief as Spyro stared in confusion at the guards and the spears that were being brandished towards him. The two guards blinked in bewilderment at the purple dragon.

"Wh-what's going on?" Spyro asked hesitantly, staring at the cheetahs.

One of the guards sighed and raised his spear back to his side, "Forgive us, Master Spyro, we were not aware that it was you."

The purple dragon had long become used to being called 'master', "That's fine; you were just doing your job. Hunter?"

"Come," Hunter said quickly, beckoning to Spyro, "Prowlus is through here."

The guards parted to let them through and they strode into the village towards the chief's hut. Spyro saw to his surprise that most of the village occupants appeared to be awake and lively. They sat around in small groups, chatting in hushed, anxious voices and shooting glances at the chief's hut. Hunter, too, was surprised. It was not normal for the village to be awake in the early hours of the morning, before the sun had yet to rise. Several eyes turned to watch him and Spyro as they made their way through the village.

Another guard stood at the entrance to Prowlus's hut, spear in hand and a solemn expression on his face. He nodded respectfully as Hunter approached and stepped away from the reed mat that obscured the entrance to the hut.

"It is good to see you return, Captain Hunter," said the guard, who appeared to be much older than the two younger guards at the entrance to the village. Unlike them, he wasn't trembling or jumping at small shadows, "Please, go through."

Nodding thankfully, Hunter reached a paw to brush the reed mat aside. He dreaded what he would find inside. A corpse? A grievously wounded Prowlus on his death bed? Or maybe it was even a trap. The golden-furred cheetah had to stifle the urge to reach for an arrow from his quiver. But his paw hovered near the hilt of the dagger concealed in his tunic as he brushed the mat aside.

The inside of the hut was dark, but two torches on the far wall lit the small room in a golden-orange glow. Hunter let the mat fall back into place behind him as he and Spyro stepped into the hut. His eyes took in the scene laid out before him in seconds and a feeling of relief warmed his veins. There were three cheetahs in the room and, when Hunter and Spyro entered, all eyes turned on them.

"I see you've returned, Hunter," Prowlus said, considering his captain with golden eyes, "And in good time, too."

Hunter dropped respectfully to one knee, though part of the reason for that action was his own exhaustion, "Prowlus! You're alive! I had thought…"

"Yes, forgive us for the vagueness of the note. We were a little flustered," it wasn't Prowlus who replied this time, but the cat on his left – a blue-furred feline with a necklace of feathers around his neck. This was Forage, one of Prowlus's assistants and advisors.

"You _did_ get our hawk, didn't you?" asked the other cat, the one that had yet to speak. His fur was golden and lacked any sign of spots or stripes, unlike Prowlus and Hunter. He was better known as Cougar and was one of the village's finest warriors – second only to Hunter himself.

"I did," Hunter replied, standing up slowly and brushing his cloak off, "That was why I returned here with utmost haste. Prowlus, sir, the note stated you had been attacked by…an assassin?"

The chief grunted, his furry brow furrowing, "Yes, that is true…"

Forage squinted into the darkness at the shorter figure beside Hunter, "Who did you bring with you, Hunter?"

Spyro, who had been standing there feeling a little awkward, finally stepped forwards into the firelight. The three cats in the room looked vaguely surprised to see him.

"Uh, it's me," the purple dragon mumbled lamely, "I insisted on coming too, Chief Prowlus."

"The purple dragon," Cougar muttered, eyes wide. Prowlus waved him away.

"Well, Spyro, I daresay this was a little setback in your festivity plans?" the chief asked wryly, without a hint of amusement on his face.

Spyro eyes hardened, "The festival was almost over. And besides, the health of one of our closest allies is far more important than any festival."

Prowlus considered him for a moment, "I thank you for your concern, Spyro. You know you are welcome in my village."

"Thankyou, Prowlus," the purple dragon replied, a little stiffly.

But any more useless banter was quickly silenced by Hunter, who was growing impatient about the lack of explanations. He'd rushed all the way here from Warfang in the fear that his chief had been assassinated, but here Prowlus was – looking as alive as ever. So what had happened?

"With all due respect, chief Prowlus, I need to know what has happened here," Hunter growled, leaning a hand on the small table in the centre of the hut. Prowlus was sitting on the opposite side of the table, in a wooden thrown dressed with deerskins, Forage and Cougar standing either side of him.

The chief scowled, "You read the note did you not? An assassin broke his way in here only a few hours ago and proceeded to do away with me with this."

Leaning forwards, Prowlus pulled a dagger from within the folds of his cloak and slammed it point first into the table. Everyone else in the room jumped at the sudden action and Hunter quickly withdrew his paw from the table. A silence passed as he observed the dagger. It was about the same size as his own dagger, but with a blade that curved like a snake. A thin, poisonous green line snaked down the centre of the blade. The hilt was plain and wrapped in black leather.

Hunter scowled, "an assassin's blade. It looks poisoned."

"It is," Prowlus replied gruffly as the blade glinted in the firelight, "that green line down the centre is a dead giveaway. I was lucky not to have been struck or I may already be dead."

Spyro glanced at the cheetah chief, "What happened?"

Prowlus paused briefly and then answered, "My senses are far too sharp for any creature to sneak up on me whilst I sleep. I heard the beast the instant he set foot in my hut. Naturally, I believed him to be Forage here – he seems to make a habit of visiting me at the oddest of times. However, when I opened my mouth to speak, the figure lunged at me. I managed to avoid him and cried out for the guards. Instantly the figure fled, dropping this dagger, and escaping from the hut just as Cougar arrived."

All eyes turned to Cougar and Hunted asked, "Well, what of the assassin? Did you catch a glimpse of him?"

Cougar nodded, "As he left, sir. I saw him in the moonlight before he disappeared like a shadow."

"And?"

Cougar hesitated, "He…he was built just like us, sir. He looked just like a cheetah."

Spyro paled and Hunter swayed on his feet, eyes suddenly widening in the firelight.

"Do you mean to say," Hunter asked hoarsely, "that we are dealing with a mutiny? The perpetrator was one of our own?"

Cougar and Forage exchanged a glance and the blue-furred cat was the one to answer.

"No, sir," Forage replied gravely, "We do not believe so."

Hunter raised an eyebrow, "How can you be sure of that?"

"Sir, his fur was black."

Tongues of vibrant flame licked hungrily at the wood and tinder that Hunter provided it with. In return it granted the cheetah and his dragon companion light in the dark hours of night. They sat together outside Prowlus's hut, on the sandy ground around a small campfire. They had a view of the rest of the village. Some of the inhabitants had fallen asleep around similar campfires, but many still sat rigid, the firelight reflecting from their open eyes.

"Why won't they sleep?" Spyro asked Hunter, watching the occupants of the cheetah village as they tended to their fires.

"They're afraid," was Hunter's answer, "There have been no hostilities since the incident with that young oracle dragon and the grublins, yet now our chief has been targeted by an unknown enemy. We cannot explain who or why this is happening and, for that reason, they are afraid. They will not sleep."

His eyes full of worry, Spyro let his head rest upon his paws and stared into the flames of the campfire. He felt tired, but sleep did not tempt him. For the moment sleep seemed trivial – almost foolish. No, he would not sleep. A strange metallic scrapping sound reminded him that Hunter was sharpening his arrow heads with a small stone.

_Schiiick._

_Schiiick._

_Schiiick._

With a sigh, the purple dragon turned his head towards the noise.

"I'm not sure I understand, Hunter," Spyro murmured, frowning, "They say the assassin had black fur? I've never seen or even heard of a cheetah with black fur before."

Hunter ceased sharpening his arrows for a moment, "Panthers."

Spyro blinked, "What?"

Setting the stone and his quiver of arrows aside, the cheetah folded his paws in his lap, "They're called panthers, Spyro – black cats. But I am afraid I do not understand either."

A frown graced Hunter face as his eyes turned to the moons, "No panther has been seen in these parts for almost a thousand years."

"Why would they return now?" Spyro asked quizzically, frowning.

"I am afraid I do not know," the cheetah sighed and looked back at the fire, "That is what I do not understand. Where have they come from? Why have they returned? And why have they targeted our chief? After so many years…some of us had almost believed they no longer existed."

"It is…troubling," Hunter picked up the rest of his arrows, returning them to his quiver. Spyro stared straight through him, his eyes glazed over in troubled thought.

The guard outside the chief's hut remained stoic and unmoving. Cougar and Forage refused to leave the hut. Perhaps they expected a second attempt at assassination. But with most of the village awake and the guards on tense patrol, that seemed unlikely. Spyro wondered briefly what was happening back at Warfang. Did the guardians know?

"We should rest," Hunter suggested suddenly, glancing towards the dark sky, "The sun shall rise soon, but we should get a few hours of sleep. Perhaps it will help us to think better when the morning comes."

Though reluctant, his head full of worrisome thoughts, Spyro agreed.

"Perhaps the guardians will arrive tomorrow," he murmured, almost to reassure himself as he let his eyes droop shut. Hunter did not reply.

The fire burned low as the cheetah and the dragon drifted off into restless sleep. Without Cynder by his side, Spyro dreamed.

Pale moonlight bathed the cheetah village in a blanket of molten silver. Spyro strode alone through the unguarded entrance, confidence in his stride as he entered the dark village. Shadows moved in the night, conjured by the light of the celestial moons. The purple dragon was looking for someone.

A figure stood at the entrance to the chief's hut, his back to Spyro. Was it Hunter? Yes, that seemed likely. The cloak, illuminated by the moon, gave that away. But the hood was pulled up, concealing the back of his head and ears. The village was eerily quiet as Spyro approached. His footsteps sounded hollow in the silence.

"You came."

Spyro came to a stop only a few steps away from the tall figure, who had spoken. Hunter's voice.

"I did," he replied.

The figure turned around and for a moment his face was cloaked in shadow. A gust of wind blew the hood from his head and moonlight illuminated his features. His black fur shifted gently in the breeze as a white-fanged grin twisted his face. Spyro looked on emotionlessly, observing the figure.

The panther's eyes were strange. They lacked iris and pupil and were merely pools of glowing white – a stark contrast to the black of his fur and the dark of the night. As he met those glowing eyes, Spyro felt he should be afraid. But it was not fear that he felt. What was this feeling, this strange emotion?

"It has been done. The chief is dead," the panther's pupil-less eyes seemed to flash.

Triumph.

Spyro allowed himself a cold smirk, but he was not quite satisfied. Why?

"And what of the village?" he asked solemnly.

The panther raised an arm and pointed a silvery claw over Spyro's shoulder, "See for yourself."

Fire reflected in Spyro's eyes as he turned and beheld the scene. The village was burning. Hot flames burned high into the sky, sending sparkling embers flying like fireflies. The fires crackled loudly as the buildings slowly crumbled to ashes. Spyro could feel the heat from where he stood. Somehow, the sight pleased him.

"I trust you are pleased, Master?"

Spyro glanced back at the panther and saw that the hut behind them was also burning. How could he not have noticed before?

"I am."

The purple dragon turned from the fires and made his way up the hill towards the well where the cheetahs had once gathered their water. It was cracked and broken, the bucket lying splintered a few feet away. A body lay on the opposite side of the well, but Spyro gave it no notice. He stared only at the puddle of water that had spilled across the ground. The flames from the village flickered across its surface – gold, orange, red.

Slowly, Spyro strode over to the water. He gazed into the puddle and his reflection gazed back at him – a triumphant grin on its cruel features. White eyes stared back at him, as empty and bright as the panther's had been. Shadows had turned his purple scales black.

"We have done as you asked, oh Dark Master."

A vivid grin crossed the face of Spyro's reflection and his white eyes flashed in triumph.

A guttural roar tore the silence of the cheetah village to shreds, reverberating in the ears of the cheetahs as they woke from their slumber in throws of panic. Spyro lashed out, his tail scattering the embers that remained of the campfire, his mouth open in a fierce scream of anger and fear. Hunter scrambled away from the dragon, his heart thundering like a stampede of deer, narrowly avoiding Spyro claws as he lashed out at anything and everything.

The purple dragon's eyes burned white and spittle flew from his jaws as he screamed and roared to the sky, tail lashing dangerously. It was as though a shadow had passed over his scales. He looked as dark as the night itself. Fear pierced Hunter's heart.

"Spyro! Spyro!" the cheetah yelled, while the rest of the village looked on in horror, "Spyro, snap out of it!"

Quite suddenly, the guttural roar died away into silence and Spyro hesitantly closed his jaws. He blinked, looking confused and shaken, his sides rising and falling rapidly with each shallow breath. His breathing slowed and he looked around, his violet eyes drinking in the sight of the cheetah village. It was morning. Hunter watched him anxiously.

"Is…everything alright?" he asked hesitantly.

Spyro swallowed, still looking severely shaken, "Y-yes…just a…bad dream. A bad dream…nothing more."

Hunter slowly let his guard down and moved to sit back down next to the trembling purple dragon, "Must have been some dream. You woke us all up with your scream. Are you…feeling alright?"

Spyro stared at his paws, taking deep breaths as he tried to forget the images that had somehow become burned into his memory. The cheetah village burning; the white-eyed panther; his own image in the reflection of the water. He shuddered.

"I'm fine. It was just a nightmare. Sorry about that," the purple dragon apologised sheepishly. He elaborated no further.

Hunter frowned, "well…if you say so."

The rest of the inhabitants of the village had turned away, but Hunter kept a close eye on the purple dragon. Whatever excuses Spyro told him, the cheetah knew that something strange had happened in that moment. He couldn't forget that image; of a wild beast roaring its anger to the world. For a moment he knew he had not been seeing Spyro, but rather an apparition with shadowy black scales and fierce white eyes.

"Everything okay out here?" Forage had poked his head out of the chief's hut, turning quizzical green eyes on Hunter and Spyro, "We heard a roar."

Hunter glanced back at the blue-furred cat, "Everything is fine, Forage. Just a little…misunderstanding."

Spyro looked embarrassed. Nodding respectfully, Forage pulled his head back into the hut, letting the reed mat fall back to cover the doorway. But, seconds later, he strode out again with Prowlus and Cougar on his heels. As Prowlus strode out of his hut, Hunter noticed an alarming tear in the side of his tunic – the only proof of how close he had come to death the previous night. The very thought sent shivers down Hunter's spine.

The chieftain turned to his captain with solemn gold eyes, "I hope you're well rested, Hunter. There's a lot that needs to be discussed today."

The cheetah warrior nodded slowly, "Yes, Chief Prowlus, but perhaps we should wait. Spyro and I are under the impression that the Guardians from Warfang should be arriving. We left a messenger to tell them the news last night."

Prowlus seemed vaguely surprised, "The dragons? Hmph, perhaps their assistance may be helpful. Cougar!"

The smooth-furred cat quickly jumped to attention, "Sir!"

"Appoint a lookout to await the dragons' arrival."

"Sir."

As Cougar moved to carry out his chief's orders, he passed by Spyro. The purple dragon had yet to be introduced to this particular cat and he watched him pass with interest. In the light of the sun, Cougar's physique could be seen much clearer. His fur was smooth and golden, a handsome colour, and there were sizeable muscles showing beneath. He stood a little shorter than Hunter, much stockier than the cheetah's lean build.

Sensing Spyro's gaze on him, Cougar turned to glance at the purple dragon and gave a friendly wink. Spyro noticed his eyes were as deep blue as the ocean. He responded with a grin just before Cougar turned away and resolved to get to know the big cat better.

"What now, chief Prowlus?" Forage asked curiously.

The chief folded his arms, "We wait."

Seemingly satisfied, Forage sat down cross-legged between Hunter and Spyro. Prowlus, however, remained standing as though it was not proper for a chief to sit in the dirt. Turning his eyes on the chief's advisor, Spyro observed the blue cat known as Forage. His fur was a dusky blue in the morning light and he wore a pale tan tunic that matched the furry armguards around his wrists. Unlike Cougar, Forage was a very lean and sleek feline – even Hunter was stockier than he was. From the bottom of his chin down to where his tunic covered his chest, Forage's fur was brilliant white – as were the tufts of fur that sprung from his perked ears.

But by far the most interesting thing about Forage was the necklace he wore. Feathers hung from a metal ring – feathers of all different colours and patterns. The white centre feather, Spyro noticed, was far larger than the others. Briefly the purple dragon wondered what sort of bird it belonged to. There were also feathers around his wrists.

"Interesting in my necklace, are you?" the blue feline asked suddenly, smiling kindly at the purple dragon.

Embarrassed at being caught staring, Spyro attempted to stutter an excuse, "I…I was just…"

Forage chuckled, "No need to be embarrassed, my boy. 'Tis a peculiar object I wear, after all. Why feathers? You see, this necklace was a gift from my father, who received from his father, who received it from his father and…so on and so forth."

Spyro was distinctly reminded of Cyril, though Forage didn't seem quite so pompous.

"The feathers," Forage said, reaching a paw up to touch his necklace, "represent every bird that has ever assisted my family. This feather -," here he touched the middle feather, the largest, "– belonged to a very majestic bird, known as an eagle. This eagle was my father's closest friend. He was an intelligent and handsome creature and he gave my father one of his feathers as a gift. I'm not sure whatever happened to that eagle. They say he left the village after my father died and was never seen again."

Smiling wistfully, Forage gazed upwards towards the pale blue sky. A question formed in Spyro's mind and left his lips before he had a chance to consider it.

"What was his name?" a second later, Spyro could have slapped himself. Did eagles even have names?

Forage glanced at him, "The eagle? My father called him Ifrion."

"Oh," Spyro didn't know what else to say. He'd never seen an eagle before.

"I have my own feathered companion, of course," Forage continued with a whiskery smile, "Her name is Gloria. I don't suppose you'd like to meet her?"

Spyro eyes widened, "I would!"

But as Forage moved to stand up, Cougar suddenly appeared beside him and slung a muscled arm around his shoulders. Off-balance, the blue-furred cat feel back into a sitting position as Cougar knelt beside him.

The golden feline grinned, "Talking bird-talk again, are we? Come on, Forage, is that all you ever talk about?"

Ignoring Forage's indignant spluttering, Cougar turned his attention to Spyro. Grinning, he held out a paw to the purple dragon. Spyro noticed the fur on the underside of his paw was white.

"Spyro! – It is Spyro right? I don't believe we were introduced last night! The name's Cougar – Prowlus's personal bodyguard and Captain Hunter's second-in-command." Cougar grinned toothily, revealed sparkling white fangs.

A little stunned, Spyro hesitantly placed one of his forepaws on Cougar's by way of greeting. The first impression he gathered was that Cougar liked to boast a lot. He seemed a confident and friendly sort.

"Spyro the dragon," Spyro introduced himself, and then decided to add on a whim, "Legendary purple dragon and saviour of the world."

Cougar wasn't the only one who could boast. The golden-furred cat threw his head back and gave a short barking laugh. He winked at Spyro.

"That's what I get for boasting, eh? Legendary purple dragon…well, I don't doubt that you are, Spyro," Cougar turned a glance on Forage, "So, what were you doing before I interrupted?"

Forage sighed and shook his head slowly, "I was just about to introduce Spyro to Gloria."

Cougar sat back, resting his paws on the ground, "Well, don't let me stop you."

He turned his head slightly and yelled, "Look-outs at their posts now, chief!"

"Thankyou, Cougar," Prowlus replied, a little stiffly. He was still standing with his arms crossed, looking as solemn as usual. Spyro supposed the attempted assassination hadn't helped his temper.

But the purple dragon's attention quickly shifted elsewhere as Forage gave a sharp whistle. The blue feline had stood up and was looking towards the sky. Spyro looked too, but it appeared to be empty – no sign of a bird. Then, suddenly, a shrill call answered Forage's whistle and a swift blur of grey and white shot across the sky. Spyro stared as the creature turned a graceful half circle and landed on Forage's outstretched arm.

"This is Gloria, Spyro."

Gloria was a falcon with a smooth grey back and wings, and a snowy white chest. She had sharp brown eyes that were as alarming as they were soothing. Her silky feathers seemed to shine in the morning light. As the majestic bird turned her head towards Spyro, the purple dragon almost held his breath. Her eyes met his own, pools of rich brown, and for a moment it felt as though she was staring into his very soul. A warm shiver ran down his spine.

Forage smiled at the beautiful bird, "Gloria, I would like you to meet Spyro, the legendary purple dragon."

Gloria ruffled her feathers and nodded regally at Spyro, much to his surprise. It didn't seem as though she had the gift of speech. He bowed his head to her as well.

"It is a pleasure, Gloria."

With a satisfied trill, the grey falcon sprang off Forage's arm and soared into the sky. She turned a graceful circle over their heads before winging away towards the distant trees. Spyro watched her go.

"She doesn't stick around much," Forage told him, sitting down again.

Looking backwards and forwards between the three felines – Hunter, Forage and Cougar – Spyro felt another question on his tongue. He wondered whether it might be offensive, so he spoke it carefully.

"I wonder if you could tell me…" Spyro hesitated, looking from Hunter to Forage, "How old are the three of you?"

Hunter smiled, "Forage and I were both born twenty-one years ago, within days of each other. We're about ten years younger than Prowlus."

Forage chuckled, "That's true. And Cougar here is the baby amongst us."

The stocky golden feline feigned offense, "Baby! I'll have you know I'm not that much younger than you, Forage!"

Spyro blinked. Cougar grinned and winked at him, "I was born two years after these grizzled old cats."

"Grizzled! Old!" Forage looked shocked, and then added with a grin, "Guess that makes you an ignorant cub."

Ignoring the bickering felines, Spyro considered Hunter for a few moments. He had expected the cheetah to be older than he claimed. Perhaps it was the way he acted with wisdom far beyond his years. Was that what war had done to him? Had he adapted to become the solemn warrior he was today to survive his war-torn world? For a moment the purple dragon almost felt sorry for him.

'_It made me who I am today and I may not even be alive with out._'

Spyro wondered if his own training would turn him into a battle-hardened warrior – a warrior forced to act as an adult far beyond his years. The thought left him feeling a little worried of what the future would bring. And a little cheated.

"Everything alright, Spyro?" Hunter asked, bringing the purple dragon out of his stupor.

The purple dragon supposed his thoughts had been showing through his expression, "Fine, Hunter, just thinking."

"Chief Prowlus! Dragons approaching!" a young cat called suddenly, and everyone turned in response.

Spyro stared into the morning sky and saw that there were several dark shapes heading towards the village. The four larger ones had to be the guardians, but who were the others? Spyro was just trying to figure it out, when something glowing and yellow obscured his vision. The purple dragon blinked and stepped back.

"Spyro! Buddy!" Sparx spread his arms, "We came as fast as we could! You ok?"

"Sparx! I wasn't expecting you," Spyro smiled at his surrogate brother, who was thankfully no longer wearing that ridiculous armour. It was then that Spyro remembered his own armour, which he had taken off the night before sometime during the run through the Forbidden Passage. It had been slowing him down, so he had ditched it. He supposed it was still there somewhere.

"What, you expected me not to come and see if my old buddy Spyro hadn't run into any trouble?" Sparx crossed his arms, smirking, "I've always got your back."

"Spyro!" another voice called, much to Spyro's surprise, as a black dragoness touched down in front of him.

Sparx quickly hovered out of the way as Cynder moved to nuzzle heads with the purple dragon. He gave a contented sigh as she rubbed her cheek comfortingly against his. Sitting back, Cynder looked him over with an anxious eye. Upon deciding that he was unhurt, she proceeded to tell him off.

"I can't believe you just left like that, Spyro! You could have at least told me! I was worried sick about you!" she glared at him, her emerald eyes sharp, "Instead you just left Zannak with a message. You should have seen how panicked he was! He seemed to think that the whole cheetah village had been annihilated. Next time, don't be so rash!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Spyro stuttered hopelessly, "But it all happened so fast! I didn't know what to do!"

"Come find us!" Cynder said, exasperated, "Maybe we could have helped! Don't just run off! You have no idea what sort of danger you could have been in, rushing here like that!"

"Cynder is right, young dragon," Terrador said gravely, as he and the other dragons landed in the village, "What you did was very rash. A warrior must never lose his head in a crisis."

Spyro exchanged a helpless glance with Hunter, who was also looking suitably abashed. The cheetah bowed respectfully to the guardians.

"Forgive me, Master Terrador," he murmured, "It was my fault. I panicked and lost the ability to think rationally. Unfortunately, I dragged Spyro into this. I give you my apologies, good Guardians, for worrying you."

"That's quite alright, Hunter," Thasos spoke this time, looking less stern than Terrador, "I think you acted in the way any of us would. It may have been rash, but we should be thankful that nothing bad has come out of it. Isn't that right, Terrador?"

The earth guardian nodded stiffly. Spyro noticed that the other dragon with them was Seriphos, as he should have expected. Cynder was still glaring sternly at him. Clearly she had not forgiven him for running off without her last night. Spyro glanced sheepishly at Sparx, who gave an unhelpful shrug.

"So you have come, guardians," Prowlus spoke up, nodding respectfully.

Terrador bowed to the chieftain of the village, "Forgive us for not arriving sooner. We chose to wait until first light before we came. We were under the impression that you had been attacked by an assassin. Would you mind telling us what occurred last night?"

Prowlus huffed, "Whatever rumours you heard of my death were obviously false and caused by Forage's unexplanatory note."

He glanced sternly at the blue-furred feline, who quickly apologised for his mistake. Waving him away, Prowlus led the guardians into the centre of the village. Seriphos and Hunter went with them, but Spyro had already heard the story and decided not to follow. Cynder and Sparx stayed by his side. The black dragoness glanced sidelong at him.

"So, what happened?" she asked, still sounding a little snappish. Spyro hoped she'd forgive him soon.

With a sigh, the purple dragon explained what he'd heard last night to Cynder and Sparx. A little way away, Prowlus was doing the same for the guardians. When he was done explaining, Spyro fell silent and waited for their reactions. Cynder frowned.

"A panther?" she muttered, raising a scaly eyebrow.

"That's what Hunter called them."

"Black cheetahs," Sparx mumbled, "Creepy."

"But why would they attack this place?" Cynder wondered aloud, "Why would they target Prowlus?"

Spyro's eyes narrowed, "That's what I want to know."

Seriphos went to fetch the purple dragon and the black dragoness about half an hour later, after a lot of explaining and brainstorming. Spyro and Cynder had taken to sitting down, their heads full of unanswered questions, while Sparx flitted impatiently above their heads. Spyro looked up as the earth dragon approached.

"The guardians are trying to come to decision," Seriphos told them, beckoning with a pale wing, "Come. We need your opinions."

Spyro and Cynder exchanged a curious glance and stood up. They had to wonder what sort of decision the guardians were considering. Sparx hovered after them, looking pleased about something.

"Finally!" he said, "My opinion means something!"

The group found the guardians sitting around a very disgruntled Prowlus. Hunter, Cougar and Forage stood to the side, looking anxious. As Seriphos led the young trio towards them, the guardians turned to face them.

"Ah, Spyro, Cynder, good," Cyril said, beckoning for them to sit down, "We may need your opinions for this one."

"What is it?" Spyro asked, sitting down beside the ice guardian.

Terrador answered, "We know next to nothing about this creature that attacked Prowlus. All we know is that it is a panther – a species that has not been heard of for many hundreds of years. Without knowledge of our enemy or why they're attacking, there is little we can do to create a defence. However, we fear that the attacker may return to try another assassination attempt on Prowlus. Do you have any suggestions, Spyro?"

The purple dragon only had to think for a moments. He stared straight at the cheetah chieftain and announced, "Bring him back to Warfang."

Prowlus looked aghast, "What! You want to hold me prisoner in your city?"

Spyro scowled, "No, we want to protect you! There is no place better protected than Warfang! You'll be far safer there than you will be here!"

"That is a good idea, Spyro," Thasos agreed thoughtfully.

"Indeed it is," Volteer added, beaming, "Our young dragon has a wise head on his shoulders!"

But Prowlus was not pleased, "I will not flee from my village like a coward and leave my cheetahs to suffer at the hands of my attackers! What if they were to return! I must be here to protect my village!"

"It's not the village they're after!" Cynder argued, eyes flashing as she backed Spyro up, "It's you, Prowlus!"

"Cynder's right!" Spyro added, "The assassin was after you, not anybody else! Just think about it! If you leave the village, they'll likely be in less danger than if you stay! This is for your own good and for your village as well!"

Gritting his teeth and unable to come up with a retort, Prowlus simply looked away. Spyro found himself becoming annoyed at the chieftain's stubbornness. In a way it reminded him of Sparx.

"I refuse to leave my village," Prowlus growled, "I will not run and hide like a coward."

Luckily for the dragons, Hunter and the other two cats intervened. If anyone could talk sense into their stubborn chief, it was them.

"Listen to me, Prowlus," Hunter said, kneeling down beside his chief, "This is not a cowardly act. This is a _wise _act. You'll be no help to anyone if the assassin returns and succeeds in his mission to kill you. It would be best for you to go to Warfang, at least until we figure out where the assassin came from and why. Trust me, Prowlus; this is the best option for all of us."

"We'll go with you," Forage said suddenly, "to Warfang. Won't we, Cougar?"

The golden-furred cat nodded, "Right. And Hunter can stay here to guard the village."

Hunter agreed wordlessly. Prowlus gazed at each of them, his face still set stubbornly. But at last he heaved a reluctant sigh and relented.

"It seems I am outvoted," he sighed, "Very well, I shall return with you to Warfang. But only until we decide what is to be done about these panthers!"

Spyro looked relieved, "That's all we ask."

The chief stood up, "It seems I have some preparations to make."

**A/N: So, who thought Prowlus was dead at the end of last chapter?** **:P** **I wouldn't kill him off that easily. Oh look, more unplanned OCs! Where do I get these from? Well, at least they're not dragons this time. I rushed to get this chapter out because I'm going away tomorrow! For sixteen days! And I won't have a computer. You know what that means? No writing. So you're all going to have to wait a while until I post the next chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Are things getting interesting yet? Thanks to all my reviewers! ^^ And thanks for reading! Ta-ta for now!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Been awhile, eh mates? When was the last time I updated? Like...over a month ago. :B Don't worry, I still love you. So here's the next chapter. Forgive me for how boring this story has started off as, but after reading through ToaO looking for errors, I realised it was exactly the same. So yeah...things will heat up eventually. Until then, enjoy the random fight scene I throw in every now and then. :3 Oh yeah, there's a few things I need to say, but I'll save that till the end of the chapter. See you down there!**

**6.**

As Prowlus disappeared into his hut, Hunter found his thoughts drifting to those cheetahs he had left behind in Warfang. With all the excitement of the previous night, he had almost forgotten Meadow and the other cheetahs. Where were they now, he wondered? Still in the dragon city? No doubt they had heard the news and were worried.

"What of Meadow and the others?" Hunter finally posed the question to the one dragon who didn't seem to be doing anything – Seriphos, "Are they still in the city?"

Seriphos, who had been staring thoughtfully at the cloudy sky, jumped when he was addressed. Unlike the guardians, who were discussing things quietly amongst themselves, and Spyro who was whispering softly to Cynder and Sparx, Seriphos hadn't joined in any conversation. He glanced at Hunter.

"Meadow? Oh, yes, he and the other cheetahs left Warfang just as we did," the earth dragon explained as he recalled, "They went through the Forbidden Passage."

"Ah," Hunter rested his chin on his hand thoughtfully, "They should reach here by midday, then."

The whispers next to them suddenly stopped.

"We should be leaving for Warfang in just a few moments," Spyro said as he raised his head, "If they're not going to get here until midday, they'll miss us. Perhaps you should send Meadow a message?"

Hunter stood up, "That's a good idea, Spyro."

The cheetah raised his arm to the sky and whistled sharply. Spyro was surprised at how quickly the hawk responded to the call as it alighted on Hunter's armguard. The handsome, yellow-eyed bird gazed expectantly at the cheetah, awaiting instruction.

"Go to Meadow," Hunter told it, "Tell him that Prowlus is well and that he is heading for Warfang. I shall be waiting here for him at the village. Go now."

The hawk replied with a nod of its glossy head and sprang from Hunter's arm. With several strong flaps, the bird soared into the skies where rain clouds were gathering. Sensing the coming rain, Hunter gazed apprehensively at the threatening clouds.

"So you're not coming back to Warfang with us?" Spyro's voice brought Hunter's attention away from the skies.

The cheetah shook his spotted head, "No. Someone must stay here to keep the village in order and to protect the villagers if there is another attack."

Cynder frowned, "But if Prowlus isn't here, surely the assassins won't attack again?"

"True, but they do not know that," Hunter replied gravely, "If they return to find our chief gone, who knows what they will do? And we have no idea of their motives. Why are they targeting our chief? And why now of all times, a thousand years after their disappearance from Avalar? There are too many unanswered questions for me to leave this village unguarded. Perhaps if I remain here, some answers will reveal themselves. Until then, I will trust you to keep Prowlus safe. A chief is important to his tribe. Without him, we may crumble and fall into disarray. Perhaps that is what the panthers desire."

Grim as those words were, Spyro couldn't help but agree with them. He nodded in understanding, despite his growing anxiety.

"We'll do our best to protect your chief," the purple dragon promised as he gazed anxiously up unto Hunter's aqua eyes, "Be careful, Hunter. If anything happens, send word as swiftly as possible. These panthers sound like bad news."

"And I doubt your tribe could afford to lose you any more than Prowlus," Cynder muttered wryly.

A grateful smile touched the cheetah's face, "Your concern is touching. Don't worry, young dragons, we'll sort out this mess."

At that moment, the reed mat covering the door to the chief's hut was pushed aside and Prowlus strode back into their midst. The cheetah chief was looking as disgruntled as ever, his arms crossed in a disapproving manner. A thick woven bag hung against his back, held by a strap that stretched diagonally across his chest. Looking a little flustered, Forage staggered out of the hut too, with two spears and a reed bag spilling out of his arms.

"Where's Cougar?" Prowlus snapped, snatching the spear that Forage clumsily offered to him.

"Right here, chief," the stocky feline answered, pocking his head out of a nearby hut. He came out hefting a javelin larger than any Spyro had ever laid eyes on. The staff was about as thick as Hunter's arm and the spear head, with its array of jagged barbs, looked frankly lethal. Spyro didn't fancy being on the receiving end of that weapon.

Cougar propped the javelin up on his shoulder, "Ready to go, sir."

"Good," the grumpy chief turned his eyes on the four guardians, "Might as well leave now. No doubt you'll want to get back to your city as soon as possible."

"That would be preferable, "Cyril replied, a little tetchily. It was plain to see that he was not fond of the cheetah chief.

Prowlus snorted, "Fine. Seems I've got no choice anyway. This mess had better be sorted out soon!"

"We'll do our best," Spyro assured him, but Prowlus didn't seem impressed.

He turned instead to his captain, "Hunter, I'm trusting you to keep my village safe. You're a strong warrior – I wouldn't leave you in charge if I didn't know that for a fact."

Hunter nodded respectfully, a sense of pride blooming in his chest, "Thank you, Prowlus, sir. I'll do all in my power to protect this village and everyone in it. Safe passage, chief Prowlus."

"I'll be back soon," Prowlus promised, and then added stubbornly, "whether you sort this mess out or not."

"That's a relief," Spyro heard Cyril mutter bitterly, "I wouldn't want him in my city for any more than a week!"

Sparx grinned in amusement. Luckily Prowlus didn't hear the ice guardian's words. His eyes fixed on Terrador.

"I believe flight should get us there faster," the earth guardian said, "And it would not be wise to remain out in the open for too long if there is danger afoot."

Forage and Cougar, who had never flown before, looked both awed and excited. But Prowlus merely shook his head and muttered, "Not again."

The skies opened up about halfway to Warfang. What started as a light drizzle soon turned into a drenching downpour that soaked anything unlucky enough to be caught out in the open. Sparx was forced to take shelter beneath Spyro's wing, lest his own wings become too waterlogged for him to fly. Prowlus sat stiffly upon Terrador's back, his fur plastered to his body, looking bitterer than ever.

At the dragon city, most of the inhabitants had taken shelter. But a small group stood outside despite the pouring rain. Flame paced backwards and forwards in the central courtyard, his scales dripping with water as his claws kicked up splashes from the puddling cobblestones. Zannak, Ciro, Ember, Saffron and Zephira stood with him. They shivered in the cold rain, their eyes trained on the skies. Kazan watched from afar, standing beneath shelter.

"I don't believe this," Flame was muttering, "Leaving the city like that…he could at least have taken us with him! Now we don't know _what's_ going on!"

Ember shook her wings, sending droplets flying, but the rain only soaked them again. She followed Flame with her eyes as he paced in front of her.

"It'll be alright," the pink dragoness promised, but didn't seem very sure of her words.

Flame ignored her, "The cheetah village could be destroyed for all we know!"

Saffron glanced anxiously at her brother, blinking raindrops from her eyes, "Zannak, can you remind us exactly what Spyro said to you?"

The golden dragon shook his head, "I-I can't remember exactly. He was panicking. Like…_really_ panicking. He said something about the cheetah village…it had been attacked. He told me to tell the guardians. I-I've never seen Spyro panic before. It has to be something bad. Really bad."

Zannak was trembling. Ciro glanced anxiously at his friend, "Maybe it's not as bad as we think. Maybe…"

But the blue dragon broke off, shaking his head. He too, was worried. His wing was wrapped tightly around his pale-scaled sister, who was trembling so badly she could hardly stand upright. Zephira pressed against her brother's side, seeking shelter from the freezing rain. She refused to seek shelter, despite the cold. If Ciro stayed, she stayed.

Flame gritted his teeth, "I can't believe he ran off without us! Without _me_! Argh!"

Angrily, the red dragon slashed his claws across the cobblestones and sent water flying. Rain poured into his eyes as he glared at the sky. The guardians had forbidden him to follow them, so now he stood and impatiently waited for their return. A year ago he would not have heeded their words, but Ember had gotten better at talking sense into him.

"Is that…?" Ciro asked suddenly, his bright green eyes staring into the grey sky.

Flame's eyes narrowed, "Yeah. It is."

He would have been pleased to see Spyro and the guardians return, had it not been for his anger at being left behind. As the drenched dragons circled in for a landing, the red dragon dashed towards them, yelling furiously.

"Spyro! What the heck is your problem, leaving us like that? You could have at least stayed and told us what was happening before you ran off on your own! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I know, Flame! I know!" Spyro called over the sound of the roaring rain, "I'm sorry! But things happened so fast, I didn't have time to find you guys!"

"Didn't have time!" Flame snarled, getting so close his muzzle was almost touching Spyro's, "You didn't think we might have been able to _help_?"

"You weren't there!" Spyro shot back, "I didn't know what was going on at the time; I just did what my head was telling me to do! And I would bet anything that you would have done the same, Flame!"

The red dragon hesitated. Scowling, he muttered, "Fine. But next time you leave me behind, I'm going to torch you. Trust me on that one."

Flame turned on his heel, still looking angry, and strode back to Ember. But he looked back over his shoulder briefly and muttered grudgingly, "I'm glad you're ok."

Spyro couldn't resist a weak smile. Terrador gazed at the group of young dragons that had been standing in the courtyard, waiting to greet them. He didn't look pleased.

"You young ones should not be out here in the rain," the earth guardian eyed Zephira's trembling form, "I suggest you find shelter and dry yourselves off, before you perish from the cold."

"Sorry, Master Terrador," Ember sighed, pressing closer to Flame, "But we were worried. Is everything alright at the cheetah village?"

Terrador opened his mouth to answer, but a disgruntled voice beat him to it, "My village is fine."

Prowlus had slipped off Terrador's back the instant the great green guardian had touched down. He was not fond at all of flying. Cougar, on the other hand, seemed to have enjoyed himself. The stocky feline helped a queasy Forage down off Volteer's back, grinning despite his drenched fur. His massive javelin was strapped diagonally to his back. The young dragons stared.

"Ch-chief Prowlus!" Ember stuttered, surprised, "I hadn't expected…"

"It wasn't my choice to come here," Prowlus muttered snappily, folding his arms, "I was forced into it by your guardians."

"But…why?"

The guardians didn't answer Ember's question. Instead Cyril merely muttered, "I think we should _all _get out of this rain. I, for one, do not enjoy it!"

"Yes," Volteer agreed, his spirit only slightly dampened, "We must find quarters for our guests!"

Flame, realising that he was not going to get any answers from the guardians, turned instead to Spyro. But he had barely voiced the question before the purple dragon was called away.

"Come, Spyro!" Terrador called, "I will trust you to show Prowlus to his room."

The purple dragon sighed, his wing still sheltering Sparx. He turned to glance at his friends and muttered in a low voice, "Meet me in the foyer of the Academy building in twenty minutes."

And with that he turned and scampered away, his paws flicking up water from the puddles that pooled in the cobblestone paths. Cynder followed him, leaving the others to seek shelter out of the rain.

"Guess we'll have to wait for answers," Zannak murmured, gazing after the purple dragon, "Come on; let's get to the Academy. At least it will be warmer."

Twenty minutes later, Spyro was making his way through the waterlogged streets towards the academy. He cantered quickly, eager to get out of the rain, Sparx keeping up with him under the shelter of his golden wing. Cynder ran silently beside him.

The Academy was in the northern area of the city. Having been rebuilt after being destroyed during the war, it now stole the title of 'tallest building in the city' from the Atrium. The large cylindrical building was akin to that of a great stone tree, as Spyro had thought on many an occasion. There was a balcony on each level that wrapped around the circular outside walls. And on each level were five different classrooms, except for the very top floor. The top floor was known to most young dragons as the 'lounge' because it was for lounging.

As Spyro and Cynder hurried into the warm and dry foyer on the bottom floor of the Academy, they found their friends waiting for them. Even Kazan had joined them and Spyro had a sneaking suspicion that Zannak and Ciro had dragged him here by the scruff of his neck. Flame, who had been lounging on the red carpet beside Ember, stood up upon the purple dragon's entrance.

"There you are. We were beginning to think you weren't coming," Flame smirked, before the grin dropped off his face, "So what's the deal?"

"Hang on," Spyro shook himself like a dog, sending droplets of water flying in every direction. Sparx buzzed quickly away, but Cynder was caught in the spray.

The black dragoness scowled, "I was wet enough already before you did that."

Spyro grinned apologetically and was forced to jump away when Cynder repaid the favour. Most of the spray missed him, but it left a large wet spot on the wooden floor that Spyro was sure the elders wouldn't be pleased about. The purple dragon shrugged and grinned at Cynder.

"Missed me," he taunted.

Flame's eyebrow twitched, "Quit mucking around! Tell us what happened, Spyro!"

"Alright, alright!" The purple dragon yelped, jumping as though he'd been stung.

"Keep your scales on," Sparx muttered, brushing droplets of water from his arms.

Spyro looked around the room. Zannak and Saffron stood side by side at the edge of the circular carpet in the centre of the room. Ember lay on the carpet, Flame standing beside her, while Kazan stood near the wall away from everyone else. Ciro was tapping his claws on the floor.

"Where's Zephira?" Spyro asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The blue dragon shrugged, "The guardians came by a few minutes ago. Said they needed to see her about something. I don't know what."

Cynder frowned, "That's strange. I wonder what…"

"Never mind that!" Flame snapped, annoyed by all the interruptions.

The purple dragon sighed, "Ok, Flame, no more interruptions. I'll tell you what happened."

"Good," the red dragon grumbled and sat back down.

It took Spyro only a few minutes to explain to the group what had occurred at the cheetah village. No one interrupted him, for which he was grateful, though Flame looked like he was itching to speak.

"So what do we do about these panthers?" the red dragon blurted out the instant Spyro stopped speaking.

The purple dragon frowned, thinking, "At the moment we know next to nothing about them. What I want to do is find out as much information as we can. That's what I want your help with. There's got to be something written about them and any bit of information is going to help. Maybe we can find out why they disappeared a thousand years ago…"

"You want us to go to the library," Zannak said, catching on.

Saffron hesitated, "The library is a big place. There are hundreds of books. How are we going to know where to look?"

"That's why I need your help," Spyro explained, "If we all look, it should take less time for us to find something. We can split up and each search different sections in the library."

"Book hunting," Flame sighed, resting his head on his paws, "How thrilling."

Cynder gave him an irritated glance, "I know it's not very exciting, but every bit of information helps! We just might find something!"

"So," Spyro glanced at everyone in turn, "Who's in?"

There was a silence as the group exchanged glances. Flame seemed to think the whole concept was utterly boring and Kazan didn't look entirely pleased either. But at last Saffron shrugged and answered for them all.

"Well, it's not like there's much else to do," she glanced out the window at the rain that was still coming down hard on the city, "We might as well check out the library."

"Better than sitting here and doing nothing," Ciro agreed wryly. There were nods of agreement from everyone else in the room.

Spyro breathed a sigh of relief, "Thanks, guys. I owe you one."

"You can fight me later," Flame grinned, standing up and stretching, "When it's not raining, that is."

Spyro grinned, "You're on."

The group of young dragons took the long way around to the library, keeping under sheltered walkways to avoid the pouring rain. Ciro's thoughts seemed to be elsewhere and Spyro supposed he was wondering about his sister. He too wondered what the guardians wanted with the little wind dragoness.

A pair of handsomely polished wooden doors met them at the entrance to the library. They crowded under the thin awning away from the rain as Cynder pushed the doors open. They hurried into the warm building, letting the heavy doors close on their own. As they stopped for a moment to take in the interior of the large building, Spyro noticed something. The library was a lot busier than it usually was.

"Guess everyone's sheltering from the rain," Flame said, having noticed it too.

The library was two stories tall, relatively short compared to most other buildings in the city. But it spanned a wide area that was even bigger than the massive flying grounds. The books were arranged on huge mahogany shelves, the tallest of which reached from floor to ceiling. The second story was more like a balcony than a floor. It stretched around the inside walls, was wide enough for five dragons to walk side by side upon, and was reachable by a magnificent marble staircase. There were bookshelves up there, too, against the walls.

"So where do we start?" Ember asked, gazing around the building.

"Anywhere, I guess," Spyro shrugged, 'We'll split up. I'll take the shelves over there."

He pointed with a claw towards the far left corner. Soon, after a few arguments between Kazan and Flame, everyone else had chosen their sections. Ember elected to ask the librarian – a green dragon who sat at his desk near the centre of the library, a quill clutched in his tail and several sheets of parchment littering his desk. The group split up, wishing each other good luck. The sheer amount of books was rather daunting to their eyes.

No one was really sure how long they spent searching for books in the library. Zannak became bored quickly and took to sneaking around after his sister, waiting for the right moment to jump out and surprise her. Ciro, on the other hand, found something far more interesting than a shelf of old dusty books.

The ice dragon had been searching through a shelf full of old dragon biographies when he spotted a green dragoness and her fire dragoness friend sitting together on a pile of green cushions. Ciro's book-finding mission was instantly driven from his mind. Standing up talk, he strode confidently over to the two dragonesses.

Nalu and her best friend had been quietly talking together when they spotted a blue dragon striding towards them. Nalu recognised him instantly and her cheeks took on a rosy shade of red.

"C-Ciro!" she yelped.

Ciro grinned, "I wasn't expecting to meet you here, Nalu."

The green dragoness blushed deeper, "W-well, it's such a miserable day outside and there's not much else to do…"

"Miserable?" Ciro feigned ignorance, "What's miserable about it?"

The red dragoness, Nalu's friend, snorted and replied, "It's pouring rain outside, bozo. Even someone as thick as you should have noticed that."

Nalu was about to reprimand her friend for speaking to Ciro in such a manner, when the ice dragon cut her off.

"Oh, but there's nothing remotely miserable about being in the company of two beautiful dragonesses," he winked. Nalu's face turned bright red, but her friend merely rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Have fun," she muttered dryly to Nalu and strode stiffly away. Ciro snickered quietly.

"H-hey, wait!" Nalu called, but her friend had already gone. She looked disappointed.

"Guess the miserable weather got to her," Ciro smirked, settling down next to Nalu in the now vacated spot on the cushions, "Allow me to keep you company."

Surprisingly, the green dragoness didn't object.

Saffron was perusing a shelf near the centre of the library. This shelf reached all the way from floor to ceiling, one of the few that did. Many of the books seemed to deal with dragon history, which was why the lightning dragoness was searching this section. It seemed the likely place for anything dealing with the panthers. But there seemed to be far too many books for her to know which one to choose.

"This doesn't exactly make it easy," she muttered, craning her head up to the ceiling, "Why do they have to make the bookshelves so tall?"

"Guess they need to, to fit in all the books," Saffron sighed to herself, cocking her head to the side to read the titles of the books on the lower shelves.

_Rebellion of the Earth Dragons_;_ The Age of Fire_; _The First Oracle Dragon_; _Battle of Boyzitbig_. Saffron shook her head. These were all old books, detailing stories long before the Age of the Purple Dragon began a thousand years ago. And besides, they were about dragons, not panthers. Thinking that there might be something promising higher up, Saffron took flight and winged her way up to the top of the bookshelf.

"A ladder would be nice," she mused to herself. Her eyes scanned a row of books quickly, but nothing jumped out at her. Flapping her wings, she moved further along the shelf.

A flash of silver caught her attention and she moved closer to examine the thick, leather-bound book on the second top shelf. The title on the spine of the book was written in silvery letters. Saffron tilted her head to make it out.

'_A History of Dragon Relations._'

"Huh," the electricity dragoness frowned, "This might be what I'm looking for."

It was a large book with a black cover and a spine about as thick as her foreleg. She placed a paw on the top of the spine and attempted to pull it off the shelf. But it didn't budge. Scowling, she tried again. It barely shifted. The book was lodged firmly between the two books on either side of it and Saffron had no doubt that all of the books on this shelf were the same. They must have been running out of space if they were packing them this tight.

"Damn books," she grumbled as she placed both paws on the top of the spine. Bracing herself in the air, she tugged as hard as she could. The book creaked and shifted barely an inch towards her.

Gritting her teeth, Saffron threw all of her weight backwards, digging her claws into the spine of the book. It shot out of the shelf like a cork from a bottle, catching the electricity dragoness off guard. With a yelped she plummeted to the floor, the book plummeting after her. She hit the ground on her back, grunting at the pain, and looked up in time to see the huge dusty tome falling towards her. Her body stiffened for the impact.

"Watch it!" a voice yelled and a red blur suddenly shot over her, intercepting the book. Stunned, Saffron could only blink.

She rolled over onto her stomach, her head turned towards where the red blur had landed. Kazan stood at her side, the book at his feet and a strange look on his face. He nudged the book towards her with a paw.

"You wanted this?" he asked gruffly. Saffron stared.

She pulled the book closer, never taking her eyes off the fire dragon. Kazan looked her over.

"You know," he said, "you should be more careful. That thing could have crushed you. It's heavy enough."

The electricity dragoness narrowed her eyes, "What's with you? Since when have you _ever_ been helpful?"

Kazan bristled, "Since when have I needed a reason to be helpful? I just saved you from a falling slab of parchment! I don't know about you, but I don't fancy getting flattened by a dusty old book!"

Saffron lashed her tail, "And since when have you ever cared about what happens to me?"

Kazan faltered, his fierce expression wavering. Had it not been for his red scales, Saffron might have noticed the blush that spread across his cheeks. But lucky for him, she didn't. The crimson fire dragon clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Fine. Sorry I even _tried_ to help!" he snapped.

Saffron snorted and rolled her eyes. She stood up, tucking the book under her wing, and brushed passed the fire dragon.

"Well, thanks anyway. But next time," she looked back over her shoulder, "I can take care of myself."

She flicked her tail, her golden brown tailblade catching Kazan under the chin. As she sauntered away, he glared after her. He had half a mind to tackle her, to teach her a lesson about gratitude, when someone else beat him to it. A blur of gold scales shot out from behind the book shelf, slammed into Saffron, and sent her rolling head over heels.

"Surprise!" Zannak yelled, pinning his sister to the ground. Kazan stared.

With her jaw pressed to the floor and her brother draped heavily across her shoulders, Saffron could only snarl and swish her tail angrily in response. Zannak grinned down at her, ignoring the lethal glare she was sending him.

"What is your problem?" Saffron snarled, attempting to push herself up. But Zannak's weight kept her flat against the floor. With a growl, the electricity dragoness surged upwards, flaring her wings and toppling her brother off her back.

He rolled onto his back, grinning goofily up at her, "Someone's edgy. What's up, little sis?"

"You," She snapped, gathering up the book that had been knocked from her grasp, "_You_ are 'what's up'!"

"I was just playing around," Zannak laughed, flopping onto his side. Saffron merely rolled her eyes and stalked away, the book under her wing.

Her golden brother jumped to his feet and trotted after her, laughing and teasing her. Kazan watched them for a moment before he turned on his heel and strode away, still brimming with indignation.

Spyro felt like he'd been searching for hours with no luck at all. There seemed to be books on every subject – guardians, elements, old war generals, ancient cities, myths and legends, even things like gardening and music – every subject, that is, except panthers. After placing yet another unsuccessful book back on the shelf, the purple dragon turned to see if anyone else was having more luck. It certainly didn't seem like it.

Kazan seemed to have given up and was mindlessly pacing past the shelves, muttering under his breath; Saffron was trying to read a huge book, while Zannak bobbed up and down behind her, irritating her to no end; Ciro was busy chatting up the green dragoness, Nalu; and Ember had struck up a conversation with the librarian, a wiry green dragon with a round pair of spectacles on the end of his nose.

The pink dragoness seemed to have entirely forgotten what she had meant to ask the librarian in the first place. In fact, the only dragon that Spyro could see who was even trying to help, was Flame. But, judging from the constant frown on his face, he wasn't having much luck either.

Sighing, the purple dragon turned away from the bookshelf he'd been browsing and decided instead to look for Cynder. The black dragoness had disappeared, no doubt have found her own little niche in which she could search in peace and quiet. After searching on the ground floor, Spyro took the curving marble staircase up to the second floor. He saw Cynder in a far corner, surrounded by piles of books. But someone else was with her.

Chasm didn't like rain. In fact, he detested it. It was wet, cold and rather uncomfortable. That was why, with the constant downpour drenching the city, the young earth dragon made his way to the library where it was dry and warm. He expected to be bored. After all, he wasn't keen on books either. Written letters confused him, no matter how hard Cyril tried to teach him. However, Chasm was gladly mistaken.

After several minutes of wandering aimlessly around the ground floor, the earth dragon made his way up the stairs to the balcony-like second floor. And there, nestled on a bed of cushions with a book in her paws and several more stacked around her, was the object of his desires. Cynder.

Chasm wasted no time in striding confidently over to her. She was alone and seemed entirely absorbed in the book she was reading. Her emerald eyes skimmed over the pages with an ease than made Chasm both impressed and envious. Reading was not his strong point.

"Hey," he said as he stopped just inches in front of her. She flinched so hard that the book in her paws snapped shut violently.

Cynder looked up to see Chasm grinning sheepishly at her.

"Did I startle you?" the green dragon asked. Cynder sighed, a wisp of black smoke curling from her nostrils.

"Oh, Chasm, it's you," she acknowledged him reluctantly, her paw inching towards her book.

"I came in here looking for shelter from the rain," Chasm said and added with a grin, "Finding you was an added bonus."

Cynder was flattered, true, but she could never consider fancying anyone other than Spyro, especially a cocky, obsessive dragon like Chasm. And besides, she was busy.

"Listen, Chasm, I don't mean to be rude, but…" she hesitated, toying with the book in her paws, "I'm a little busy at the moment and I don't really want any distractions."

"Distractions? Who?" as Cynder had expected and dreaded, her meaning went straight over Chasm's head.

The black dragoness sighed and tried a more direct approach, "I'm reading at the moment, Chasm. I'd like to be left alone."

The earth dragon blinked, "Alone? With books? Come on, Cynder, that's boring! I just came to keep you company."

Cynder's claws began to tap impatiently on the spine of her book, "That's very thoughtful of you, Chasm, but I find reading rather interesting and I don't really need any company…"

Chasm hesitated but, to Cynder's dismay, the earth dragon didn't give up so easily. He grinned widely, showing perfect white fangs, "Come on, Cyn, I won't take up much of your time. Just a little chat – at least until the rain stops."

Cynder refrained from scowling as she heard the nickname he had given her, "Chasm, really, I'd like some time to myself!"

"To read books?" Chasm laughed, not unkindly and yet still irritating to the black dragoness, "Just let me stay a while. I guarantee it'll be more interesting than that dusty old book you've got there."

Cynder opened her mouth to reply, feeling both impatient and annoyed, when someone else beat her to it. Someone cleared their throat behind Chasm, causing the earth dragon to spin around in surprise.

"I believe she asked you to leave," Spyro said, a little darkly.

The change in Chasm's demeanour was instantaneous, "I don't remember asking your opinion!"

Spyro's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Regardless, I expect you to honour a dragoness's wishes."

It was no secret that Chasm didn't like Spyro. Cynder wasn't really sure why, but she suspected it was jealousy. After all, Flame had been the same not that long ago. The earth dragon gritted his teeth.

"And I expect you to leave us alone! I was just talking to her!" he retorted angrily.

"She asked you to leave!" Spyro shot back, his voice rising in volume. It echoed in the silence of the library.

Chasm took a stance, "And I'm asking you to leave! We don't need your interference!"

"If there's a dragoness being harassed, be it Cynder or any other, I believe it's my duty to interfere!" Spyro growled, "And frankly, from what I see, this counts as harassment! So leave Cynder alone!"

Chasm whole body quivered with anger, "Harassment? You're the one doing the harassing! She doesn't need you to baby her! She doesn't belong to you!"

Spyro felt white hot rage burn through his veins at Chasm's remark, "She doesn't belong to you either! Or anyone! She wants you to leave her alone, so _leave_!"

"You leave!" Chasm roared and, before anyone could stop him, he charged at the purple dragon.

Cynder gave a help of surprise as the earth dragon struck Spyro hard in the chest with his thick, curving horns. He went flying backwards from the force of the blow and landed in a crumpled, purple heap. Anger sparked in Cynder's eyes.

"What are you-?" she began, when Spyro suddenly surged to his feet and charged.

"Get out!" the purple dragon roared, catching Chasm in the chest with his forehead. He felt his brains rattle on contact, as Chasm rolled across the floor.

Cynder skittered out the way, but one of the piles of books she had stacked was knocked flying as Chasm crashed into it. Several books landed on the earth dragon, enraging him further. He staggered to his feet, eyes burning with anger.

"Purple freak!" Chasm charged the purple dragon and Spyro almost managed to dodge. But the earth dragon caught his opponent's tail in his mouth and brought him crashing to the floor.

Spyro lashed out with his hind legs, catching Chasm a nasty gash across the cheek, "Get off!"

"Stop it!" Cynder yelled, dropping the book she had been holding, "This isn't helping!"

But neither of the male dragons listened to her. Chasm tried to dig his claws into Spyro's hindquarters, but the purple dragon retaliated with a quick slash of his wing barb. The earth dragon stumbled away, pawing at his stinging muzzle. He looked up, eyes watering with pain.

"Who do you think you are?" Spyro snarled, "Harassing Cynder? Attacking me? You might be Terrador's best student, but you'll never be earth guardian!"

A howl of rage tore itself from Chasm's throat as he launched himself at Spyro. The purple dragon barely had time to yell before the earth dragon slammed into him and sent him crashing through the railing. Cynder shrieked as the two male dragons plummeted from the second story to the floor below, several books tumbling after them.

Spyro gasped at the pain as he slammed shoulders first into the polished wooden floor of the ground level. For a brief second, Chasm landed on top of him, knocking the wind out of him. But the earth dragon's momentum caused him to roll off the purple dragon and onto his side, wincing as he landed on one of his wings. For a moment both dragons lay there, robbed of breath and aching with pain, until Chasm struggled to his feet. The earth dragon had ridden the fall down on his opponent, softening the blow when he finally hit ground. As such, he was the first to recover.

Chasm wasted no time with pointless insults and instead pounced on Spyro with teeth and claws bared. The purple dragon, still dazed and robbed of breath, was jolted out of his stupor when Chasm sunk his claws into his shoulders. Spyro roared with pain and his tail lashed out, catching Chasm's hind legs and knocking him off his feet. The purple dragon rolled onto his stomach, still wincing as his body ached.

But he had no time to recover before the earth dragon was on him again, this time aiming to bite his neck. Spyro uttered a wordless snarl, his claws finding their mark in Chasm's shoulders and tearing bloody gashes in his scaly skin. Like wild animals, the two rolled over each other and tore at every inch they could reach of their opponent. Dragons were yelling at them from the sidelines, but neither paid any attention.

The librarian was frantic to keep them away from the book shelves, but was powerless to do anything to break up the fighting males. Cynder raced down the stairs, galloping towards the fight.

"Stop this! Stop this, now, both of you!" the librarian was crying as Spyro and Chasm rolled closer to the nearest bookshelf, "Take it outside, at least!"

But it was no use. Spyro snarled as his hind legs found Chasm's underbelly and kicked the green dragon off his chest. He slammed into the bookshelf, causing it to wobble dangerously, and collapsed to the floor in a cascade of books and tomes. Chasm burst out of the pile of literature, claws aimed at Spyro's chest, sending books flying. The librarian moaned in horror as the books skidded across the floor, some lying open with pages half torn out.

Spyro spun a half-circle, whipping the charging Chasm across the face with his tail and causing him to stumble backwards. There was blood in his eyes from a scratch that the earth dragon had inflicted on his forehead. Everything in his vision was tinged with red – whether from blood or anger, he didn't know. An animalistic snarl echoed from Chasm's throat as he charged once more. But he never reached Spyro.

"Get out of it!" roared a furious voice as something red smashed violently into the charging earth dragon.

Chasm went rolling, locked in battle with the red dragon, until the two of them skidded to a stop. Flame was pinning the green dragon down, his golden eyes burning with fury and his teeth bared in a dangerous snarl. Chasm glared up at him through the blood that seeped into his eyes from the scratches on his face. Spyro stared.

"The hell!" Flame yelled in Chasm's face, "What the hell gives you the right to attack Spyro like that? You slimy, putrid excuse for a worm!"

Chasm grimaced and tried to rise, but Flame's claws were at his throat and he couldn't move a muscle. He could only show his fangs in a snarl that didn't seem quite so threatening now with him pinned to the floor. Flame was trembling with rage.

"I should tear you apart right here, worm!" he growled, his claws beginning to draw blood from Chasm's neck. The earth dragon squirmed.

"Hypocrite," he snarled thickly, finding difficulty talking with Flame's talons at his throat, "Everyone knows…how you treated Spyro when…you first got here! Let me…up!"

Flame's snarl widened, showing his fangs right up to the gum, "That's in the past, worm! Spyro's _my _rival and I'll be damned if I let you beat him up before I have a chance to! Not that you _could_, you filthy maggot! If you hadn't pulled that dirty trick and pushed him off the balcony, he'd have shredded you by now!"

"I could…beat him any day!" Chasm snarled back, struggling against Flame's claws as beads of blood ran down his neck, "Whether you interfere…or not! I'll be the one doing the shredding! And if you don't…get off me…it'll be you I shred!"

The fire dragon raised a paw, preparing to slash Chasm across the face, but the librarian's yell distracted both of them.

"That's enough!" the wiry green dragon yelled, "Get out of my library!"

He had been gathering up the books that had been knocked from the shelves and his spectacles were hanging off the end of his muzzle. He looked flustered and angry. Ember quickly moved to help him gather the books. Taking advantage of Flame's distraction, Chasm squirmed out of his grip and scrambled away, whacking Flame in the side with his clubbed tail.

Spitting blood on the floor, Chasm glared at Spyro and hissed, "Next time, you'll get what's coming to you. And even your idiot friend won't be able to save you! Purple freak!"

Then he whirled around and staggered towards the door, leaving droplets of blood in a trail behind him. Flame snarled and made to charge after him, but Spyro quickly stepped into his path.

"That's enough, Flame!" the purple dragon said quickly, restraining him with a paw, "Let him go. You've…done enough."

"That worm!" Flame snarled, glaring after Chasm as he left the library, "Who does he think he is? Next time I get my paws on him-!"

But at that moment, the librarian interrupted them, wings flared and spectacles still hanging askew.

"Get out! Out of my library! You've done enough damage! Out! Both of you!"

Grimacing at each other, the two rivals hurried away from the infuriated librarian and made for the door. Spyro glanced apologetically at Cynder, but she only shook her head and moved to help Ember and the librarian to gather the damaged books. The purple dragon sighed and followed Flame outside, his injuries still aching.

It was cold outside, but at least the rain had eased up. Instead of the soaking downpour of earlier, only a light drizzle fell from the clouds to dampen the streets. Spyro strode out into the open, letting the cold rain sooth his stinging wounds. His back ached from his fall onto the wooden floor. A part of him hoped Chasm was aching just as badly.

"I can't believe that jerk," Flame muttered, moving to stand out in the rain with the purple dragon, "And he's supposed to be Terrador's prize student?"

'_He's not a bad fighter,_' Spyro thought to himself reluctantly. Through the hazy drizzle of rain, he could see the green form of Chasm limping slowly away. '_I'd hate to see what he's like with his element._'

"Flame…thanks…"

The fire dragon glanced at Spyro in surprise, "What?"

"For standing up for me," Spyro added, with a smile that looked more like a grimace.

Flame snorted and looked away, "Yeah, well, he was out of line. If anyone is going to bloody you up in a battle, it'll be me."

The purple dragon grinned, "Sure, Flame. You know, you weren't that unlike Chasm when we first met…"

"That was a whole year ago!" the red dragon spluttered, looking offended, "And besides…I've changed."

"You know, I'm glad I've got you as a friend now, Flame," Spyro admitted, "rather than an enemy."

Flame didn't respond. After several moments in which the two dragons just stood in the rain outside the library, Spyro had an idea.

"You didn't find anything about the panthers did you?" he asked Flame first.

"Not a thing," the fire dragon responded bitterly.

"Neither did I," Spyro sighed, staring into the rain, "I think we should ask the guardians. They're older than us, wiser than us, and they just know more than we do. If they know anything…"

"Wouldn't they have told us by now?" Flame cut in sceptically, raising a scaly eyebrow.

Spyro scowled darkly, "They've kept secrets from me before. Come on, it's worth a shot."

The purple dragon set off towards the guardians' quarters, Flame trailing behind asking, "If they kept it a secret from you, what makes you think they're going to tell you now? And why would they keep anything a secret anyway?"

"The more we find out about these panthers, the better equipped we will be to defend ourselves against them if they attack," Spyro said stubbornly, "I'm going to try everything I can to get information, no matter how improbable it might be."

"Whatever you say," Flame sighed and fell into step beside him. But they'd barely moved away from the library when a small white figure appeared out of the hazy curtain of rain.

The figure paused for a moment upon seeing them before hurrying forwards calling, "Spyro, Flame! I've been looking for you!"

Spyro blinked rain out of his eyes, recognising the figure as it came closer, "Zephira? What are you doing out in the rain?"

"Yeah and where have you been?" Flame added.

The wind dragoness trotted to a stop in front of them, droplets of water running in rivulets over her pale scales. She looked like she'd been out in the rain for a while.

"I got away from the guardians about half an hour ago and have been looking all over for you," she sighed, shivering and shaking water off her rump, "I went to the Academy, but you weren't there, so I've been wandering around ever since. Where's everyone else?"

"Sorry, Zephira, we were in the library," Spyro apologised, feeling a little guilty that she'd been out looking for them in the rain all along, "The others are still there. We were just going to see the guardians ourselves."

"What did they want with you?" Flame asked curiously.

Zephira hesitated and, for the first time, Spyro noticed the underlying worry in her purple eyes. What had the guardians wanted with this petite little dragoness?

"I…well…" Zephira traced her claw over the wet cobblestones beneath her feet as thought she was hesitant to speak.

"What is it?" Flame pressed impatiently.

She looked up at Spyro, "They…want me to teach you."

Spyro was bemused, "Teach me?"

"How to control wind," Zephira revealed at last with a wispy sigh, "They think it's time you learned how."

"I…" The purple dragon blinked, stunned, and uttered the only thing he could think of, "You?"

Zephira blushed, her white cheeks turning rosy pink like the sky at sunset. Instantly, Spyro regretted his exclamation.

"I-I didn't mean it like…" he stuttered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, "I'm sure you'll be a good teacher, I just thought, I mean…"

"I know," Zephira said quickly, cutting him off, "I don't feel like I'm ready to teach someone. I'm…only young…"

She looked away, "What if I'm not…good enough? But the guardians think I'm the best for the job because…because we're friends, I suppose…and there aren't many wind dragons in the city."

"What about Mother Seak?" Flame interrupted, "Isn't she?"

Zephira smiled fondly. She had always admired the old white dragoness known as Mother Seak. Seak was like a grandmother to her and a mother, too, since her own mother had died long ago during the war. But Seak was old and sightless, well past her prime years.

"Mother Seak is very old, Flame," the little wind dragoness explained, "She lost her ability to control wind many years ago. She still remembers what it was like and she uses that knowledge to teach the young dragons to fly. But she cannot teach Spyro to control wind."

"Right…" Spyro murmured, staring at his claws. Zephira looked at him anxiously.

"Do you think…do you think you could learn to control wind from me?" she asked carefully, worried about his answer.

Spyro wasn't sure how to answer. In truth, he didn't want to learn – whether from Zephira or anyone else. Didn't he already have enough to do? And yet the guardians just seemed to be pushing more and more on him. If this continued, Spyro wasn't sure if he could take it anymore.

"If…if it's what the guardians think is best…" Spyro stammered, shaking his head slowly, "But, you have to decide if you want to do this, Zephira. You have to decide if you think you can."

"I think," Zephira paused, her eyes glazed over, "I think I shall talk with Mother Seak. She will know what to say. She always does."

Spyro nodded in acceptance. He was surprised when Zephira turned her eyes back to him and added, "Oh, and Spyro? The guardians told me to tell you that your 'advanced training' will continue. Terrador wishes to see you for your lesson at the Western courtyard this afternoon. Spyro, what is this advanced training?"

Flame raised an eyebrow, "Advanced training? You been keeping something from us, Spyro?"

"I…" Spyro faltered. He'd almost forgotten that he hadn't told any of his friends, other than Cynder, of his advanced training. He hoped Flame wouldn't be mad.

"I'll tell you later, when everyone is together," Spyro promised, a little reluctantly. Flame didn't look pleased, but he never was the patient sort.

"Let's head over to the guardians," the purple dragon suggested, turning away.

"I'll tell everyone over at the library," Zephira offered and then scampered away.

Flame watched her go. Something was happening – something that involved Spyro – he was sure of it. Advanced training? Lessons with the wind element? It was almost as though they were trying to make Spyro stronger, as quickly as possible. But why?

"You coming, Flame?" Spyro called. Still with thoughts running through his mind, the fire dragon turned and hurried after his purple friend.

A dull knock sounded at the door, breaking Terrador's concentration and distracting him from the old scroll he'd been reading. The earth guardian heaved a hefty sigh and glanced out the window to see that the rain still had yet to cease, though it had eased. He rolled the scroll up carefully.

"Enter!"

In response to Terrador's call, the door creaked open and two dragons strode into his study. The earth guardian was a little surprised to see Flame and Spyro, but a part of him had been expecting it ever since they'd returned from Avalar. He could see the inquisitory gleam in Spyro's eye that told him there was something the purple dragon wanted to know.

"How may I be of assistance, young dragons?" Terrador asked, setting the scroll down in his very low wooden desk. It had been built close to the floor, allowing the guardian to lie down to read or write.

"We came here to ask you a question," Spyro said, watching the earth guardian carefully, "about the panthers."

Terrador sighed and lumbered over to an old and battered cushion where he laid his battle-worn body. He looked over the two hard-faced youngsters, considering them for a moment. Flame had always been very stubborn and, in a way, so had Spyro, especially in matters that concerned those he cared most about.

"I expected as much," Terrador admitted, shaking his head, "However, I am afraid I cannot help you."

The purple dragon looked shocked, "But…surely you must know something! You're the guardians, you should…"

"I know you seek answers, Spyro, but in truth I too have been searching in vain," the old green guardian turned his head to the pile of scrolls on his desk, "Even the oldest of my scrolls reveal nothing of the black felines known as panthers. We are at a loss, Spyro."

Spyro's face fell, "How can that be? How can there be nothing written about them?"

"Maybe no one wanted to write about them," Flame muttered dryly. Spyro glared at him, but was surprised by Terrador's next words.

"In a way, Flame is correct," the earth guardian sighed, "Dragons are a proud species. We only wrote about matters than concerned us, or anything to do with our species. Even before Malefor, our relations with the feline tribe in Avalar were minimal at best. We tolerated each other, but we were not friends by any meaning of the word. Just as the feline tribe meant nothing to us, nothing was ever scripted about them. Unfortunately, we are only discovering this now, when it matters most."

"So…so," dismay coloured Spyro's expression, "there's nothing? No information at all?"

"Not," replied Terrador, with a gleam in his eye, "in our history. But in the history of the cheetah tribe, you may discover something. In fact, there is someone in this city at this very moment who may have the information you seek. Can you think of who that could be, Spyro?"

Flame looked stumped, but the answer dawned on Spyro in an instant.

"Prowlus," he muttered.

"Yes," Terrador nodded, "If there was ever a cheetah so proud and knowledgeable of history, it is Prowlus. I am sure he knows, but it may be information he is unwilling to disclose. Perhaps it is something he is ashamed of. Either way, the chief of cheetahs may be the only source of answers in this city. I urge you, Spyro, to confront him. If anyone can coax information out of a cheetah as stubborn as Prowlus, it is you."

Spyro's face hardened in determination, "Right. Let's go, Flame."

"Yeah," Flame agreed, with a wicked grin, "We've got a cheetah to beat answers out of."

The two young dragons left Terrador's study as quickly as they had come, with a passing cry of, "Thankyou, Master Terrador!"

With another hefty sigh, the earth guardian was left to wonder and hope that they wouldn't annoy Chief Prowlus too much.

When Flame and Spyro left the guardian quarters, they found their friends already waiting for them. Zephira must have found them and led them all here. Cynder was at the head of the group and, upon seeing Spyro, instantly made her way over to him. The purple dragon hesitated.

"Cynder!" he yelped, noticing the steely glint in her eye. His demeanour instantly changed to apologetic.

"L-listen…I'm sorry about earlier," he mumbled, pawing guiltily at the ground, "I should have aggravated Chasm. I only made things worse…"

"Spyro, it's ok," the black dragoness insisted, to his surprise, "I just wish you wouldn't be so quick to jump to my rescue. I can take care of myself."

Spyro looked down, ashamed. There was a sudden sting in his forehead and he realised Cynder was licking clean the cut that Chasm had inflicted there. In front of everyone else…his cheeks burned with embarrassment. Cynder ceased cleaning the wound and nuzzled his cheek gently.

"Are you ok? You were pretty cut up and you had a nasty fall," she seemed genuinely concerned.

Spyro smiled weakly, "I'll be fine. I've had worse. Much worse."

"You don't have to tell me," Cynder agreed wryly.

"What did the guardians tell you, Spyro?" Zannak cut in, reminding the two dragons that their friends were still present.

"Uh…? Oh," Spyro shook his head roughly as though to clear it, "Terrador doesn't know anything. He suggested we ask Prowlus instead."

"Prowlus?" Ember wrinkled her nose, "How much is that stubborn old cat going to tell us?"

"Probably not much," Flame agreed bitterly, rolling his eyes.

"We won't know until we try!" Spyro insisted stubbornly, as everyone had expected.

Saffron agreed, "If anyone's going to know anything about the panthers, it'll be Prowlus. After all, weren't they part of the village in Avalar a thousand years ago?"

"According to Hunter," Spyro nodded, "That reminds me, did any of you find anything in the library?"

But as he expected, everyone shook their heads. Saffron admitted she had found a small paragraph concerning the feline village in Avalar, but nothing had been mentioned about panthers. It seemed Prowlus really was the only choice.

"Are you all coming?" Spyro asked and was greeted with several nods.

"The more of us there are, the more likely we are of getting answers out of the old furbag!" Zannak exclaimed, with a toothy grin.

"That settles it, then," Flame nodded, "So, who knows where to find the old chief?"

"I do," Spyro muttered, "If I know Prowlus, he won't have left the room I escorted him to this morning."

There were guards outside Prowlus's door when Spyro and his group approached. Luckily, the guards weren't strangers. In fact, they were two felines that Spyro quite liked. Cougar gave the group of young dragons a rugged grin, his handsome blue eyes twinkling merrily. Forage gave them a fleeting smile; he looked tired.

"Hey there, Spyro, I see you finally came to see us," the golden-furred cat winked and leant against the wall, his huge javelin held in his paw, "You know, it gets rather boring guarding the chief's door all day. Though I hear the weather's not so good either."

Spyro shook his head, "It's still raining. Cougar, Forage, these are my friends – Flame, Ember, Saffron, Zephira, Ciro, Zannak and Kazan. I believe you already met Cynder and…" the purple dragon paused, as he realised something for the first time, "has anyone seen Sparx?"

The dragons shook their heads, but Forage provided the answer.

"The little glowing dragonfly?" the blue-furred feline asked, "He came by not too long ago, said he was tired of watching you look for books in the library. I think he went off to the main hall."

Spyro shrugged, "Well, at least he's doing something. Cougar, Forage, I need to ask a favour."

"What'll it be, Spyro?" Cougar asked, fiddling with his javelin. Kazan was eying the weapon warily.

"We need to speak with Prowlus."

"Ooh," Cougar hesitated, running his free hand over the short golden fur on his head, "That's a doozy. Prowlus don't like anyone disturbing him, 'specially dragons. Right Forage?"

"Yes…" Forage looked worried, "I doubt he'd be very happy to see you, Spyro. Especially since there's…uh…so many of you."

Zannak grinned widely, "We're just the supporting team! We won't mess anything up!"

"Yeah right," Saffron muttered with a sidelong glance at her brother.

"This is important," Spyro insisted, "We need to ask him about the panthers."

"Ah," Forage's eyes lit up, but he still looked anxious, "Yes, that is a particularly touchy subject for the chief. I'd tell you the tale myself, but I don't know the details."

"That's why we need to see, Prowlus," Flame growled, "So if you'd just let us in…"

"Prowlus won't be very happy with us, either, if we let you disturb him," Forage shook his head. Cougar, on the other hand, didn't seem nearly so uptight.

"But he's cranky all the time, so we might as well give it a shot," the golden-furred feline winked, "especially seeing as it's something important."

"B-but…" Forage spluttered as Cougar moved to knock on the door. However, it was clear to the young dragons who was in control.

Cougar rapped smartly on the closed door with his knuckles. After a moment, a gruff voice called out agitatedly, "What do you want?"

"A few guests here to see you, chief," Cougar called through the door.

"Tell them to go away and leave me in peace," Prowlus's voice snapped. Flame and Spyro grimaced at each other.

"No can do, chief," the golden-furred feline called back, grinning, "They insist on speaking with you. And it's…pretty important."

There was a silence and then a grumbling sound from behind the door. After a few moments, they heard the sound of soft pawfalls and the door slowly creaked open.

"What could be so important that you have to disobey my orders…?" Prowlus was muttering, until his eyes fell on Spyro, "Oh. You."

The purple dragon dipped his head, "Sorry for the intrusion, chief Prowlus. We came to ask you something."

"The interrogation committee, I see," Prowlus growled, his eyes sweeping over the group of young dragons with disapproval, "What do you want?"

"Tell us about the panthers," Flame said bluntly, before anyone could stop him.

Prowlus's face hardened, "Demanding, aren't you? You want information? No. Go away and leave me in peace. I've got enough to think about without a group of rowdy hatchlings interrogating me about things that are none of their business!"

The cheetah chief made to close the door in their faces, but Spyro stepped forwards and held in open with his shoulder. He stared up at Prowlus defiantly.

"With all due respect, chief, this is important," Spyro said, "If we're going to sort out this mess and figure out why the panthers tried to assassinate you, we're going to need to know everything about them that you know. You want to get back to your village as soon as possible, right? Then maybe you can help us help you."

Prowlus's eyes narrowed. The purple dragon waited anxiously for his response, half expecting the chief to kick him out and slam the door shut. But, to his surprise, Prowlus did no such thing.

"You seem to have a put a lot of thought into this, dragon," the cheetah muttered, "If you aren't going to leave…I suppose I don't have much of a choice. The sooner I tell you, the sooner you can leave me in peace!"

He turned on his heel and strode back into his room, his cloak flying out behind him. Spyro took this as an invitation and strode in after him, with his group following behind. Cougar and Forage made to follow, but Prowlus turned his glare on them.

"Stay on guard!" he snapped, "And don't let anyone else in!"

"Sir," Forage said quickly and retreated out of the room. Cougar only grinned crookedly and closed the door behind them.

Prowlus stood in the centre of his room, his gaze sweeping over the small crowd staring expectantly up at him. He wasn't fond of dragons; especially young ones. And now there were nine of them standing in his room. The sooner he got rid of them, the better.

"Well? What do you need to know?" the chief snapped impatiently.

Spyro met his gaze calmly and replied evenly, "Everything you know about the panthers. Who they were, what they were like, and why they left Avalar a thousand years ago."

Prowlus snorted, "That's a long story, dragon. Might as well sit down and make yourselves comfy."

The young dragons did just that, settling down on separate cushions. There weren't enough for everyone, so some of them had to share. Cynder and Spyro were sharing a cushion, as were Flame and Ember and Ciro and Zephira. Saffron and Kazan sat as far away from each other as possible. Prowlus eased himself down onto a cushion, surveying his audience.

"This is a tale that begins almost a thousand years ago, long before any of you were born," Prowlus began, eying Spyro shrewdly, "It takes place in a time when the very first purple dragon was alive and very much in control. Malefor and his army of apes were terrorising the Dragon Realms and the world was a dangerous place for any creature, dragon or otherwise."

"In those times, the village in Avalar was formed of far more than just cheetahs and it was far larger than it is today. It was under the wise rule of Talon, a fearless cheetah if there ever was one – and one of my ancestors. With Malefor causing terror everywhere we turned, it was a dangerous time for any creature who couldn't defend himself. And, as such, the cheetah village needed to be strong and unified. But not everyone saw eye to eye…"

**A/N: Wooooooo! Yep, random library fight scenes are the best. You can't deny it. So excited for the next chapter! :D I've been planning it in my head ever since I first thought of it. So yeah, bring your time machines because we're going back a thousand years! Anyway, raise your hand if you liked the chapter! Come on, don't be shy. I've got some news! I'm now officially a university student! *cheers* But that means I'm going to have less time off. However it also means I should be able to get back into a routine - which also means less procrastination - which might actually mean faster updates. After all, I wrote ToaO back when I was in my final year of school (final exams! D:). Who remembers back then when I could update a chapter a week? Ah for the good old days...**

**If you're reading this, I love you all. I especially love the OVER 100 REVIEWS for only 5 chapters (the hell, dudes? It hasn't even gotten interesting yet!). Forgive me if I don't reply to reviews - I forget sometimes (no, I didn't reply to any on the previous chapter). But draco363 asked a question waaaaay back in chapter 4 (which I didn't answer in chapter 5 coz I was in a rush) that I think needs an answer. How do I think of all this? Ask my imagination, it knows better than me. Haha, ok, that's not the answer but it's close enough. The real answer is - I'm an airhead. My head is in the clouds pretty much all day (and sometimes all night, which makes it impossible to sleep). It continuously thinks up new scenarios that play out like a repeated animation behind my eyes. Weird, right? Often ideas spring to me whilst I'm writing (Cougar's javelin for example. And all those random unplanned OCs including Cougar himself). I get inspiration from other fanfics, but I strive not to copy ideas - mostly, reading just gives me the motivation to create my own work that people will love as much as I love to read everyone else's work (did that sentence make sense?). So yeah...I live to imagine and my ideas practically just spring out of the air. **

**Has everyone heard about the horrible earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand? Lots of people have died and many buildings have been terribly damaged or simply collapsed. Remember when I said that I was going on holiday? Guess where I went. Yep, New Zealand. Lucky for us, no earthquakes struck whilst we were there. But, the funny thing is, the earthquake happened exactly two weeks after we left Christchurch. In fact, we had been sitting under the cathedral that very morning - and now there's just rubble everywhere in that exact spot where we sat. It's kinda spooky to think that, if that earthquake had struck two weeks earlier, I might not even be here. Anyway, to anyone who has been affected by that earthquake, my thoughts go out to you (though it probably won't help much). **

**Have I written enough yet? Oh yeah, just thought I'd let you all know - I have a deviant art account. I made one like...a month or so ago (I don't actually remember). Hopefully, soon, I should be able to upload pictures relating to my fanfictions (Yep, I like to draw, too). We'll see about that eventually. Until then, if you wanna go check me out on there, my username is The-River-Styxx. ;)**

**Once again, thanks for so many reviews (it really makes my day) and thanks a bunch for reading! Sorry about the long rambling A/N (I had a lot to say) and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter despite my long absence!**

**Toodles!**

**~Riverstyxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Do your eyes deceive you? Yes, yes they do. Move along now, nothing to see here. Oh wait, there's a new chapter down there. Might wanna read that. :P **

**Ok, so it's been aaaaaages. Like almost 2 months. But that's because I was busy and stressed with uni work, and because this chapter took ages and ages to write. It's over 20 000 words long! I do hope it's not too tedious. It feels so rushed, but I guess that's because I tried to squeeze a whole story into a single chapter. It's probably full of plot holes, but try to skim over those... The Forbidden Passage stuff is a bit plot hole-ish, but I'm going to attempt to have Prowlus clear some of those up next chapter (So don't point them out. I know the holes are there. They just need filling.) **

**For those who have forgotten, since it's been so long, Prowlus had just begun to tell the tale of what happened to the panthers 1000 years ago. This is that tale.**

**Super thanks to my awesome beta GoldenGriffiness, who gives me the confidence I need to actually post these chapters despite my lingering lack of faith in my writing abilities. I decided after I finished writing this that it probably wasn't my best idea (should have told the story just in montage. sigh.) But we live and learn, I suppose. Anyway, sorry for being gone so long, I'm back and still alive, so enjoy the massively long chapter!**

**7.**

The river babbled over rocks and pebbles, like the laughter of a hundred water spirits. A cool breeze; a trill of birdsong; a warm ray of sunshine that seeped through glossy green leaves. The Valley of Avalar was held in a moment of sweet serenity. From the top of a grassy knoll, a spotted golden feline observed his peaceful domain. In a world ravaged by war, this place seemed an isolated paradise – a refuge from the horrors of the outside lands.

Trees dotted the landscape; a thick forest filled with an abundance of wildlife and lush vegetation. A thousand years from now, the trees would thin and the wildlife would become scarce. But for now, this paradise was home to many a creature. A gentle river, kept in control by the trees that grew along the bank, weaved its way through the valley. It too would change, become wilder and faster, as the years moved by.

The cheetah's village was laid out behind him, built upon a wide expanse from whence trees had long been removed and used to make huts and fences. Other smaller settlements were set throughout the valley, hidden amongst the trees. The feline tribe was a large one, but ruled under a single chief. This valley was their domain.

"Sir!" An urgent shout caused the cheetah to spin away from the land he had been surveying. A young blue feline was dashing towards him, spear in hand and eyes full of urgency.

"The scouts-!" the young cat called, but he needn't finish what he was saying. Talon, the chief of the tribe, knew just from the tone of the messenger's voice that something was wrong.

The cheetah chief turned and soundlessly dashed for the village, automatically drawing his bow from the quiver strapped to his shoulders. The messenger feline stopped for a moment to catch his breath before he followed his chief back to the village.

There was no one on guard when Talon and the messenger cat dashed through the main gates into the village. Normally, the chief would have reprimanded his guards. But he saw the moment he entered the village the reason they had deserted their posts. Talon's blood ran cold.

A small band of feline warriors were staggering through the back entrance of the village, supporting each other and relying on the help of the villagers that hurried to assist them. Talon had sent these scouts out only a few days ago and now they had returned, limping and licking their wounds. The villagers helped their returning comrades into the centre of the village, aiding the gravely wounded.

Talon observed a young female cat, with dusky brown fur and sharp grey eyes, supporting a heavily wounded panther. Captain Ashen, Talon realized with a jolt. Blood splattered the ground with every step the black feline took, and only the shoulder of the she-cat kept him upright. The chief hurried to help.

"Sir!" the she-cat, known as Coral, gasped, "He is wounded badly!"

Several times, Talon had begged Coral not to call him sir. She was, after all, his mate, and had been for several moons. But now was not the time.

"I know, Coral," he replied as gently as he could, taking some of the captain's weight onto his own shoulders. Together, they guided the wounded black cat towards the rest of his injured group.

A body was laid upon the ground, taken from the shoulders of two of the stronger scouts. The young cheetah's head lolled lifelessly, his lifeblood soaking the chest of his tunic. He had barely reached maturity and now lay lifeless at the feet of his chief. Talon slowly set the injured panther down and reached a shaky paw to place on the dead cheetah's forehead. It was cold.

"Flyk…" the chief whispered, his eyes wide and haunted, "Oh, Flyk…"

He hadn't expected this. Young Flyk, a vibrant and excited warrior, always eager to learn the ways of the village, was dead. He was hardly full grown. His blood seeped into the ground, his eyes mercifully closed in what seemed to be peaceful sleep. But his heart no longer beat; his chest no longer rose and fell with breath. Talon could smell the scent of death.

The chief felt numb. Only a few days ago, Flyk had been begging to be allowed to accompany the next scout party. He had been so eager, so excited to prove himself in Talon's eyes. The chief had not been able to refuse. Now Flyk's bright, excited face swam before his eyes, reminding him of what the young cheetah had been – what had been lost. Talon's shoulders shook.

"Flyk…" he whispered again, the lifeless young cheetah's head lolling against his paw.

"We…" a cracked voice caught his attention and he quickly turned his eyes on the injured captain at his side. The panther's bright golden eyes were slowly becoming lustreless.

"We tried…" he choked, blood dribbling from his mouth and staining the black fur of his muzzle, "They came…out of nowhere. I tried…to save him."

Talon shifted to cradle the dying panther's head in his arms, "It's ok, Ashen. You don't have to speak. Save your energy."

But captain Ashen shook his head feebly, his blood dripping onto the ground, "L-listen to me, ch-chief Talon. I don't have long. The apes, they…ambushed us. Flyk didn't…stand a chance. I tried t-to help him! But…I…"

Ashen coughed weakly, blood spraying the fur around his lips. Talon's hands shook as tears pricked at his eyes. His chest felt tight; a coldness was spreading through his veins. Ashen was one of his oldest and closest friends – he had never seen him like this. He had never wanted to see him like this.

"Please, just don't speak," Talon pleaded, his orders turning to begs in the face of his friend's inescapable fate, "None of this was your fault, Ashen! Just save your strength. You can tell me everything after you recover."

The mortally wounded panther raised a paw and grasped at Talon's tunic, his eyes slowly growing dull, "T-Talon…you know as well as I do that this is the end…for me. I just wish I could have saved…Flyk. H-he was so young…so bright…"

Tears dribbled from Ashen's eyes, mingling with the blood around his muzzle. Talon shook his head roughly, tears flying like raindrops from his eyes. He didn't care that his whole tribe was seeing him now in this moment of weakness. He wanted to sob, to cry out his heart, to howl his pleas to the spirits to spare Ashen's life. But he knew that a chief must have more composure than that.

"Don't talk like that," he begged, his voice thick with tears as they rolled down his furred cheeks, "You're going to be fine. Flyk's death wasn't your fault! I can't afford to lose you too. I can't…"

Ashen's grip on Talon's tunic was slowly loosening. The panther took a shaky breath, "These are…dark times. I d-don't know what's going to h-happen to this world. I don't know who will die or who will survive. The dragons were a p-proud race. We looked up to them…revered them. They were strong, loyal…almost perfect. O-our races were never friends, but…they were always amazing…to us. Wh-who would have expected…th-that a dragon would be the one to d-destroy the balance of this world? I don't know…what will happen to this world."

"Ashen…" Talon swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Stand…strong," the panther gasped, his body trembling feebly, "Y-you are a fine chief, Talon. I would have f-followed you to the end…of the earth. I would have always stood by you. Never forget th-that we are loyal to you. Y-you will lead our tribe to greatness…no matter the hardships. You are the…g-greatest chief to ever r-rule this village. I…"

Ashen's claws tightened once more, one last time, on the cloth of Talon's robe. The panther's fading golden eyes met Talon's with a last desperate flicker of flame.

"I am glad…to have met you…" he whispered, blood flecking his lips. Several times, the panther tried to say something else, but he could only mouth wordlessly. Slowly, his grip on Talon's tunic loosened and his body began to go limp. The light in his eyes flickered and died.

Talon felt numb; cold. Ashen's head lolled into the crook of his elbow, his body falling limp as a rag. The panther's chest fell as a final breath left his broken, bleeding body. It never rose again. His golden eyes stared blankly into nothing, his mouth open in a bloody grimace. Talon's body trembled.

"A-Ashen…" he whispered, his paws gripping the shoulders of his lifeless friend, "A-Ashen! Ash! Please!"

Tears dripped from his disbelieving eyes as he tried desperately to wake the dead panther. The tribe looked on, though many turned and looked away. A buzzing sound had filled Talon's ears. Ashen's eyes were open, but they didn't see. They didn't see at all.

"Ash…" the chief hissed, the fur on his cheeks suddenly soaked with tears. His body convulsed with silent sobs.

A soft paw touched his shoulder – comforting and yet somehow sad. Talon looked up into the gentle grey eyes of his mate, Coral. The dusky-furred she-cat shook her head sadly and brushed his cheek with the soft pink pad of her paw. Talon thought his heart was breaking into pieces.

"There's nothing you can do for him," Coral murmured gently, her ears drooping in sadness, "He is with the spirits now."

Talon swallowed, his eyes shining with tears, and nodded. He gently laid Ashen's body on the ground and, with a shaking paw, closed the eyelids over his friend's staring golden eyes. Two cats lay side by side – united in death, covered in blood. Flyk looked so small somehow, his limp body stretched out alongside Ashen. Talon knelt beside them, shoulders shaking and chest aching.

"Forgive me," the chief whispered desperately, leaning forwards and pressing his forepaws into the dirt. His head hung between his shoulders, his tears dripping to stain the earth.

"I-I have failed you! Ashen…Flyk…" A sob wracked the chief's body, "Forgive me! I have failed you…"

Someone knelt next to him. He could tell from the sweet scent of her fur that it was Coral. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and he felt her bury her face in the crook of his neck. The sobs ceased wracking his body and comfort washed over him, his mate's heart beating against his fur. A silence had fallen. Talon's eyes felt dry and sore.

"Chief…?" a hesitant voice broke the silence.

Talon looked up, his tears drying on the fur of his cheeks. Coral hadn't let him go. The cheetah wondered just how pathetic he looked. For once that didn't seem to matter. The scouts were looking at him, their fur crusted with blood and their eyes dull with the memory of what had befallen them outside the valley.

"Sir, we've brought back news about the war…" one of the scouts offered hesitantly, strangely intimidated by his chief's grief, "You might want to hear it."

Talon wiped a paw roughly across his eyes and stood up, gently removing Coral's paws from around his shoulders. She respectfully stepped back, but remained eyeing him anxiously.

"Yes, the time for grieving is not now," the chief replied, more to himself than anyone else, "Tell me whatever news you can. I wish to know what information my warriors have died to bring back."

The scout who had spoken stood up, "As you wish, Chief Talon."

The chief hesitated before he looked back at the rest of the villagers and requested, "Prepare the bodies of the fallen. We…we shall burn them at dusk."

Without another word, only a last morose glance at Coral's sad grey eyes, the chief turned and led the scout away. As the two cats disappeared into the chieftain's hut, Coral helped several others to prepare the bodies of Ashen and Flyk for the funeral ceremony. The wounded scouts were led away to be treated for their injuries.

Through it all, a pair of cold yellow eyes watched in disgust. The owner of those eyes had made no move to help, even when the wounded scouts had staggered into the village. He had watched bitterly as Ashen died in Talon's arms, as the chief lamented his death in a moment of pitiful weakness. He was disgusted and angry.

"Chief Feral?" asked a voice beside him.

The yellow-eyed panther spun around and grabbed the speaker by the fabric of his tunic. His fangs glinted ivory as he bared them at the terrified panther who had dared to speak.

"Didn't I tell you not to call me that in public?" hissed the panther known as Feral, "What if someone hears?"

The smaller panther gulped, trembling in Feral's vicious grip, "F-forgive me, s-sir. It s-slipped my mind."

Feral snorted and released him in a shoving motion. His sickly yellow eyes glared hatefully at the hapless panther.

"Let's not let it happen again, then, shall we? I don't care how slippering your mind is, Coal, you will call me by that title only when we are alone. Are we clear?"

Coal nodded quickly, "A-as crystal, sir."

Feral scowled at the panther but didn't respond. Coal seemed to wilt under his glare. Several moments of silence passed before the timid panther dared to speak again.

"What are you thinking, sir?"

Feral folded his black-furred arms as he considered the wounded band of scouts, "You saw that shameful display didn't you, Coal? Talon is a disgrace to the name of chief! Only a weakling breaks down in tears in front of his subjects! He does not deserve to lead this tribe. And now, because of him, Ashen is lost."

"It was the apes who killed Ashen…" Coal dared to point out. Feral glowered at him.

"True, but it was that fool Talon who selfishly sent out the scouting party. He knows the world outside our valley is dangerous and yet he willingly sent our cats out there!" Feral gritted his ivory fangs, "If he were any sort of leader, he would have gone himself and died out there with them!"

"It would have made things easier for us…" the cold-eyed panther added softly, more to himself than to Coal. His thoughts towards Talon had been bitter for years. These times of war only strengthened those feelings.

"Ashen volunteered to lead the scout party," Coal pointed out, as though he was trying to defend Chief Talon. It wasn't that he wanted to defy Feral – he was terrified of the yellow-eyed panther – but rather that he felt uncomfortable insulting the chief of the tribe.

"Ashen was a fool!" Feral spat, his fur bristling angrily, "But he was still one of us…He would have turned the instant I asked him to."

A wheezy laugh interrupted them and the two panthers turned to see an old dark-furred cat limping towards them. Barren was the oldest cat in the village and he looked it. Once he had been a young, sleek and brave panther, but now his wrinkled body was old and grizzled, his fur greying with age. He leant heavily on his old crooked staff, his chipped yellow fangs showing in a wrinkled grimace. Feral wrinkled his snout in disgust.

"You still believe that, don't you?" old Barren wheezed, chuckling as he stopped in front of the two younger panthers, "Ashen may have been your brother, but there was no other cat in this village more loyal to the chief than he. He would have never turned his back on Talon."

Feral glared at the wrinkled old panther for a moment before he spat bitterly on the ground and growled, "What do you know, old one? You've become senile in your old age!"

Barren cackled loudly, a hauntingly high-pitched sound, "You should respect your elders, young one. We have a lot more to show from our time here on the earth. There is so much you do not know or understand…"

"And I suppose you do?" Feral snarled sarcastically, flexing his paws, "You're full of hot air, old one! There is nothing you know that I do not!"

The old panther gave a grizzled smile, "And yet it seems I knew more about your brother than you yourself did."

"You know nothing about Ashen!" Feral hissed. Coal shrank away from the panther's yellow-eyed glare.

"Sharpen your mind, young Feral! Or you shall never become chief!"

Anger flared in Feral's chest at those words. He unsheathed his claws and turned to glare hatred at the old Barren. The old panther didn't blink an eye. He seemed far from intimidated by the much younger, stronger panther.

"I suggest you leave before I sharpen my claws!" Feral spat, "On you!"

For a moment, Barren met the yellow-eyed panther's gaze without fear. Then the old panther cracked a grizzled smile and staggered, cackling, away. Feral snorted, sheathing his lethal claws once more. Coal watched as the old one disappeared out of the village, looking a little spooked.

"He sure is creepy," he muttered, rubbing his arms as though to ward off cold. When he stopped, the fur on his arms was standing on end.

Feral looked away, "He's just a senile old fool. He's harmless."

But Coal didn't seem to think so, "What if he tells Talon?"

Feral laughed humourlessly, "He won't. Barren may be an old fool, but he cares not who his loyalties lie with. He will not take sides, no matter the consequences. Whoever rules our tribe is not important to him."

"I hope you're right about that," Coal muttered under his breath. But though Feral heard him, he chose not to reply.

"Soon enough the time will come when we will take the village for our own," the yellow-eyed panther said instead, "And I shall be chief."

"But why wait?" Coal whined for what had to be the hundredth time. No matter how many times he asked, he was always given the same answer.

"We cannot afford to spark a war within our own tribe when the world outside is already ravaged and dangerous!" Feral snapped, eyes glinting, "I've already told you this! Until the beast they call Malefor has been dealt with, it is too dangerous for us to make our move. For now we sit tight in the safety of a 'unified' tribe. And when the time is right, we will make our move. Be patient, Coal."

"Sir," Coal agreed stiffly and said no more.

Feral glowered at the chief's hut and muttered under his breath, "It has been far too long since a panther was made leader of the tribe. I will change that."

Within the chief's hut, Talon was listening with grave interest as the cheetah scout relayed the information that the scouting party had gathered. For almost two years now, the world had been under the terrifying reign of the purple dragon known as Malefor. Four years ago he had been banished from the dragon temple, only to return two years later with an army of apes at his command. His anger had been directed at the dragons, but it meant war for every species on the earth. These were dangerous times.

"We headed for Warfang just as you suggested, sir," the scout told Talon, "through the passage in the mountains. We had never navigated that passage before and many times became lost in the maze of tunnels there. I don't think any of us realised just how many tunnels there are beneath those mountains that stand between us and Warfang. It took us several days to navigate out of the passage and all the while the feeling that we were being watched stayed with us. We finally reached the end of the passage last evening. However, we had been expected."

The scout broke off with a shudder and Talon leaned forward expectantly, frowning.

"Flyk had been so eager to see daylight, he…he just ran forward. And then…they just appeared. The apes came out of nowhere, springing from the walls and blocking the exit to the passage," the scout continue in a shaky voice, "they swarmed us, too many for us to battle. Ashen ran forwards as the largest ape, a huge brute, picked Flyk up like he was no more than a doll. But…there was nothing he could do. H-he stabbed Flyk through the heart and…threw him away. Ashen leapt at the beast, but…he wasn't strong enough. He just wasn't strong enough…"

The scout shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. He struggled to continue, his voice croaking. Talon's claws were digging into the arms of his wooden throne.

"We fled," the scout gulped, "back through the passage. The apes chased us but we were faster. Ashen had to be carried, his wounds were so great. It slowed us down, but the endless tunnels beneath the mountains gave us the cover we needed to lose the apes. It took us the entire night to navigate our way back to Avalar. And the apes…they must still be there, hiding in the tunnels, waiting for us to return…"

He closed his eyes and said no more, his mouth closed firmly as though the words he had just spoken had terrified him into silence. Talon considered him sympathetically for a few moments. He wished he could just tell the scout he was dismissed and that he no longer needed to strain himself to retell such a haunting tale. But that was not the case. The chief needed to know more.

"What can you tell me about the ape that…that killed Flyk?" Talon asked hesitantly.

It took several moments for the scout to respond and, when he did, he still did not open his eyes. His jaw moved stiffly, as though he had to force the words out.

"I can tell you only one thing, Chief Talon. This ape is the Dark Masters new general, he told us himself, and he will stop at nothing until his master has spread his rule all over the lands. We cannot hope to stop him."

"His name?"

The scout's eyes opened, "They call him Klor."

For a moment the chief was silent, lost in his own thoughts. Then he sat back in his throne lined with fur and said gravely, "Thankyou. You are dismissed."

Flames lit the evening sky, throwing embers like fireflies into the still dusk air. Tongues of fire lapped at the two bodies that had been laid upon the funeral pyre. The acrid smell of singed fur filled the air. Tears fell. Not a soul moved until the flames had ebbed and the bodies were no more than blankets of ash.

By then, night had fallen. In the light of torches of flame, Chief Talon and several of his most trusted cheetahs scattered the ashes of Flyk and Ashen over the swiftly flowing waters of the river. The current swept them away in swirling white pools of foam as the river continued on, into the night. Firelight reflected off the surface of the water. For a moment no beast spoke.

"May they be at peace with the spirits of old," Talon said at last, in a soft and even voice. A gentle breeze ruffled his short fur.

The chief turned back to his tribe, who were watching with eyes that glowed through the darkness. In this light, it was hard to tell who was panther and who was cheetah. For a moment Talon's eyes met Coral's and a soundless word of comfort was shared between them.

"With the passing of Ashen, we are in need of a new captain," Talon announced, "Ashen was a fine captain. He was brave, determined, and just. He will be sorely missed. However, out of his ashes, a new warrior will rise to the position of captain. A warrior known for his strength, bravery and fearlessness in the face of danger…"

Talon's gaze singled out a cheetah who stood in the crowd as he asked, "Swift, will you accept the position of captain?"

Swift, a dusky blue cheetah whose fur was dotted with black spots, stepped forwards. All eyes turned on him as he bowed and sank to one knee.

"It is an honour to accept this position, chief Talon," he said. A ghost of a smile hovered on Talon's muzzle.

"Then rise, Captain Swift," he instructed, "May you serve our tribe well."

With a regal nod and a bit of a smile, Swift stepped back into the crowd. Talon hesitated for a moment before he made his next announcement.

"There is another matter that I must draw attention to," he called at last, "A scout has informed me that the passage through the mountains to Warfang has been overrun by apes!"

A series of gasps and worried mutters followed this revelation. Talon raised his voice above the crowd, "Furthermore, I have been informed that Malefor has a new general – a beast known as Klor! While he and his apes continue to infest the mountain passage, our valley remains in grave danger! For now, it appears the apes have not navigated their way here! But if they do, we may be facing a battle which we can not win! It is far too dangerous for us to continue to use it as a pathway to Warfang! Therefore, in the best interest of us and the Valley of Avalar, it shall now be known as the Forbidden Passage! And it shall remain as such until the danger has passed!"

Talons voice softened as the muttering slowly stopped, "No beast, be he panther, cheetah or otherwise, is to set foot in the Forbidden Passage again. I shall be sending a team at dawn to seal off the entrance."

"But what about Warfang?" one cheetah yelled out, "That passage is our quickest way to the dragon city! Without it, we face several weeks travel over the harsh terrain of the mountains! If we cut off our route to Warfang, how are we going to get information about the war?"

Talon met the accusing eyes of the cheetah who had spoken, "We are safer without a direct route into our valley. And this war…it is not our war to fight. I understand that Malefor's reign of terror has affected the entire world, but we cannot hope to stop him. His quarrel is with dragonkind, not with us. In a war this dangerous, it is in our best interests to cut ourselves off from the world and ride out this storm. We cannot hope to fight, or our own species may be wiped from this world for good."

In the tense silence that followed, Talon murmured softly, "No more shall be said on this matter. You are all dismissed."

The crowd, buzzing with whispers, and still mourning the death of two of their own, slowly made their way back to the village. Talon watched them go, standing alone at the bank of the river. Or so he thought. Two cheetahs remained with him. Swift, the new captain, hesitated a while and left after giving the chief a respectful nod. But Coral remained.

The torches of flame had been carried away. Only moonlight illuminated the forest where the chief and his mate stood. Coral approached him slowly and took his paws in her own. They seemed so much bigger than hers were. Talon closed his eyes and let his forehead lean against hers. She closed her eyes and for a moment they stood in silence.

"Is this the right thing?" Talon whispered, "To cut our valley off from the world?"

Coral stroked his paws softly, "Maybe…maybe it isn't the right thing. But it is the best thing for us. The outside world is a dangerous place and this is not our war to fight. One day…one day we will be at peace again. But, until then, we will remain here – safe and unharmed. We will ride out this storm, just as you said. And, whatever happens, I will stay by you."

Talon's paws tightened around hers and he whispered, "Forever?"

A smile flickered across Coral's lips, "Forever."

Unknown to both of them, two pairs of cold eyes watched them from within the shadows of the trees. Feral's paws were tensed so fiercely into fists that they were shaking. Coal, who stood next to him, could almost feel the anger radiating off the fierce panther's body. It wasn't uncommon for Feral to get worked up, but tonight he seemed angrier than ever. That scared Coal, but he dared not leave Feral's side.

"The coward," Feral gritted out, his teeth clenched, "how dare he…sealing the passage like that…what sort of chief runs from war? Does he intend to _hide_ from the world? I cannot stand for that! I _will _not stand for that! Scared into submission by a bunch of apes…Talon is no chief."

"A-at least it will protect us," Coal suggested timidly. Feral's yellow-eyed glare turned on him and he quickly fell silent.

"Unlikely," the cold-eyed panther snorted, "Even without that passage, there are ways into this valley that I'm sure any beast could find and use. If Malefor truly wanted to wipe us out, he would find a way. That fool of a chief doesn't even realise this."

"But Malefor only wishes for the demise of the dragons, doesn't he?" Coal asked, confused, "Why would he-?"

"Who are we to expect what the Dark Master wishes?" Feral snapped and Coal shrank back in fear, "He may wish to take the valley for his own! That is why we cannot strike…at least, not yet. It is too dangerous."

"Y-yes, chief Feral," Coal mumbled quietly. Feral grunted in reply, inwardly pleased with the unofficial title that Coal had bestowed upon him. Soon it would be official; he would make sure of that.

"To think," Feral muttered bitterly, "that the next captain would be a cheetah. I should have been the obvious choice! Ashen's own brother! Me! But no, that Talon favours only his own species! Too long have we panthers been left on the sidelines! I will be chief! And panthers shall rule this valley once more…"

Coal stared at him with awe, "Sometimes you scare me, sir."

Feral snorted and turned away, "Come, Coal. We have a war to wait out. Hopefully, it should not be too long a wait."

As the two panthers disappeared into the night, another shadowy figure watched them leave. Old Barren, the crippled ancient panther, staggered through the shadows. His eyes were as bright as they had been in his younger days and his mind was no less sharp. Those keen yellow eyes burned through the darkness to Feral's retreating back.

"You wait out a war, young Feral, to start another," the old panther wheezed, leaning heavily on his battered cane, "No good can come of that."

Barren laughed wheezily, "But young ones never think of the consequences."

And the old panther limped away into the shadows of the night.

* * *

Several months passed by and life within the Valley of Avalar remained relatively peaceful. The Forbidden Passage had been sealed off and winter was fast approaching the valley. It was on a cold morning, when frost dusted the grass and leaves, that Chief Talon was to receive some unexpected but not unwelcome news. The beast known as Malefor had fallen. He had been sealed away in a place known as Convexity – a strange realm said to be an airlock between the Dragon Realms and the Dark Realms beyond.

With the sealing of Malefor, the dragon realms would enter a brief period of peace in which cities would be rebuilt, the dead would be mourned, and life would move on. However, this would not last forever. Three years after Malefor's fall, the apes would return – bitter and seeking revenge. What followed was to be a series of sieges, stalemates and massacres, in which the world was to become a dangerous place for any creature. Sanctuary would be found only within the walls of the great dragon cities or temples, where life functioned as normal. In these dark times, a new prophecy would be foretold – one that spoke of another purple dragon who would bring about an age of peace.

Within the walls of Warfang and the dragon temples, hatchlings would be born, new apprentices trained, and new guardians would be named. However, the apes would rule the world outside and the Dragon Realms would become a dangerous place where innocent travellers were slaughtered mercilessly and small villages were annihilated. Nevertheless, dragon life continued in safety behind their walls.

But that was all to change when a new ape rose to power. With the rise of the ape king Gaul, the raid on the dragon temple, and the loss of the new purple dragon upon whom so many hopes had rested, the dragon realms would enter into the darkest age of a war that had been continuing for almost a thousand years. And, until that purple dragon returned, the world would continue to spiral in chaos.

However, it would be many hundreds of years before any of this occurred. For now the dragon realms enjoyed their moment of peace, celebrating their greatest victory since the rise of the Dark Master Malefor, unaware of the events that would transpire over the next few centuries. But within the feline village of Avalar, tensions were already starting to rise.

"S-sir! You won't believe it!" the scout was gasping, bending over with his paws on his knees as he struggled to get his breath back. He had dashed all the way from the village to Talon, who had been standing by the waterfall.

"What is it?" the chief asked urgently, expecting something horrible. But he was gladly mistaken.

"H-He's gone!" the scout gasped out.

Talon blinked, uncomprehending, "Who?"

"Malefor! They're saying he's been sealed away!"

In a flash, Chief Talon had the gasping scout in a firm grip. He resisted the urge to shake the trembling cat, "Where did you hear this information? Who has told you this?"

"The falcons!" the scout didn't bother struggling against Talon's grip on his shoulders. He seemed far too excited to be bothered about anything. "The falcons passed by on their way to the northern mountains! They told us that the beast Malefor has been defeated! He is gone!"

Talon's paws trembled, "This…this is true?"

The scout cat's eyes were wide and earnest, "I heard it with my own ears. The Dark Master is gone from this realm!"

The chief's heart was thundering in his ears. For a moment he could only stand in shocked silence. Then his lips parted into the biggest, toothiest grin he'd smiled in ages. He released the scout, clapped him on the shoulder, and ran back towards the village.

"We must alert the village! They should all hear this!" Talon called, his heart soaring with sudden triumph.

"Right!" the scout stammered and staggered after him, still gasping for breath.

The first cat that Talon saw when he raced into the village was Captain Swift. He clapped the blue-furred cheetah on the shoulder, grinning wildly, much to Swift's confusion. Then the chief spotted Coral just behind the captain. He swept her into a hug, pressing his muzzle into her soft fur.

"Talon! What is-?" Coral stammered, shocked by the sudden gesture.

"He's gone!" Talon cut her off, his eyes aglow, "Malefor is gone!"

"Wh-what!" she gasped, her paws flying up to her mouth. But she had no time to question the chief. The scout was already dashing through the village, repeating Talon's words.

"Malefor is gone! He is gone from this realm! The Dark Master is gone!"

Soon the village was in an uproar. Cats were confused and arguing, sceptical and excited, unsure what to believe. Swift approached the chief with a serious look in his eye.

"Is this true, chief Talon?" the captain asked solemnly, frowning. For a moment there was silence. The whole village had stopped to hear the answer.

Then Talon spread his arms and announced, "It is the truth! The Dark Master, Malefor, has been banished from this realm!"

Cheers of victory, triumph and relief filled the air. Soon cats were hugging each other, exchanging triumphant handshakes and just being plain excited. But two cats didn't move an inch to join in the celebration. Feral looked as though he'd been turned to stone, standing at the edge of the village as he watched the commotion. Coal stood at his side.

"Did you hear that?" the smaller panther asked, his eyes wide.

A dark looked crossed Feral's face, "Oh yes. I heard."

Coal hesitated, "So…what now?"

A wicked grin cut across Feral's muzzle, giving him a sinister, almost deranged appearance, "Tell the others to meet at dusk at the Hollow."

"Sir."

Feral's eyes seemed to glow with a mad light, "Tonight is as good a night as any to plan a mutiny."

The rest of the day was spent in celebration for the feline tribe. The world had been freed from the terrorizing grip of the Dark Master and the war was, as far as anyone knew at the time, finally over. The Forbidden Passage, Talon decided, was to remain sealed off until he deemed it safe to unblock it. It would likely be many months, he told Captain Swift, before he would authorise the unblocking of the passage – just to be safe.

Nevertheless, the cheetah chieftain had decided to send out a scouting party in a few days time, in an attempt to make contact with Warfang and assess the state of the outside world. It would be an arduous journey over the mountains, but Swift volunteered without hesitation to lead the party.

But while the tribe celebrated and their chief made plans to make contact with the dragons, the skies darkened as evening fell and a mob of dark-furred felines gathered deep within the valley. Under the light of flaming torches and the glow of the celestial moons, Feral observed his panther subjects as they gathered before him. The last rays of sunlight were sinking below the horizon by the time everyone had gathered.

With sickly yellow eyes, Feral observed his domain. They stood at the base of a great tree, a tree that had been growing for many, many centuries. It rose far above any other tree, surpassed only the magnificent mountains that surrounded the valley. The roots of this great tree spread for many yards, rising near the trunk like great living walls of wood.

Nestled between these huge roots, where the soil was damp and fertile and a vast canopy shrouded the earth in shadow, was a place known to the panthers as the Hollow. It was here, for many years, that Feral had called his panthers to mutinous gatherings in which the fall of chief Talon was slowly plotted. They had been waiting, ever so impatiently, for the moment when they could finally act. And that moment was now.

A soft buzz of chatter filled the Hollow this evening, excitement spreading through the crowd like never before. But Feral was not content to wait for their attention. He had been waiting far too long for this.

"SILENCE!" the cold-eyed panther roared. For many, this tactic would not have worked on a crowd so large. But no beast dared to rebel against Feral's word. His voice alone struck fear into his subjects. A sudden hush fell over the throng of panthers.

Feral paced in front of the crowd, standing high upon the roots of the tree so that he was elevated far above the rest of the panthers. This was a mark of his dominance and no beast dared encroach upon that. Even Coal, who was seen so often at his frightening master's right hand, dared not stand up there with him. Instead he stood at the base of the huge root, his arms folded in an attempt to look intimidating as he resisted the urge to crane his head up to look at his master.

A soft flame torch burned behind Feral's back, turning him into little more than silhouette, save for his glowing yellow eyes. Those eyes swept unmercifully over his throng of subjects. At last he halted his pacing and stood rigid before them, gazing coldly down.

"I am pleased to see you have all gone to the trouble of showing tonight," was the first thing Feral said, "After waiting so long to turn our words into actions, I had half expected some of you to forget who your loyalties lie with…"

His cruel eyes swept over the crowd and many gulped nervously. But Feral didn't bother singling anyone out and continued with barely a hesitation.

"But by coming tonight, you have all proven yourselves loyal to myself and to your race. All of you are now part of the greatest plan that any panther has ever plotted," Feral's eyes glinted, "Part of a plan to take Avalar in the name of the superior race – panthers!"

"I'm sure you have all heard the news," he continued, before the crowd could get too fired up, "The beast known as Malefor, the dragon who has been terrorising the world as we know it for these past few years, has fallen! The world has been freed from his grasp and no longer is there a danger to our valley from the outside forces of he and his Dark Army of apes! And now the time has finally come! It is time to show that fool Talon that it was not danger from outside that he should have feared, but danger from within his own tribe! It is _us_ he should fear!"

A scream of triumph; excitement rippled through the air and the earth. Feral's mouth twisted into a cold, triumphant sneer. But he did not wait to let the panthers work themselves into a frenzy.

"But before we get carried away," he called, quieting the rowdy throng, "we must remember the plan we have been plotting for so long! There is much work to be done. You, my faithful panthers, may be loyal to me, but the rest of the tribe will never desert that disgrace of a chief. In a head-on war, our numbers are almost even." Feral's voice turned grim, "Many lives would be lost. Far too many for any victory to even be satisfying."

"We will not rush blindly into this," he snarled and a thrill shuddered through the dark crowd, "we have waited for far too long to mess this up! Talon himself is the only cheetah that need die. Those closest to him, too, may die, but no more! We will cut off the head and the body will crumble. The tribe will be ours to mould and shape as we see fit, and panthers shall rule the Valley once more. Talon's death is imminent."

"For now you must remain alert and wary. Should any cheetah catch wind of our plan, they are to be slaughtered immediately. I trust you all to remain loyal to me," Feral bared his fangs in a threatening grimace, "or your lives, too, shall be forfeit. Until I and my most trusted warriors have taken care of Talon, no further action should be required from the rest of you. If we pull off this plan smoothly, Avalar will be ours with hardly a drop of blood spilled. Perhaps, if you are lucky, many of you won't have to even lift a claw. Tomorrow, we at last shape our words into actions! Talon's end is near."

For a moment there was a hushed silence and then the crowd exploded into raucous cheers and hooting calls of excitement. Feral nodded in triumph and turned to Coal, who was still standing stiffly beside the huge tree root.

"Coal," Feral snapped over the sound of the crowd. Coal craned his head upwards to meet his master's gaze. "Bring my Assassins to me."

A cruel smile caused Feral's fangs to glow red in the firelight, "We have a hunting party to organise."

Talon couldn't remember the last time he went on a friendly hunting trip with his friends and allies. Likely it had been almost three years ago, before the world had been plunged into turmoil by Malefor. So when Feral, the brother of the late captain Ashen, had suggested it, Talon had easily agreed.

The agreed upon hunting ground was to be the section of the valley upstream beyond the waterfall. Deer often grazed up there amongst the trees and were a fine meal for many a feline. Talon picked out two cheetahs to accompany him – Captain Swift and a young apricot-furred cheetah by the name of Sunspot, or as everyone called him, Sunny.

Feral didn't go alone. He brought with him two panthers, his most trusted allies. Unknown to Talon, these panthers were two of six felines known as Feral's Assassins. They were swift, deadly, and loyal only to him. Had Talon known, he would have been less eager to take up the offer. But the valiant cheetah chief had never dreamed, even in his worst nightmares, of mutiny within his own tribe. He had no idea.

"A fine morning for hunting," Swift observed, shading his eyes against the pale morning sun. A chill wind had struck up, but the sun had since melted much of the frost that had dusted the grass.

"It's cold," Sunspot whined, rubbing his arms and causing his apricot-coloured fur to stand on end. The young cheetah was only wearing a short green tunic, which left the rest of his furry body open to the chilly wind.

Talon clapped him on the shoulder, "You'll warm up once we start the hunt. At least it isn't snowing, eh, Swift?"

A smile tugged at the captain's whiskery mouth. Sunspot turned vibrant golden eyes on the chief, "It would be cool if it snowed, even if it was cold. I've never seen snow before."

"But then we wouldn't be hunting, would we?" Talon's eyes twinkled.

Swift resisted the urge to roll his eyes, which would have been a very un-captain-like thing to do, "It never snows here, Sunny, even in the dead of winter."

"It did, once," Sunspot protested, "Barren said so."

A deep throated chuckle answered that claim as Feral and his two panther comrades approached. Talon turned to greet them, completely unaware of the scheming gleam in the panther's cold yellow eyes.

"Old Barren claims he once saw a phoenix, though everyone knows they went extinct thousands of years ago," Feral said smoothly, with a wry smile that didn't reach his eyes, "He is a weaver of tales. Very _tall _tales. You would be wise not to listen to him, young Sunspot."

Talon held out a respectful paw by way of greeting, "You picked a fine morning, Feral. It should be a good hunt."

Feral took the offered paw, ignoring Sunny's protests, "It has been a while since we last hunted for sport. You and my late brother, Ashen, used to make a habit out of it, no?"

A look of sorrow passed briefly over the chief's face, "We did. Before the war began, that is. Ashen is…greatly missed."

Talon missed the dark look that crossed Feral's face as the panther replied silkily, "My brother died a hero. We will honour his memory with this hunt."

Feral gestured to the two panthers that stood stoically behind him, "My two comrades. They respectfully requested to accompany us. Soot and Shade, in case you do not recall."

The cheetah chief considered the two stiff panthers. He hated to admit it, but many of the panthers looked quite the same to him. These two were no different. He could hardly find any differences between them, save that the one on the left – Soot – had one yellow eye and one blue eye. Shade's were both deep blue.

Talon bowed respectfully, "You are quite welcome to join, Shade and Soot. Swift and Sunny shall also be accompanying us. Shall we begin?"

Feral hefted his javelin, a thin and yet lethal looking thing that flew as straight as an arrow when thrown correctly. The entire thing was made of bone, honed to a thin point sharper than the head of an arrow. But who or what the bone had belonged to was a mystery to Talon.

"We shall," the panther replied.

By the time they reached the upstream waterfall, Sunny was having second thoughts.

"I'm starting to wish I hadn't asked to come along," the young cheetah muttered as he gazed up the looming cliff face, down which torrents of water were loudly roaring. There were vines growing close alongside the waterfall. Using those vines as footholds, the hunting group faced a tedious climb up the cliff face to reach the top of the waterfall. Beyond that, the hunting grounds awaited.

"Come on, Sunny, it's not that bad," Swift protested, tugging on one of thick vines to test its strength, "It's a tricky climb, but it wouldn't be any fun if it was easy, would it?"

Sunny muttered something that sounded like 'says you' and reached for the nearest vine with a disgruntled expression. Shade and Soot were already hauling themselves up paw over paw to the top of the cliff. They moved like swift shadows and reached the top within moments. Feral bowed respectfully to Talon.

"After you, chief," he said, successfully keeping the contempt out of his tone.

Talon flashed the panther a smile before switching his attention to the young apricot-furred cheetah. He gestured upwards, "Up you go, Sunny."

Sunspot grimaced but climbed anyway. For a reluctant cheetah, he was a remarkably good climber. Apart from a few stumbles and getting his paw caught in the vines at least once, Sunny reached the top without any mishaps. He waved back down to Swift and Talon.

"Shall we?" the captain asked the chief, and together the two cheetahs hauled themselves up the cliff face. Feral followed up behind, his spear strapped to his back, with noticeably less grace than his assassins had managed.

The small band of cats continued along the bank of the river, leaving the roaring waterfall behind. The trees were thick and lush here, but every now and then they would open out into small glades where emerald green grass lay underfoot. They knew that deer often grazed in these parts. And, sure enough, at the edge of the next clearing, Talon held a paw up for silence.

"Halt," he whispered and everyone froze. As silent as a wraith, the cheetah chief crept to the edge of the trees and peered out into the glade.

An elegant golden-brown creature was grazing peacefully in the centre of the clearing, completely unaware of the cats. Its legs were long and slender and its body seemed built for speed. Upon its slender, graceful head was a pair of elegant horns that seemed to branch off like the twigs of a tree.

Talon glanced back at his hunting party and held a paw up to his mouth before gesturing silently at the deer. Sunny craned his head to get a good look, standing on tiptoe in an attempt to see over the bushes. Talon met Swift's eye and the captain nodded wordlessly. Without a sound, the chief drew his bow.

With agonizing slowness, Talon drew an arrow from his quiver and notched it to his bow. The deer's ears flicked towards their hiding place, but it did not look up. Talon drew the bowstring back and took aim. Everyone, even the trees, seemed to hold their breath. The deer's ears flicked again and it froze for a second.

Suddenly Sunny's paw slipped and a twig cracked beneath his foot. The deer's head shot up and it dashed into the bushes as Talon's arrow thudded into the tree behind it, missing it by barely a whisker. The chief gave a cry of frustration and, before anyone could stop him, he crashed into the bushes after the deer. The undergrowth swallowed him up in seconds.

"Chief!" Swift yelled, hefting his spear and dashing after Talon. And then he too was gone.

Sunny stared in disbelieving shock, "They…left without us."

The young apricot-furred cheetah made no move to follow them, merely staring anxiously into the bushes across the clearing. He stepped out into the glade and looked around, "So much for that."

Behind Sunny, the three panthers glanced at each other. They had hardly moved when Talon and Swift had dashed after the deer. Feral had been waiting for this chance to separate the cheetahs. It was time to act. Wordlessly, he nodded at his two assassins. They returned the nod stiffly and strode forwards without so much of a sound. Sunny didn't even hear them approach.

In one swift movement, Soot drew his dagger from within the folds of his cloak and slipped the cold, poisoned blade between the young cheetah's ribs. Sunspot went ridged and then dropped without a sound. His small body hit the grass with a muffled thud. Feral strode over and nudged the cheetah his foot. Sunny didn't stir. The panther glanced contemptuously at the body and stepped over it.

"Come," he said to Shade and Soot, "let us put an end to this _chief_."

Talon let another arrow fly while he was still in mid sprint. His aim would have been perfect, if the deer hadn't moved at the last second. It cut sharply to the right and was swallowed up by the undergrowth and, for the second time, Talon's arrow thudded harmlessly into a tree. The chief skidded to a halt, resting his paw on that same tree, panting heavily. He stared into the bushes after the deer, but it was long gone.

"It got away," Talon puffed between strained breaths. His heart was beating rapidly, but already was starting to return to its normal pace with every deep breath the cheetah chief took.

Talon yanked his arrow out of the tree just as Swift caught up to him. The captain lived up to his name – he was as swift as the wind and almost as graceful.

"Chief," Swift panted, coming to a stop and looking around, "What happened?"

"It got away," the chief repeated for Swift's benefit, and inspected the head of his arrow. Despite having made contact with the hard bark of the tree trunk, it was still intact. He returned it to its quiver.

"That's a shame," Swift said, his grip on his spear loosening, "But you shouldn't have given chase like that. In these woods, anything could happen," he gave Talon a wry glance, "and the village wouldn't be very pleased if I returned without their chief."

But Talon laughed it off, "Don't be so serious, captain! What could happen? I'm just disappointed I missed that deer. Just a whisker to the left and I would have –"

At that moment the bushes beside them rustled ominously and Swift held up a warning paw to cut the chief off. Talon froze in mid sentence and the two cheetahs stared apprehensively at the trembling bush. Then, to their astonishment, a small furry creature popped out from within the leaves.

It had a large bushy tail that curved upwards over its back and two pointed ears with tufts of reddish-brown fur splaying from the tips. The creature pattered around on the floor for a moment before proceeding to clamber up the nearest tree.

"A squirrel," Swift said blandly, relaxing. Clearly he'd been expecting something more menacing.

Talon couldn't resist a grin, "I doubt we could feed the village with that. Not even a kitt-"

"Look out!" Swift roared suddenly and threw himself at Talon.

The two cheetahs fell back into the undergrowth as a thin spear pierced the tree that Talon had been standing in front of. The squirrel shot up into the canopy like an arrow from a bowstring as the spear hummed in protest against its sudden stop. Swift and Talon scrambled upright.

"What-?" Talon managed to gasp, before he caught sight of the being responsible – the being the spear belonged to.

Feral strode out of the bushes, looking a little annoyed and flanked on either side by Soot and Shade. Both cheetahs were too stunned to stand up as the panthers approached.

"You have quick reflexes, _Captain _Swift," Feral said bitterly, contempt dripping from his voice as he drawled the word 'captain'.

"Feral! What is the meaning of this?" Talon cried, stunned and confused, "Did you just…?"

"Try to kill you?" Feral yanked his spear free from the tree, "Yes."

With a howl of rage, Swift hurled himself at the panther. But Soot and Shade blocked his way and he was forced to dance backwards to avoid their lethal blades. The captain had a nasty feeling that those daggers were poisoned. He held his spear out in front of him, blocking the swift cut that Soot had aimed at his side. Shade attacked from the other side, forcing the captain further away from his chief.

With Swift occupied, Feral was free to turn his attention on the chief. Talon was slowly standing up, his paw groping blindly behind him for his bow, which had been lost in his fall. He was glad of the weight of the blade that hung from his belt. At least he was armed.

"Don't struggle," Feral said smoothly, raising his spear, "you'll only prolong the inevitable."

"Why are you doing this?" Talon cried, paw still searching the undergrowth for his bow, "What do you have to gain from my death?"

"Gain?" Feral laughed coldly, "Only leadership over the entire Valley of Avalar and the rest of the tribe! I've been waiting far too long for the time when panthers would rule this valley! Too long have you cheetahs been in control! I will change that once and for all – starting with your death, you pitiful excuse for a chief!"

Talon's claws closed around his bow at last and he surged back to his feet just as Feral struck down with his spear. In one quick movement, the cheetah chief managed to block the panther's blow, locking his bow beneath the spear. Talon thrust upwards, causing the panther to stagger backwards a step or two.

"I trusted you," Talon said through gritted teeth, "You planned this all along, didn't you? Why? Revenge for your brother's death, perhaps?"

A brief spasm of anger crossed Feral's face, "My brother? Ashen? He was a fool! He showed he was a disgrace to the name of panther when he chose to follow you! I had hoped he would join me and help me to…_remove_ you from power. But instead he is dead! And yet, had he refused my offer, he would have died none the less." Feral's eyes darkened, "by _my_ hand."

Talon's eyes widened in horror, "You would have killed your own brother? How…why are you so intent on my death?"

"You do not deserve to be chief!" Feral roared, showing his fangs, "Not you, not any cheetah! I will be chief and my panthers will rule this Valley! And when I return to the village bearing your lifeless body, your foolish cheetah followers will have no choice but to bow to me!"

Talon ground his teeth together, "So you did plan this. You intended from the very start to kill me on this hunting trip. It was all a ploy."

"You catch on quickly, chief Talon," Feral smiled dangerously, once more raising his spear.

A sudden horrible thought struck Talon at that moment, "Sunny! What have you done with Sunspot? Where is he? Did you harm him?"

"That pitiful cub should be the least of your worries," Feral spat, "At least I was merciful…"

For a moment Talon was hopeful, before he heard the panther's next words.

"…his death was quick and painless."

Talon uttered a sort of strange, shrieking howl – a cry filled with both anger and grief – and hurled himself at Feral. The cheetah used his bow to knock the panther's spear out of the way, drawing his sword from his belt at the same time. Feral barely managed to avoid the chief's blade, staggering away with a cut in his upper arm from which ribbons of blood were beginning to flow. The panther snarled and clapped a paw to the wound.

"You monster," Talon hissed, deadly anger lacing his tone. His eyes, usually a calm deep blue, had darkened like storm clouds over the ocean. "How could you kill an innocent kid like Sunspot? He wasn't even fully grown! He never even had a chance! H-how could you…?"

Feral blocked Talon's blade with his bone spear and for a moment they were locked in combat, glaring eye to eye, "His death should rest on your head, Talon! If you hadn't brought him along, I would have never needed to kill him! If you surrender now and accept your death like a true warrior, no more need die uselessly! How many more need die for you, Talon, before you are satisfied?"

"Don't pretend you're in the right, Feral!" Talon snarled, "Nothing condones the killing of innocents! The lives of all those who die will rest on your shoulders! How many need you kill before _you _are satisfied?"

A wicked, almost insane smile flashed across the panther's muzzle. He leaned close and hissed, "Only you and your captain."

Talon roared in rage and tore his blade away from Feral's spear. He cut the air so close to the panther's chest that his blade sheered a gash in his tunic. But it barely touched Feral's fur. The panther retaliated so quickly that Talon didn't have time to dodge. He howled in pain as the spear of bone cut into his shoulder, tearing a deep gash and gushed dark blood over his arm. Feral raised his spear for another strike.

"Stop!" Swift snarled suddenly, slamming into Feral and causing the panther to stumble to the side. His next spear thrust missed Talon by inches. Somehow the blue cheetah had managed to evade Soot and Shade for the moment, but the two assassins were coming up behind once more.

"Run!" Talon howled, clutching at his wounded shoulder, "Run for the village! Alert the tribe!"

"It is a captain's job to stay with the chief even in the direst of circumstances!" Swift yelled back, turning to block a strike from Soot's poisoned blade, "I will not leave you here to be killed by these mutinous bastards!"

Talon knew there was no arguing with the captain. Looking around frantically, the chief's eyes fell on a nearby branch that had long fallen from the tree it had once belonged to. The cheetah lunged for it, ignoring the burning hot pain as Feral's spear cut a gash along his thigh.

The bough was almost as thick as Talon's body, but he heaved it up anyway, ignoring the copious amounts of blood pouring from his wounds. His body strained under the weight of the branch as Feral ran at him.

"Swift!" Talon howled. The captain took one look and dove to the side just as the chief hurled the bough with a scream of rage and pain. It crashed into Feral and he was thrown back into his assassins, sending all three of them tumbling head over heels. There was a crash as the bough snapped in two and both sides thudded into the undergrowth with the panthers.

"Run!" Talon screamed at Swift and they dashed back towards the waterfall. The cheetah chief knew that would have bought them some time, but Feral and his assassins wouldn't stay down for long.

They crashed through the undergrowth, ignoring the pain of wounds, aware that their enemies could already be hot on their tails. The trees opened out into a small glade, and suddenly Talon's paws caught on something and he crashed to the ground. Swift skidded to a halt as the chief slowly picked himself up, trembling. He turned to look at what he had tripped over.

Talon's gaze met a pair of staring, lifeless eyes, gazing up at him from the face of an apricot-coloured young cheetah. There was a large patch of wet blood on Sunny's tunic that had bled into the grass. His face was fixed in an eternal expression of shock. Talon raised a shaking paw to touch the dead cheetah's forehead.

"Oh spirits…" he whispered, his whole body quaking. A nauseous feeling welled in his stomach as his whole body turned very hot and then suddenly very cold. Sunspot's lifeless eyes seemed to stare into his very soul.

"Chief!" Swift yelled, breaking him from his stupor, "We must get back to the village! We cannot stop! We…we can come back for him later! Quickly, Chief Talon! We must go!"

Talon tore his eyes away from Sunny's corpse, "Y-yes, we can't stop."

He didn't trust himself to look back as he dashed into the bushes and continued. That nauseous feeling stayed with him, but he dared not look back. The sound of something else crashing through the bushes behind him told him that Feral and the assassins were catching up.

"Go! Go!" Talon yelled as the waterfall neared. He could hear the roaring of the falling water getting louder by the second.

"The waterfall!" Swift yelled as it came into view. Droplets flew from the top of the waterfall, creating a small, pale rainbow.

There was a whistling sound as a small blade shot past their heads and stuck point first in the ground. Soot's blade. Talon gestured frantically for Swift to run.

"Go!" he yelled over the sound of the waterfall, "Get to the village and bring help! I'll hold them off! Go! Go!"

"No, chief! I will not leave you here!" Swift protested, but Talon would not hear it.

"Run! Or we'll both die!" Talon yelled and gave the captain a hefty push. Feral and his assassins burst from the bushes.

With a last hopeless glance at the chief, Swift turned and swung himself over the side of the cliff. He dropped down to the ground and landed cat-like on the bank of the river before jumping up and dashing for the village.

"Attack!" Swift howled, beginning to wheeze, "At the waterfall! Chief Talon! Panthers! Attack!"

The blue-furred cheetah didn't need to say much else. That seemed to have got the message across and instantly a stampede of cats met him halfway from the village. He spotted Coral in the confused crowd and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"What's going on? What happened?" she cried desperately, her eyes wide and fearful, "Where is Talon?"

"The waterfall," Swift wheezed and then raised his voice to alert the whole crowd, "The waterfall!"

Almost half the village raced down to the waterfall with Swift and Coral at the heart of the crowd. There were cries of shock and fear as they reached the waterfall, prompting Coral and Swift to push their way forwards to the front. Coral's paws flew to her mouth as she took in the scene.

Talon stood at the top of the waterfall, his back to the cliff as he faced a trio of panthers who were slowly pushing him backwards. He appeared unarmed and there was blood gushing from his leg and shoulder. The biggest panther, Coral recognised him as Ashen's brother Feral, raised his spear and struck.

"Talon!" Coral shrieked, and heard Swift scream at her side.

"Chief!" the captain yelled in alarm.

Talon took one too many steps back as Feral thrust with his spear, and his feet met nothing but air. With a yelp of shock, the cheetah chief fell back over the cliff and was caught by the roaring waters of the waterfall. The spear missed him, but there was an almighty splash as Talon hit the river and was lost amongst gushes of white foam. The cheetah disappeared completely beneath the fast moving waters of the river and the watching crowd cried out in fear and alarm.

"Talon!" Coral cried again, dashing to the edge of the river. Swift ran forwards, as though he was ready to dive in after the chief.

But then Talon's head suddenly broke the surface and he was revealed soaked and gasping for air as the river dragged him along. Swift leaned out precariously and grabbed the chief's paw as he was swept passed. The captain was almost dragged in too, but Coral quickly steadied him and helped him pull the bedraggled chief back to the bank.

Talon coughed and gasped for air as he was dragged back onto dry land. Blood had tinged much of his left arm and leg bright red, and was still gushing from the wounds. For several moments he laid gasping and coughing on the ground, supported by Coral and Swift as most of the village crowded behind them. At last he was able to breathe again and he opened his eyes, blinking droplets away, to find Coral staring at him with worried eyes.

"I'm ok," he managed to stutter, wincing, "I'm alright."

Swift stood up and turning towards the waterfall. He raised an accusing paw to Feral and the other two panthers, who had been standing stiffly at the top of the cliff. Feral looked far from pleased.

"You!" Swift yelled accusingly, "You tried to murder our chief! Traitors!"

Howls of outrage from the rest of the crowd followed this remark and soon many picked up Swift's cry. "Traitor! Traitor!" they yelled, punching the air with whatever weapons they had or, if they had none, their bare fists.

Feral stared coldly down at them, his fist shaking in fury. Talon was still alive and now he was surrounded by most of his tribe. There would be no chance of taking his life now, not without severe bloodshed from both his cheetahs and Feral's panthers. Then, to Feral's shock, panthers began to pour from the trees, heading for the crowd of cheetahs. The cheetahs turned to face the black cats, brandishing weapons and ready for a fight.

"Stop! What are they doing?" Feral yelled in alarm as a battle began to break out down below. The cheetahs had formed a protective ring around Talon and Coral.

"It was agreed that, should things not turn out according to plan, our warriors would intervene," Shade replied in a dull, monotone voice.

"I did not authorise this!" Feral snapped angrily, gripping his spear so tight that his knuckles turned white beneath his black fur.

"We thought you would be pleased," Soot replied in that same monotone, though his voice seemed slightly silkier, "We have taken the cheetahs by surprise."

"Pleased? My subjects are dying!" Feral yelled in protest as he watched cats fall one by one, "I thought I made it clear that open warfare was not our best strategy! By the end of this, there won't be a tribe for me to lead!"

"What will you do, chief Feral?" Shade asked smoothly, apparently unmoved by Feral's anger and disapproval.

"STOP!" Feral roared over the crowd, "Retreat you fools! Retreat! Do not fight! Retreat to the Hollow!"

For a moment it looked like no one would listen to him, but then the panthers began to back away and disappear into the trees from whence they had come. The cheetahs yelled accusingly after them, leering and firing arrows into the bushes. Swift turned to glower at Feral and the two assassins as the last of the panthers fled.

"You will not harm our chief again," Swift called angrily, "traitor."

Feral snorted and turned away, "Come, both of you! We'll take the long way back to the Hollow. You all need a lesson in following orders…"

Soot and Shade exchanged glances, looked once more down at the angry crowd of cheetahs, and then turned to follow their leader. Swift glared up at their backs until they disappeared from view.

"What were you _thinking_?" Every beast jumped as Feral slammed his fist into the large, wall-like tree root with a loud hollow thud.

The furious panther paced in front of his followers, gritting his teeth in anger and resisting the urge to lash out at the closest cats. Those in the front row tried not to cower.

"I thought I made it clear," Feral hissed through his fangs, an emphasis on every word, "that open warfare was not an option! If anything, it will be a last resort! And yet the instant I turn my back, what do you do? You disobey my orders and attack the cheetahs head on! What – were – you – _thinking_?"

He suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the nearest panther by the throat of his tunic, pulling him so close their noses were almost touching. The cat trembled and tried not to whimper.

"Do you have any idea how many cats could have been killed had I not called you off?" Feral hissed, "Keep pulling stunts like that and there may not be a tribe for me to lead anymore!"

He shoved the hapless panther away and whirled on Coal, "How many casualties?"

Coal hesitated, "Uh…"

"How many?" Feral roared, spittle flying from his jaws.

Coal winced, "Six, sir."

Feral ground his teeth together and looked back at the cowering crowd of panthers. "Six," he spat, a bitter look on his face, "Six in a single, short battle. Do you see now why open warfare is _not_ – _an_ – _option_?"

There was no answer, other than a few frightened nods from those in the front row. Feral snorted and winced, clapping a paw to his side. Hesitantly he took that paw away and glanced at it. The normally soft black pad was slick with blood. His blood. Feral scowled. Somehow, Talon had managed to score a hit without him even realising.

"Are you wounded, sire?" Soot asked in his strangely blank, monotone voice. He and the rest of the six assassins were lined up behind him, with Coal.

Feral clenched his bloody paw, "It's nothing. But we need a new plan. Today may have been a miserable failure, but I will not quit until Talon is dead."

"What will you do, chief Feral?" Shade questioned softly.

The ambitious panther turned to the crowd and gave his answer to them, "We may have failed today, but the night brings about new opportunities – opportunities that only we as panthers can grasp. We will attack the village tonight, whilst Talon is wounded and the village is in disarray. Under the cover of night our black pelts give us the advantage. They will never see us coming."

"But, sir…" Coal began, only to be cut off.

"But nothing!" Feral snapped, "The sooner we strike, the less prepared the cheetahs will be! Talon is injured now! We attack him before he and his village have the chance to recover! I don't want to mess this up again! Therefore," he swept an angry gaze over the watching crowd, "all of you shall play a part. My assassins will take down the guards under cover of darkness, stopping them from alerting the village. Talon's hut will likely be guarded, too, and I'm willing to bet that foolish captain, Swift, will be there. He too will be a victim to my assassins. With the guards down, I shall infiltrate the chief's hut and put Talon to rest before he has a chance to wake."

"Meanwhile, the rest of you will infiltrate the village and create a barricade around each hut. The cheetahs will have no choice but to surrender once we have them surrounded and imprisoned in their own homes. They will have no choice but to bow to me once Talon is dead! Then, yes, then I shall be chief!"

Feral glowered at his followers, "Is that clear?"

"Sir…" Coal tried again, but trailed off when Feral shot him a venomous look.

"We attack tonight, Coal. With the night on our side, we cannot lose."

Coal looked away, "…yes, sir."

Once the bedraggled and wounded chief was supported back to the village, a small group was sent out to recover Sunspot's body. Swift went with them and returned cradling the lifeless young cheetah in his arms. It broke Talon's heart to see the young Sunny robbed of life so suddenly. First Flyk, and now this. He had thought the war was over when Malefor's fall had been announced. He could not have expected this.

They burned Sunspot's body before dusk fell and scattered his ashes in the river, as had been done for Ashen and Flyk several months previously. Talon's wounds had been bound and his fur had long dried from his soak in the river, but the wounds in his soul were still open and bleeding. He felt broken. His own tribe had betrayed him – there was not a panther in the village now. They had all disappeared with Feral.

How? How could they just desert him like this? Was he not worthy a chief?

No, perhaps he was not.

Talon didn't know who to trust. As the evening wore on he found himself staring blankly at the skies, wondering where he had gone wrong and how. Only a few days ago the village had been full of celebrations. But now they were mourning the death of one of their own and wondering when the panthers would strike again. Talon frowned. When would Feral strike again?

Wordlessly, the chief stood up from his seat beside the well and strode towards the village gate. The guards were making sure that no beast went inside or out of the village. It was deemed too dangerous now that the panthers had been revealed as traitors. But that wasn't going to stop Talon.

"Chief Talon!" Captain Swift called as the cheetah chief approached, "Is something wrong?"

But Talon shook his head, "Dusk is falling. I think it's time I paid a visit to an old friend of mine."

Swift frowned, "It's far too dangerous for any of us to be wandering around out there, especially you, chief Talon. With all due respect, I think it's best that you stay in the village for now."

"This is important, Swift," Talon replied calmly, placing a paw on the captain's shoulder, "I won't be long."

"Sir, you are wounded," Swift argued, "What if Feral and his warriors attack you again? You stand no chance against them in this state!"

"Feral is wounded too. For now, he and his panthers are not a threat. I will return before darkness falls, you can count on that. And, Swift, I must ask you not to follow me. The friend I am going to see is a little temperamental. He will speak only to me."

"Chief…" Swift tried again to talk reason into Talon, but the cheetah chief was already walking away. The captain watched with disapproval and worry as Talon strode down the path away from the village, a limp in every step.

"Captain Swift?" one of the guards asked, "Will you go after him?"

Swift hesitated, "No. He wouldn't leave this village if he didn't know what he was doing. He will return."

'_At least, I hope so.'_

Talon travelled quickly – that is, as quickly as he could with his injured leg. The sun was setting quickly and he was not foolish enough to be caught outside in the dark night where enemies could be lurking in every shadow. But no sooner had the village been lost to sight behind him, did the chief meet with interruption.

A dark-furred cat had sidled out of the trees and now stood in front of him, stooped over and leaning heavily upon a gnarled staff. It took one glance for Talon to recognise this creature as a panther, and he was instantly on guard. But a second glance revealed the panther for who he really was.

Talon straightened and hesitated before he strode over to the crippled old cat. Barren raised his greying head and revealed his sharp yellow eyes. A shiver ran down the chief's spine.

"Why are you here, old one?" Talon asked carefully, stopping a mere metre away from the old panther.

Barren raised a shrivelled grey paw, "The question, young chief, is why are _you_ out here? Only a fool leaves the safety of his walls."

"I came to see an old friend of mine," the cheetah replied guardedly, eying the old cat suspiciously, "But what of you? Why do you block my way?"

The old panther gestured to the space either side of him, "I block no one's way. It was you who chose to stop."

When Talon didn't reply, Barren continued in his wheezy voice, "The valley is divided. Feral's ambitions will mean the end of this tribe. Even you cannot lead us to victory."

"How can you know that?" Talon asked with a sigh, "I will not give up on my tribe, no matter what happens. Feral will never rule this valley."

Barren considered the cheetah for a moment, his sharp eyes glowing in the fading light. A strange aura seemed to surround the old panther – dark and yet wise, somehow. For a moment, Talon believed that the old cat knew far more than any other creature in this world could ever learn.

"No one can win this war," Barren murmured, "A thousand years from now, the great divides between our races will still remain. Even you cannot save this tribe. And yet…"

Slowly, the old panther raised his paw and pointed towards the very tops of the trees, "…you must have _courage_."

Talon turned his eyes to the sky, somehow compelled to do so by Barren's pointing claw. For a moment he saw nothing but the swaying tops of the trees and the golden light that washed the underside of the clouds. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a golden-orange bird appeared. Like an arrow of flame it shot across the sky, leaving tendrils of fire curling behind.

_Courage._

Then, as quickly as it had come, the fiery bird disappeared. It faded into the sunset, leaving not even a wisp of smoke behind. Had he imagined it? Talon could not be sure. But when he turned to question Barren, he too was gone. Maybe, Talon thought, he had never even been there.

The chief stood for several moments, the image of the burning bird forever etched into his memory. It mattered not whether it had been real or not. Somehow, it felt as though his very soul had been set aflame.

"Courage…" Talon murmured gently to himself.

The last light was fading by the time the chief reached his destination. He stared up at the old oak tree, peering into the dark hollow in the wide trunk. For a moment there was nothing but shadows, but then a pair of wide golden eyes shone through the blackness.

Talon smiled, "It's been a long time…old friend."

They moved as silently as the shadows in the night, with movements as fluid as liquid darkness. In the shadows of this moonless night, the cheetah village had no idea they were surrounded. Two dark shapes crept towards the guards standing at the gates without a single sound – not even a paw-step.

In two fluid movements, the dark figures thrust their blades into the unsuspecting guards, who fell without a sound. Stepping over the body, the two panthers slipped into the village, followed close by another two figures. All was quiet. The night was cold and still.

The four panthers headed straight for the largest hut in the village, where a slim figure could be seen standing guard in the darkness. The guard didn't move, no doubt unaware of the silent intruders. Feral had a feeling he knew who the guard was.

The panther leader met the cold eyes of one of his assassins and nodded. The assassin, Soot, crept towards the guard. Like a living shadow, Soot sidled to the cheetah's side and slipped his blade between his ribs. The guard, presumably Captain Swift, crumpled in silence.

As Feral approached the now unguarded door, he glanced expectantly at his three assassins who had accompanied him. Shade nodded once and drew something glowing from the pocket of his tunic. He held it high into the night sky, where it glowed, surrounded by a halo of faint red light. It was the shard of a crystal, one of many that naturally grew in the valley.

The panthers surrounding the village recognised the signal and poured through the front gate or clambered silently over the walls. They surrounded each hut, weapons in hand, and waited for their leader to make the next move. With a satisfied smirk, Feral slipped into the chief's hut.

It took a moment for the panther's eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the hut. But when they did, he could just make out the shadow figure curled up on the bed of moss, fur and reeds by the wall. The cheetah chief was asleep. A cruel smile lit Feral's face.

Striding over to the sleeping Talon, the cold-eyed panther raised his lethal bone javelin. For a moment Feral was frozen in that pose, the spear held high, ready to plunge into Talon's unwitting flesh. The chief didn't wake.

"You lose, Talon," Feral hissed in barely a whisper, "The spirits await you."

Feral threw all his weight into the thrust as he plunged his spear deep into Talon's sleeping body. The spear sank into his flesh with satisfying ease, pressing into the bed beneath. Then there was silence.

Heart pounding in his chest, Feral slowly pulled his spear free. The lump on the bed that was Talon didn't move. Taking deep slow breaths, Feral stepped away. A grin began to etch itself onto his face.

"I…I did it," he hissed as his grin became wider and wider, "I did it! Talon is dead! The valley belongs to me! I have killed Chief Talon!"

Feral threw open the reed mat that covered the doorway as he yelled his triumph. But the words died in his throat as his eyes met those of someone unexpected just outside. Firelight from somewhere illuminated the cheetah's face and caused the blade of his sword to glitter like flame.

"You were saying?" Talon hissed.

Feral stumbled backwards in shock, hardly able to believe his eyes. Here stood the chief, as alive as ever.

"You! But…no…I killed…" Feral stammered, eyes wide and stunned, "HOW?"

Talon took a step back from the doorway and gestured to the ground, "Why don't you take a closer look at the so-called guards you slaughtered?"

Feral eyed Talon suspiciously, but sidled forwards and glanced towards what he assumed to be Swift's fallen body. But that wasn't what he saw. In the light of the fire, a limp sack could be seen upon the ground with broken branches sticking out the bottom. From a hole in the side, dried reeds were spilling out. A dead shrub poked out the top, no doubt to serve as a head. Feral was stunned.

"I-impossible!" he stammered, whirling around, "The guards at the gate?"

Talon nodded, "And inside my hut too. I should applaud you, Feral. You've successfully managed to murder four bags of reeds."

Feral remained as stiff as a rock for several moments before a cry of pent up rage tore itself from his throat. He charged at Talon with spear in hand, but his blow was blocked by the cheetah's sword. Staggering backwards, the panther screamed out to the rest of his allies.

"Don't let the cheetahs escape! Keep them surrounded! Kill Talon! Kill the chief!"

But nothing happened. Talon smirked.

"Look again, Feral," he said almost mockingly, "It's _you_ who are surrounded."

The dark-furred cat froze and at last took in his surroundings. The firelight was coming from all around the walls, where the cheetahs were holding both torches and weapons, their faces full of triumph. Feral's panthers had huddled in the centre of the village, facing outwards with weapons pointed towards the surrounding spotted cats. Shade lay dead at Talon's feet. The panther gaped wordlessly.

"How…H-HOW?" Feral yelled at last, as his eyes rolled wildly, "How could you have known…?"

"I'll admit it," Talon said smoothly, holding out one arm, "you almost had us this time, Feral. You might have succeeded, had it not been for the watchful eyes of an old friend of mine."

There was a flurry of feathers and suddenly a strange creature flew down to perch on Talon's outstretched arm. Feral stared. It had sleek brown feathers dusted with tiny black spots and was only about as thick as Talon's upper arm. But it had a sharp cruel beak and lethal curving talons. A pair of huge bright gold eyes seemed to fill up the bird's entire face.

"An…owl?" Feral gaped.

"That I am," spoke the owl in a haughty tone, "and a far more honourable creature that you will ever be, panther."

Feral ground his teeth with anger as Talon spoke, "Thyme has been a great help to us. Without his great night vision, we would not have been able to thwart your plan."

Thyme the owl rotated his head until it was almost upside down. He blinked slowly and deliberately before he said in that same tone as before, "You panthers are fools to think that you own the night with your scruffy black coats. But it is we, the owls, who truly own the night. My eyes can penetrate even the deepest of shadows."

With that, the small owl took off and disappeared with a few silent beats of its wings. Feral clenched his fists, but said nothing. Talon spread his arms wide.

"So, what now, Feral?" the chief asked, "Are you going to try to kill me again? Or are you ready to admit defeat? Do not start a war. We can settle this now, put it all behind us as nothing but a bad memory. But you have to accept that you will never be chief of this tribe. So, what will it be, Feral?"

The panther hardly hesitated before he spat bitterly on the ground and snarled, "You must be a fool to think I'd surrender so easily, _chief_! I will rule this valley, no matter the consequences!"

"Then…you leave me no choice," Talon sighed heavily and hefted his sword, "We end matters now."

Spear met sword with a brief spray of sparks as Feral rolled out of the way and made a dash for the gate. He leapt over Talon's feet as the cheetah attempted to trip him up, slashing blindly behind him with his spear. The surrounding hoard of cheetahs closed in, but Feral was quick to rally his panthers. They may have been surrounded, but their numbers were nigh on even.

"Make for the gate!" Feral roared, "Break through the ranks!"

"Stop!" Talon yelled as the panthers moved as one, heading towards the main gate and the wall of cheetahs that blocked it. He dashed to intercept Feral, but was forced to defend himself when Soot appeared out of the shadows and attempted to attack. With a thrust of his blade, Talon pushed the panther assassin away.

But the panthers were already on their opponents, breaking through their defences in their desperation to escape from the village. Talon saw one, no, two cheetahs fall as the panther hoard battled ferociously to escape. Feral was at the very front, slashing and stabbing wildly with his lethal bone spear. At last he broke through the ranks and dashed out onto the path outside the gate. The other panthers pushed to follow him.

"Stop!" Talon yelled again, knowing it was hopeless, "Let them go!"

Though confused by the chief's order, the cheetahs stepped aside and allowed the throng of panthers to pour through the gates and flee the village. They followed Feral into the shadows of night, leaving only the dead and dying behind. Talon limped to a stop at the gate, his shoulders drooping as he watched the black cats disappear.

"They're gone," he sighed, letting his sword arm fall to dangle limply at his side.

"Good riddance," muttered Thyme, who had flown to perch on the top of the wall. The owl rotated his head both ways and ruffled his feathers, "Wouldn't want bad rubbish like _them_ hanging about."

Talon shook his head and turned around to view his village. The cheetahs were standing around, confused by the sudden end to what had almost been a battle. There were a few bodies lying upon the ground – four panthers and two cheetahs. Another two innocent lives lost, Talon mused.

"Get some sleep," the chief announced gently to his village, "Thyme and I will keep watch. We will clean up this mess when morning comes."

Only Swift argued, as was expected. While the rest of the cheetahs retreated to their huts to rest, the captain insisted on keeping watch beside his chief. All through the night they stood side by side, guarding the village in case the panthers decided to return. Thyme's eyes penetrated the darkness. But Feral and his panthers did not come back that night.

In the morning, however, the true war for the Valley of Avalar would begin.

* * *

It continued for months; an endless barrage of battles after battles, some of which lasted for days on end. Feral had long since given up his attempts to assassinate Talon without the use of open warfare. Over time he almost lost sight of his true wish to be chief of the valley. His reasons all rolled into one – a burning desire to destroy Talon and everyone he held dear.

As cheetah and panther were pitted against each other in battle after battle, the once magical valley slowly began to deteriorate. Whether by fire or blades, great sections of the valley were utterly destroyed in the vicious clashes between felines.

Many lives were lost as a result of these battles, both panther and cheetah alike. The once impressive numbers of the feline tribe slowly dwindled as this war claimed life after life.

And still, neither Feral nor Talon backed down. This was to be a fight to the death, even if the whole valley died with them. It was only on one afternoon, when summer had finally returned to the valley and the days were almost unbearably hot, that things began to change.

On blood splattered ground void of all vegetation, a weary army experienced a brief moment of relief from the heat of battle. Two sides faced each other from across the sparse earth, from which grass had long been burned away. Feral knelt in the dirt, panting in the heat of the afternoon, his fur matted with blood and dust.

Of the thirty panthers he had led into battle, only ten remained. Once again, Feral had tried to take the village by force with only a small band of his best warriors. And once again they had been pushed back. The battlefield was strewn with corpses; the bloodied bodies of the cats that had died in this bitter fight.

Across the way, Talon and Captain Swift stood with a guard of nigh on forty cats. The chief was never left unguarded and now, thanks to Feral's recklessness, they outnumbered the panthers greatly.

Talon spread his dusty arms, his chest heaving with effort, "Do you give up yet, Feral? Leading such a small army to attack us like that…have you no compassion? These sneak attacks have never worked in your favour! You are leading them to their deaths!"

Feral snarled and surged back to his feet, "Many have died, Talon, and many will continue to die until you are standing at the dark gates of hell! My warriors and I will do anything to see you fall, no matter the consequences. You can continue to resist, but sooner or later you and your guards will fall."

"Try as you might, you will never succeed," Talon replied coldly, flexing his sword arm.

Feral laughed and spread his arms wide, exposing his bare black chest. His tunic had been almost completely torn away, revealing the slick fur beneath.

"If you're so confident, why not kill me now?" the panther laughed mockingly across the battlefield, "My warriors are weary and outnumbered, and I am wounded. Come, Talon! Why not end me now, while you can?"

The cheetah chief could see the panthers behind Feral notching arrows to their bows. No doubt they would fire as soon as he made a move towards their leader. But Talon was angry. He'd had enough. He was sick of the constant battles and the deaths – too many deaths. He wanted to end it. Now.

"Chief!" Swift yelled as Talon charged across the blood-stained battlefield towards Feral.

A battle cry ripped itself from his throat, without him even realizing. Feral met him halfway, spear and sword in hand, as arrows were let fly from either side. Cheetah and panther clashed in the centre of the battlefield, barely missing being skewered by the arrows that shot passed them and pierced the dusty earth. The panthers rushed to help their leader as Swift led the cheetahs to back up their chief.

Blow after blow was exchanged, blood splattered the ground, and battle screams rent the air. Talon and Feral locked blades for an instant and their eyes met for that brief moment.

Hate.

Fury.

Determination.

Their blades shrieked as they were wrenched apart. But before any more blows could land, a strange wind swept through the battlefield and stopped every creature in his tracks. A heavy, unsettling aura had descended upon them. Heads turned, their eyes drawn to a single figure walking slowly through the dust, skirting around the bodies of the fallen. A tattered old cloak wafted in the breeze.

"This battle must end."

Barren's old voice penetrated the silence, mingling with the air itself. Feral and Talon involuntarily backed away from each other and turned to face the old panther. The ancient cat stopped in front of them and held out his wrinkled old paws, pads forward.

"The consequences of your actions in this moment will affect the world for many hundreds of years to come. This battle must end."

"End?" Feral scoffed, "This battle will end when Talon is dead and the Valley of Avalar is in my hands. What happens in the future is not my concern. And I doubt even you could know what the world will be like hundreds of years from now. Stop wasting my time, old one."

But Talon hesitated. Barren had said similar things before, several months ago when this whole war had only just started. The cheetah chief tried to remember the old panther's exact words.

"The divides will still remain…a thousand years from now," Talon mumbled to himself. It had been something like that.

The cheetah frowned. Was it possible that Barren _could_ see the future?

"Step aside before I kill you along with these miserable cheetahs," Feral snapped at the old panther, brandishing his sword menacingly. Barren merely looked at him.

"You efforts in this war are meaningless," he wheezed, "you will never rule this valley, no matter which path you choose. It is not your destiny to be chief of this tribe."

Feral's paw began to shake as his grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. "Destiny?" he spat, "You dare to stand here in the middle of our battle and blabber about _destiny_? Destiny does not control my life! And neither do you!"

"Then your descendants will carry the weight of your failure!" Barren replied in an icy cold whisper.

Something snapped in Feral's mind upon hearing those words. With a snarl of anger, he lurched forward and slammed his blade through Barren's chest, ignoring the cry of horror from the watching cheetahs.

"No!" Talon yelled, too late. Barren went ridged as the blade pierced straight through his body, protruding out the other side in the centre of his back.

Feral wrenched his sword free seconds later, ignoring the blood that stained the blade. Barren remained standing for a moment, his paws creeping towards the gaping hole in his chest. Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, he crumpled. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, sending up a cloud of dust that made Talon's eyes water.

"Believe whatever you want, old one," Feral spat, with a contemptuous glance down at the dying ancient panther, "you won't be here to see me triumph over this valley."

"You-!" Talon snarled as he made to strike Feral down. But the panther blocked his strike and ducked out of the way, running for the trees.

"Retreat! This battle is over!" Feral yelled to his remaining warriors, who now only numbered eight. They didn't argue.

Talon watched them go, his shoulders trembling. Feral stopped at the edge of the trees, eyes burning with hatred as he looked back at his enemies.

"You won this battle, Talon. I will win the war."

And then he was gone, leaving only the cheetahs to stand in a dusty, blood-stained field and a dying ancient panther lying broken upon the earth. When Talon turned back to the others, he found Swift kneeling beside Barren. The old panther coughed blood as he mouthed words the cheetahs could not hear. Talon knelt down too and bent closer.

"A…thousand years…" old Barren wheezed, "the apes…will rule. The…Dark Master…returns."

Talon frowned, "What are you talking about? Malefor and the apes are gone for good. It's Feral and the panthers we need to worry about now."

Barren's eyes rolled in his head, "Th-the apes…will return. Dangerous…world. Panthers…gone from this valley. We cannot win."

The chief shook his head sadly, "I do not understand, old Barren. The apes disappeared with Malefor. They aren't coming back. And the panthers? Gone from the valley? Are you saying that we are going to win this war?"

The old panther's paws groped for Talon's tattered tunic, pulling him closer, "There is no victory…when the divides…remain."

Talon gulped, but didn't try to pull away. His eyes watered, whether from sadness, fear or just the dust that had been kicked up in the battle, he didn't know. Slowly, Barren's grip loosened and fell away. His head lolled, blood dripping from his mouth, but Talon heard his last words like a faint whisper on the wind.

"Have…courage…"

Barren's final breath rattled from his throat and his chest sank inwards never to rise again. Blood pooled in the earth beneath his body. Closing his eyes, Talon backed away from the corpse. Captain Swift glanced at the chief.

"What did he mean the Dark Master is going to return?" the blue-furred cheetah asked, "I thought the dragons took care of Malefor."

"So did I," Talon replied heavily, "but perhaps we were wrong."

Swift frowned and glanced at the dead panther, "You think he was telling the truth? Do you really think that old panther could tell the future?"

Talon was silent for a moment as he gazed down upon Barren's corpse. In some ways, the old panther had always frightened him. He'd always been strange, from the very moment when Talon could first remember meeting him as a young cub. But, in other ways, Talon had admired him. He was wise, wiser than any other creature the young chief had ever known. And he'd always had the most amazing stories to tell. Talon had believed it as a cub and he still believed it now – Barren had truly been able to see the future.

"Barren was no ordinary cat," the chief said solemnly, "I discovered it in my early years, when I was but a young cub. Barren had a gift, you see. A very strange gift that few cats have ever had the privilege of wielding. They, my father and my grandfather, that is, called it the Sight. But, it was as much a curse as it was a gift."

"I'm not sure I understand, sir."

Talon shook his head, "Neither did I, really. But those who had the Sight could see things – things that were going to happen, things that were meant to happen…even things that _could_ have happened. It was a precious ability, but those who could wield it would inevitably become slaves to their visions and, eventually, would descend into madness."

"Like Barren," Swift murmured quietly.

Talon nodded, "Yes. Like Barren. But at least now he is free from those visions. I pity the next creature damned to be burdened with that curse."

In the silence that followed, the chief turned to his captain and announced, "I think it is time we ended this war. It's been going on for too long. Day after day we wait for Feral to attack and then push him back again. It's time we took matters into our own hands and ended this battle once and for all."

"You have a plan then?" Swift asked.

"It is not much of a plan," Talon said, with a strange sad smile, "but perhaps…I can still save this valley. Come now; let us return to the village. And bring Barren with us. We will burn him with the rest of our fallen. It's the least he deserves."

"You _what_?" Swift slammed his paws down on the table, making Coral jump. But Talon didn't even flinch. The captain's claws curled inwards, scratching the wood. "Have you even thought about this? About what might happen if…"

"I know what I'm doing, Swift," Talon replied stiffly, "Haven't there been enough deaths? If I can end this with a single one-on-one battle, imagine how many lives will be spared. I won't allow the rest of my tribe to be slaughtered when I have the power to stop it."

"And what if you lose?" Swift protested, still leaning on the table, "What then, chief? We bow to Feral?"

Talon looked away, "I have to try, at least. If I win, the panthers can rejoin our tribe and we can put this whole business behind us and move on. If I lose, then so be it. It's that or die fighting, Swift."

The captain gritted his teeth and shook his head, "I can't agree with this decision, Talon. You're betting the lives of our whole tribe on the outcome of a single battle. And if you lose, Feral will rule over this entire valley. Under his leadership, we may be little more than slaves! I'd rather die than bow to him!"

Talon surged to his feet suddenly, a spark of anger in his eyes, "And you'd condemn the rest of the tribe to death? There will be no end to this if we continue on this path! The valley is being destroyed, innocent lives are being lost! I can end this, for better or for worse! Would you deny me that chance?"

Swift hesitated, "I…no…I don't…"

The captain trailed off, robbed of words. Talon took a deep breath and let out a stiff sigh.

"I will battle Feral to the death," he said with conviction, "and end this war once and for all."

Swift looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat as he replied, "So be it."

Coral, who had been sitting in silence with the two cheetahs, glanced from chief to captain and back again. Her eyes were worried and full of a tired sadness, as though she had already seen the fate of her tribe. But in truth, all she had seen was death. Many of her friends had been lost to these battles and now she feared she would lose Talon too.

"I wish you didn't have to do this," she whispered softly. Talon turned to her, words of protest forming on his lips. But those words died when he saw her face. Her eyes were filled with tears and she couldn't even look at him. Sadness seemed to radiate from her body, like a dampened aura in the air.

"I wish none of this had happened," Coral sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek, "I wish no one had died. And I…I hope I don't have to say goodbye to you, too, Talon."

"I have to do this," Talon said gently, placing his paw against Coral's cheek and lifting her gaze to meet his, "No matter the consequences, I will fight to save my tribe."

Swift turned away. Coral stared up at the chief, her mate, and blinked as tears rolled down her face.

"And you will die for your tribe?" she asked, her voice thick with tears.

"If that is what the spirits wish," Talon sighed, "then yes."

Coral shut her eyes against the tears, but that didn't stop their flow. They matted the fur on her cheeks and dripped from her chin, an uncontrollable flow of sadness. She took a deep shaky breath.

"I don't want you to do this," she whispered, voice hitching, "I don't want you to die for us. I want you to live, to stay with me forever. I-I want to say that I don't care if Feral takes over the valley! Just as long as you're still with me! I don't care what happens! I just…want you to stay with me…"

Talon ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the moisture from her tears. His eyes were unusually bright, but there were no tears this time. It was time to be a strong leader. He couldn't afford to cry. Coral opened her eyes again, those brilliant liquid silver eyes.

"But I know," Coral sniffed, placing her paw over his, "that you have to do this. I know. And I know I'm being selfish. But please…come back to me."

"I'll come back," Talon promised softly, "whatever happens."

Coral closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, the soft pad of his paw comforting against her tear-stained cheek. She smiled sadly, "I love you."

Talon didn't reply with words. Instead he bent forwards and kissed her, putting as much thought and meaning into that gesture as he could. He could smell her tears, feel every tremor in her delicate body, sense every emotion flowing through her heart in that moment. There was sadness in that gesture, but there was love and that was all that mattered.

'_This won't be goodbye._'

A dusty wind swept across the empty, barren field. The entire panther army gathered nervously behind their leader as Feral shed his old cloak. Talon stood with arms folded, wearing a simple short tunic and nothing more. The entire village watched anxiously from the other side of the river, but a small guard remained at the chief's back. Swift shifted edgily.

"You got my message, I presume?" Talon asked stiffly.

Feral dropped his cloak in the dust and Coal hurried to pick it up. The panther rolled his shoulders, black fur swaying in the breeze. There was a long blade at his hip and a new spear in hand. This new spear was different than the old one, sporting several added spikes around the head almost like a mace. It wasn't made for throwing.

"I did," the panther replied with a cold smirk, "your little bird friend made it quite clear what you wanted."

"Do you accept the conditions?" Talon asked, stiffly keeping his composure, "This is to be a battle to the death. The survivor will take the title of chief and rule over this valley and all who reside in it. There is to be no interference from either side. Once the new chief is named, there is to be no more fighting. Understood?"

Feral flexed his paws, "I accept. By sunset today, I will be chief."

"Don't go placing any bets," Swift muttered bitterly behind the chief. A smile tugged at the corner of Talon's mouth, but anyone could see that he was nervous.

"A maximum of two weapons may be used, but poisonous weapons are banned," he continued, "have you chosen?"

Feral hefted his spear and patted the sword at his hip, "I've got all I need right here."

Talon's own choice of weapon was to be his sword, a thin and handsome blade, and a simple ash staff. With the staff held by the strap strung across his back, he was free to wield his blade. The cheetah chief stepped forwards, away from his guards. Across the field, Feral did the same.

"To the death; no interference," Talon repeated, swallowing his fear. Feral's eyes were glinting with eagerness, waiting for it. Talon glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Swift nod stiffly. The captain was just as nervous as he.

Swift raised his paw, "Begin!"

Talon had been right to expect no moment of hesitation. In most one-on-one battles he had ever seen or participated in, the two opponents would often circle each other, searching for weaknesses and planning a strategy. But Feral was too eager. The instant the word rolled off Swift's lips, the panther dashed across the field with a wild scream.

There was a screech of metal as Talon ducked and parried Feral's spear with the blade of his sword. Face to face with one of the lethal spikes on the spear, Talon couldn't help but notice how slick and shiny the ivory was. Clearly Feral had spent many hours honing this piece of bone to perfection. Talon's heart pounded. That spear was every bit as deadly as its owner.

The cheetah chief tore his blade away from the spear, narrowly managing to sidestep away before the bone weapon could pierce his flesh. As Feral staggered and recovered from the missed strike, Talon turned a graceful half-circle and aimed his blade at the back of the panther's neck.

But Feral ducked out of the way just in time, losing the tip of an ear to the blade, and aimed a strike at Talon's unguarded ribs. The cheetah pushed hard against the dusty earth, propelling himself backwards, but didn't manage to escape the spear. Its bone thorns sliced three jagged cuts in his tunic and scored a pair of shallow scratches in his skin. They burned like fire, but did little more than distract the cheetah warrior.

Talon dodged another strike, this one being aimed at the side of his head, and once more locked his blade against the spear. There was a horrible scraping sound as bone and blade met, but only for an instant. Talon shoved outwards, catching Feral off balance, and thrust with his blade.

The panther only just managed to evade the strike, sucking breath in and shying away from the sword. But the blade managed to tear his tunic and nicked a small wound in his side, which instantly began to bleed. Off balance, Feral was forced to stagger away from the cheetah as Talon continued with several more quick jabs that the panther only just managed to dodge. The black feline managed to skirt a thrust aimed for his chest and sidestepped around his cheetah adversary, swinging his spear at Talon's leg.

The thorns of the spear struck Talon on the edge of his thigh, tearing several deep gashes. The cheetah chief couldn't hold back his screech of pain. One of the tiny bone thorns broke off and remained lodged in the wound as the two warriors staggered away from each. They faced each other, panting, blood leaking from various wounds.

"Is…that all, Talon?" Feral hissed, his ear flicking with irritation as blood from the severed tip rolled down into it. The nick in his side was bleeding freely, staining his short brown tunic.

Sticky blood ran down Talon leg as it shook under his weight. The cheetah gritted his teeth and tried to block out the pain. The scratches under his breast burned like fire, but they were nothing compared to the wounds in his thigh.

"Hardly," the chief managed to pant, raising his sword. Focusing his thoughts, Talon dashed towards his adversary once more, sword held high.

Feral sidestepped to avoid the blow, but Talon whirled and cut the air in a wide arc. His blade sliced clean through several of the spikes on Feral's spear, much to the panther's aggravation. Twisting the spear so that the remaining spikes were facing his opponent, Feral swung his spear like a mace.

Talon ducked, hearing the weapon hiss over his head, and kicked out at Feral's unguarded feet. The panther staggered and almost fell, managing to catch himself just in time. But the cheetah took that moment of distraction to attack, scoring a hit along Feral's spear arm. The panther howled in pain, but managed to stagger away before Talon could do further damaged.

Blood ran freely down his black fur and dripped from his wrist to pattern the earth. Feral panted, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Talon's injured leg shook under him, threatening to give out. On the other side of the river, the cheetahs watched anxiously. Coral had clasped her paws together as though in prayer. She could hardly bare to watch.

Feral's eyes flickered down to Talon's injured leg and then back up to his eyes, so quickly that the cheetah didn't even notice. Suddenly the panther charged and hurled his spear like a boomerang, straight towards the chief. Shocked, Talon barely managed to avoid the spinning projectile. The spiked head hit his shoulder and cut into his flesh, knocking the cheetah off balance, before it hit the earth and skidded to a stop. Without even stopping his charge, Feral drew his sword and ducked low, sticking his leg out.

Talon hit the ground as his good leg was knocked out from underneath him, leaving only his injured leg holding his body weight, which it was unable to do. A cloud of dust arose as the chief hit the ground and there was a sudden commotion from both sides of the field. The cheetahs yelled in dismay and fear, while the panthers cheered raucously.

"Chief!" Swift yelled. Talon opened his dust-stung eyes in time to see Feral raise his blade, reading to plunge down into his chest. Coral squeezed her eyes shut and looked away. She couldn't watch this.

But as Feral plunged the blade down, he found himself striking only earth. Talon had rolled away and was now on his knees only inches away, reaching for his fallen sword. His ash staff had come lose from its strap and lay on the ground never Feral's feet. With a howl of rage, the panther charged his kneeling opponent.

Unable to reach his sword in time, Talon dived out of the way of the strike and grabbed his staff. He raised it just in time to block Feral's blade. Eye to eye, nose to nose, they faced each other, hearts pounding. Feral's blade inched closer. Talon's arms shook with the effort to hold it back. His heart felt like it was about to fly out of his chest.

"You…will…" Feral snarled through gritted teeth, "…die!"

Talon's eyes widened. Faces flashed before his eyes. His friends, allies and loved ones. Coral's face shimmered before him, her vibrant grey eyes piercing his own. And then, in the sky above Feral's head, Talon could have sworn he saw a bird shoot through the clouds like an arrow of flame. Strength coursed through his body.

"No!" Talon roared and thrust upwards with all his strength. Feral staggered back as the cheetah surged to his feet, ash staff in hand. With a single strong strike, Talon sent Feral's sword spinning out of his grasp. The blade thudded into the dirt several meters away. Feral's eyes widened in disbelief.

"You…!"

"I'll never lose to you!" the cheetah howled and swung his staff once more. It caught a blow to the side of Feral's head and the panther staggered, colours bursting behind his eyes. Another strike hit his ankles and sent him crashing to the ground.

Talon threw his staff aside and picked up his blade, which was now at his feet. Feral pawed dust from his eyes and scrambled away, looking wildly around for his sword or his spear. But they were too far away for him to reach and now Talon stood over him, sword raised high above his head.

The cheetah's stormy blue eyes burned into the sickly yellow ones of his enemy. Feral's heart felt like it had stopped beating. Cold fear flooded his veins. Death was only a sword stroke away.

"This is for all those who have died because of you, Feral," Talon hissed, "I hope the spirits have mercy on you, because I will not."

"N-no! No!" The panther whimpered, still trying to scramble away in the dirt, "P-please!"

Talon plunged his sword down. But the blade never struck Feral. Instead an arrow flew from the ranks of panthers and slammed into the cheetah's shoulder, causing him to stagger backwards and drop his sword. There was a stunned silence as Talon raised a paw to the arrow lodged in his shoulder. He looked up and saw a single panther standing at the head of the crowd, a bow held strongly in his paw. Coal.

A cry of outrage ripped through the air from the watching cheetahs. Swift was shrieking with fury.  
"Traitor! Cheat! There was to be no interference!"

Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Feral was already scrambling away on all fours. He pushed his way back through the ranks of panthers, clawing at his own warriors in an attempt to get away from Talon. The cheetah chief yelled as he saw his opponent escaping.

"Stop! Feral, you coward!" Talon bellowed, still holding his shoulder, "This is a fight to the death between us! You cannot run and hide behind your followers! Come out and fight! You're willing to kill, but you can't _die_ like a warrior? Disgrace! Coward!"

But Feral hardly acknowledged Talon's outraged words. He was already running, pushing his way through the crowd, his eyes wild and terrified.

"Run!" he howled, "Retreat! Retreat you fools! Out! Out of this valley! Run! Run!"

"But, sir!" Coal protested in the confusion. However, Feral was beyond reasoning. He was terrified.

"Run!" he screeched, clutching Coal by the shoulders. The smaller panther opened his mouth to speak, but uttered no words. Instead he looked down to his chest, and the bloody arrow that protruded from it. Coal gaped wordlessly for a few moments, blood bubbling in the back of his throat, and fell like a stone.

Arrows flew thick and fast from the pack of cheetahs, felling panthers where they stood. Feral turned and fled, the rest of the panthers hot on his heels. Talon turned on his heel and dashed back towards Swift and the guards. He spread his arms wide, ignoring his injuries.

"Stop!" he shouted, "Stop shooting!"

Not bothering to notice whether not his orders had been obeyed, Talon snatched the bow and arrow from Swift and spun around. He took aim at Feral's retreating back and drew the bowstring taught, the arrow quivering between his fingers. Heart pounding in his chest, Talon swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to fire. But something held him back. Something was stopping him.

Dare he kill a fleeing, unarmed coward?

Talon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remind himself of who this fleeing coward was. This was Feral, the very same panther who had killed so many and caused the incidental deaths of even more. No cheetahs had been spared from his merciless claws. Talon's heart was beating so erratically against his chest he thought it might fly out. Feral was a murderer.

But, he was still a living being. As much as Talon to end him, to avenge those who had been killed, to garner his own revenge, he could not. He wanted to shoot this arrow, but his heart would not let him. No, he was not a murderer like Feral was.

'_Everyone…_' Talon's paws trembled, as did the arrow and the bow, '_Sunspot…Barren…_'

A tear trickled its way down his cheek. Slowly, he let the bowstring go slack. The arrow dropped harmlessly to the ground between his feet. Talon's shoulders shook.

'…_I'm sorry._'

The panthers, all of them, were disappearing one by one into the forest. They were headed, no doubt, for the passage through the Western Mountains, a harsh and unforgiving path that was one of the only ways out of the valley on foot now that the passage to Warfang had been blocked off. Not a single black cat lingered behind, save for those dead and dying in the dust. Talon let the bow fall from his nerveless hands.

"Sir?" Swift approached him hesitantly, "Should we pursue them?"

Talon was silent. He may have won the battle, but had it really been a victory? The panthers were leaving, every last one of them. The once strong feline tribe was but a shadow of what it used to be. The cheetah closed his eyes and remembered Barren's final words.

'_There is no victory when the divides remain._'

"No," Talon sighed, "Let them go."

His eyes opened once more and he beheld the last of the panthers disappear from view – the last living panther he would ever see again.

"There is no place in this valley for traitors and murderers."

**A/N: And that's a wrap. I'm surprised you made it all the way down here. I hope the chapter wasn't too tedious. As usual, big thanks to all my awesome reviewers for being awesome and making me feel good. You still manage to make my days. I was so angry with how long this chapter took. I got impatient with it more than once, and that probably shows. Anyway, I'm really hoping to get the next chapter up quicker next time. **

**One more thing before I go, to those of you who have sent me PMs in the past few weeks or so, if I haven't replied it isn't because I'm ignoring them. I've got a lot to do, my uni workload is a hell of a lot more massive than I expected it to be, and I don't have much free time these days. But no worries, I've got a week off from uni and should have time to answer those unanswered PMs in the following days. If I don't answer within the week, assume I've overlooked the message and, if it's important, send it again. Thanks, everyone. :)**

**Once more, thankyou my wonderful reviewers! And thank YOU for reading! Ta!**

**~River**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello, fellows. Here's a new chapter, just for you. Do enjoy.**

**8.**

"After the cowardly Feral and his band of panthers fled, no panther was ever again seen in the Valley. It is believed they fled through pass in the Western Mountains and disappeared into the outside world. They were never heard from again."

Prowlus sat back and folded his large paws against his chest, his tale finished. His dragon audience was silent for a while as they soaked up the information they'd just acquired. Spyro's expression had creased into a frown, his brain ticking over like clockwork as thoughts and questions were born in his mind. Almost half an hour had passed since the start of Prowlus's tale.

"That's it then," Cynder said softly, breaking the stiff silence, "they left, just like that, and were never seen again. Is there nothing else?"

The stiff cheetah passed her a glare, "The history of my tribe tells nothing of what became of the panthers after they fled the Valley of Avalar. Nothing more is known of them. Are you finished interrogating me yet?"

"I still have some questions," Spyro interrupted, to Prowlus's irritation, "Surely this Feral still held some animosity towards Talon and the cheetahs. Why didn't he return to the valley to try again?"

"Because he was a coward!" Prowlus snapped, only garnering an impatient glare from the purple dragon. The dragons all knew they have been given a particularly biased version of the story from the cheetah chief.

"There has to be another reason," Spyro glowered, "No cowardice would keep a creature that bitter from his revenge."

Prowlus huffed and glanced out the window, "A thousand years ago, after Malefor was sealed away, Feral attacked the Valley. Rumours say that he had been planning a mutiny long before Malefor's fall, and claim that he waited until the world was freed from that purple menace before he made his move. About two years after he and his panthers fled the Valley, Malefor's apes came out of hiding, intent on revenge and eager to release their master from his eternal prison. The world became a dangerous place."

"What does this have to do with-?" Spyro began, but Prowlus shot him a glare and he shut his mouth.

"The old belief," Prowlus continued, "was that Feral and the panthers found themselves at the mercy of the apes now that they were outside of the protective walls of the valley. It was thought they were all slaughtered by the apes. But now, a thousand years later, the panthers have returned and that belief is all but shattered. However, it is likely the re-emergence of the apes was what stopped Feral and the panthers from returning to reclaim the Valley of Avalar back then."

"I see," the purple dragon murmured and fell silent.

"What about the Forbidden Passage?" asked Cynder, who had always had an eye for the smaller details, "If it was blocked off, how is it still in use today? And the way you described the passage made it seem like there is a whole warren of tunnels down there."

"That's right!" Spyro head shot up, his eyes confused, "But when we went through the passage there was only a single path that led straight to Warfang. How…?"

Prowlus waved an impatient paw, "This seems hardly relevant, but the Forbidden Passage was unblocked again whilst the cheetah tribe was under the leadership of Talon's son. During his reign as chief, the apes managed to navigate their way over the Western Mountains to discover the Valley of Avalar. With nowhere to run, many cheetahs were slaughtered in the attack. Afterwards, the chief ordered the unblocking of the Forbidden Passage to serve as an escape route should the apes attack again."

"But wouldn't that open up a new route for the apes to take into the valley?" Flame asked sceptically, raising a scaly eyebrow.

Prowlus glared, "I'm not finished yet! To ensure that the Forbidden Passage could be used by the cheetahs only, the chief enlisted the help of an old sorcerer whose domain lay beyond the waterfall."

"No doubt one of the crazy hermit's ancestors," Spyro muttered to Cynder quietly.

"He placed a spell on a slab of stone that covered the entrance to the passage, ensuring that only those with the correct password could enter it," Prowlus continued, "And, to ensure that they would not get lost in the maze of passageways, the chief led a small band of cheetahs to block off every branch in the tunnel until only a clear path to the Dragon City remained. It took them several months to do so. The Forbidden Passage has remained as such ever since."

"Until a few months ago when you decided to unblock the entrance for good," Spyro cut in, "to symbolise your ties to the Dragon City now that we are true allies."

Prowlus replied with a stiff nod and nothing more. The dragons in the room exchanged glances. Outside, the rain had picked up again, harder than before. It pattered mercilessly on the balcony outside Prowlus's room, causing the deer pelt hanging in the doorway to jerk and dance like a possessed thing.

"I guess the only question left is, why have the panthers returned now?" Spyro said, to nods of agreement, "And what exactly do they want?"

"To reclaim Avalar," Prowlus replied darkly, "and to end what Feral started a thousand years ago."

Outside the chief's room, Forage and Cougar were bored and hungry. They hadn't eaten for a while, forced to stand guard outside Prowlus's door and ensure that no one bothered the bad-tempered cheetah. Spyro and his friends had been in there for quite a while and Cougar was wondering just what was taking them so long. He was tempted to take a peek in the room to find out.

But just then the stocky feline's attention was caught by a small yellow bug hovering down the hall towards him. It had to be Sparx, Spyro's surrogate dragonfly brother, and he was flying very slowly and sluggishly. As the dragonfly hovered closer, Cougar saw the reason for it. In Sparx's tiny glowing hands were two round orange fruits, each quite larger than the dragonfly's head. Cougar wondered how he even managed to carry them.

"Hey, little dude," Cougar grinned, "Back so soon? What have you got there?"

Sparx had been here only a little while ago, just before Spyro had arrived. He strained under the weight of the fruits as he hovered over to Cougar's outstretched paw.

"Thought you…might be…hungry," the dragonfly grunted and dropped the fruits into the feline's paw. He then hovered back a little and swiped a hand across his forehead with a loud 'phew'.

"The things I do for you," Sparx grinned and folded his arms.

Cougar was inspecting the fruits in his paws, raising a sceptical eyebrow. Sparx waved an impatient hand and said, "They're fruits! I know you guys are carnivores and all that – meat, yuck – but a little fruit here and there can't hurt."

"Whatever you say, little dude," Cougar smirked and tossed one of the fruits to Forage, who only just managed to catch it and had to juggle it comically in his paws.

"Say, you haven't seen Spyro around, have you?" Sparx asked seconds later, "He's probably still in the library, though."

"Actually he dropped by about half an hour ago," Cougar replied with a wave of his paw, "Needed to talk to Prowlus, so we let him and his friends in. They still haven't come out."

Sparx seemed surprise, "What did my buddy Spyro need to see that old furball about?"

"They were going ask him about the panthers," Forage answered with a sigh, "Although Prowlus doesn't particularly _like_ telling that tale, he has never forgotten it."

"What! Aww, I'm missing the story!" Sparx whined and flew forwards, "Quick, lemme in!"

Forage opened his mouth to protest, but Cougar held a claw up to his own mouth and shook his head, grinning. Then the stocky golden feline pulled the door open a crack, just enough for the little dragonfly to slip through. As he did so, the two cats heard a snippet of the conversation within the room.

"But why now?" Spyro was saying, "You'd think they would have returned sooner, instead of waiting a thousand years…"

"Use your head, purple dragon!" Prowlus snapped, and then Sparx cut them all off.

"Spyro, buddy! Did you miss me?"

Spyro jumped, "Sparx!"

"How did you get in here?" Prowlus growled, eyebrow twitching with irritation.

"Through the door," Sparx smirked, jerking a thumb back at the doorway where Cougar was watching through the thin crack.

Prowlus scowled and for a second his eyes met Cougar's one eye, peering through the crack in the doorway. Cougar winked at his chief's disgruntled expression and closed the crack, leaving Sparx and the dragons alone with the irritated Prowlus.

"What did I miss?" Sparx asked, hovered down to Spyro's level and leaning an elbow on one of his horns.

"A lot," Spyro muttered, "I'll fill you in later."

Though the purple dragon still had questions he wanted to ask Prowlus, he could sense that the cheetah chief was getting more and more agitated. He had a feeling that they had gotten about as much useful information out of the stubborn cheetah as they could for now.

"Thank you for your time, chief Prowlus," Spyro said respectfully, standing up from his spot on the cushion, "We won't impose on you any longer."

He turned his lilac eyes on his friends, "Come on."

With a little reluctance, the other dragons stood up and moved towards the door. With a respectful nod at the chief, Spyro followed them out of the room. Prowlus said nothing as the door closed behind them. His eyes strayed to the tiny arch-shaped window in the wall, through which the grey sky lurked over the city and the rain continued to pour.

Outside in the hallway, Flame was complaining about leaving so suddenly when they had still been asking questions. But Spyro shook his head.

"He was getting agitated," the purple dragon said, "I think we were lucky to get that much out of him in the first place."

"That's true," Forage the blue-furred feline agreed, "Prowlus is a very quick-tempered cheetah. You must tread carefully around him."

"Especially when he's being forced to tell _that _tale," Cougar cut in with a wry smirk, "He's never been particularly fond of that part of our history."

"But why?" Flame snorted, "The cheetahs won, didn't they? Prowlus claimed he was a direct descendant of that chief Talon, and Talon was victorious! What does Prowlus have to be ashamed about?"

Spyro's eyes darkened, "I think I know. Prowlus has always viewed our race as barbaric, due to the fact that we've been at war with Malefor – a dragon himself – for a thousand years. And then, when Al-," for a second Spyro choked, the name frozen on his tongue, "-when _he_ tried to destroy the race of dragons despite being a dragon himself, Prowlus called us fickle and was disgusted by the way we could be so barbaric amongst our own race."

"But now we know there was a time within the past of Prowlus's own race," Spyro continued bitterly, "when his ancestors turned on each other so savagely, as though they had no honour. His own ancestors were as barbaric as the dragons he had always despised. No wonder he is ashamed."

"Oh," Flame shut his mouth.

"I think it's best that we leave Prowlus be for now," Cynder said, already walking away down the hall, 'We've got more than enough to think about."

"Thanks for your help," Spyro told Forage and Cougar before he hurried after Cynder with everyone else in tow.

"Come back soon, Spyro!" Cougar called after him, "Even if it's just to talk to us!"

"I will!" Spyro promised.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the lounge of the Academy, curled up together on a large bed of cushions, talking in hushed voices about the tale of the panthers and filling Sparx in on what he missed. Despite the continuing downpour outside, Spyro was still expected at the western courtyard for training and he went reluctantly with everyone else following curiously behind. After another humiliating training session and a bit of explanation for the other young dragons, the group stumbled tiredly off to their rooms.

Other than a few stinging wounds, Spyro had forgotten about his fight with Chasm until Sparx asked him if he'd been picking fights. But that was the last thing on the purple dragon's mind. The panthers had returned for revenge and he didn't even know who they were or where they were coming from. Soon enough the gaps in their history would need to be filled, or Spyro knew that he, Warfang and Avalar could all too soon be rushing blindly into battle against a foe hidden in the shadows.

Two days passed and the rain did not abate. Spyro spent the nights tossing and turning on his cushions, disturbed not by the sound of the rain outside, but by the questions and uncertainties poisoning his mind. More than once he woke in a cold sweat, visions of black cats with glowing white eyes embedded in his head. Worse were the dreams where _he _was washed in shadows with eyes that shone like colourless moons in the night.

And yet still no word was sent from Avalar, which meant no doubt that the assassin had not returned. Classes for the young dragons had yet to recommence, though they had meant to resume several days ago after the end of the festival. While many young dragons saw this as a treat, it left Spyro and his friends anxious. After all, if the guardians were not holding classes, it meant they were worried. And worried guardians meant troubled times.

Despite all this, Spyro found the guardians still expected him to attend training sessions. They frequently told him that, if trouble was brewing anew, he'd need to be at his strongest to face and defeat these new foes. After Cyril's lesson in particular, Spyro was left wondering if he was just being used. But he shook the uncomfortable thought from his head with some difficulty.

To top it all off, Zephira approached him one morning to tell him that she'd been to Mother Seak for guidance and had decided to instruct him in the ways of the wind element. For Spyro, who already had a lot on his mind, this only meant another burden to carry on his shoulders. But he smiled and pretended to be grateful, if only for Zephira's sake, for the young wind dragoness seemed both nervous and unsure of herself.

In was late morning, three days after Prowlus had come to Warfang, when things began to happen. Spyro had just accepted Flame's suggestion of a friendly sparring match in the western courtyard, and the two male dragons were headed there with four dragonesses in tow. For the past few days, Ember and Cynder had been spending more time with Saffron and Zephira. They stuck together for most hours of the day, often chatting quietly about things the male dragons couldn't hear.

The six young dragons were almost at the courtyard when there was a sudden strong gust of wind from above that almost flattened them to the cobblestones. Seconds later, a huge green dragon landed with a heavy thud that sent a shockwave through the ground. Legs tingling, Spyro straightened up and met the stern green eyes of the earth guardian. The purple dragon could tell just from his expression that something was wrong.

"Come to the Atrium quickly, Spyro," Terrador ordered, his voice rumbling ominously, "the other guardians are waiting."

The earth guardian turned and spread his wide brown wings. Spyro hurried forwards, "Uh, hey, wait! Terrador!"

Terrador turned his stocky green head to look at Spyro. The purple dragon hesitated, confused and worried, and then looked back at Flame and the dragonesses. The fire dragon glared defiantly at the earth guardian.

"Yes…you may follow, young ones," Terrador sighed heavily. With a great leap that must have required great strength in the muscles of his hind legs, the earth guardian sprang into the air and caught the wind. The young dragons followed in silence.

They landed outside the Atrium seconds later and were ushered inside by the anxious Terrador. Saffron showed signs of wanting to stop and admire the murals along the walls of the entrance hall, but the huge form of the earth dragon hurried them quickly along. The electricity dragoness glanced back at him briefly, but his stern eyes were looking straight ahead. Hunching her shoulders, she hurried after the others.

Inside the main room of the Atrium, Seriphos and the other three guardians were waiting. Prowlus, Cougar and Forage were also there, which made Spyro's heart sink with nervousness. The cheetah chief was the first to speak when they entered the room.

"Finally, Terrador!" Prowlus grunted, impatient as always, "I don't see why we had to wait for these younglings!"

Cynder glared defiantly at him, but Terrador replied with a simple, "They deserved to know."

"Know what?" Spyro interrupted, "What's happening?"

Prowlus waved a paw, "Hunter has sent news from Avalar. It seems the panthers have struck again."

Spyro's stomach lurched unpleasantly at this news. For the first time he noticed the piece of parchment crumpled in Prowlus's paw. Several terrible scenarios raced through the purple dragon's head.

"Was anyone hurt?" Ember cut in anxiously, speaking everyone's fears.

"There were no causalities," Prowlus replied stiffly, to everyone's relief, "but several huts have been burned to the ground. And this time we are certain that our assailants really are panthers."

"Why's that?" Flame asked with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Because," the chief snorted, "there's a body to prove it!"

"What!" Saffron yelped, violet eyes widening, "They killed one?"

"Hunter did intend to capture one as a hostage, but-" Forage interrupted, but Prowlus cut him off with a snarl.

"We can speak of this later! We must return to Avalar! Now!" the chief ground his teeth together angrily, "Before any more damage is done to my village!"

Thasos strode over calmly, Seriphos at his side.

"Calm yourself, Chief Prowlus," the fire guardian soothed, "We will return you to your valley soon enough. Spyro, will you accompany us back to Avalar?"

The purple dragon felt a little overwhelmed at the rush of information, "Y-yes, I'll go. I want to make sure Hunter is alright."

"Good," Terrador rumbled, "Shall we go?"

"Wait a second!" Flame called, raising his voice in an effort to be noticed, "What about us? Can we come too?"

The guardians hesitated and exchanged glances. After a moment Thasos shrugged and said, "I don't see why not."

"Just don't make fools of yourselves," Cyril snorted frostily. Saffron rolled her eyes.

"We're going too," Cynder agreed, with a glance at Ember.

Saffron looked at Zephira, "Well?"

"I…I don't know," the young wind dragoness sighed, her eyes dropping to the floor, "If Ciro finds out I've left the city without him…"

The electric dragoness snorted, "Don't worry about him, he'll live. Zannak will probably get up at me for leaving him behind, too. Come on, Zeph, this is a chance to see the Valley of Avalar without our brothers breathing down the backs of our necks! Besides, we're with the guardians; what could happen?"

"You're right," Zephira agreed after a moment, "Let's go."

"Hurry up about it, would you!" Prowlus snapped.

It took much of the rest of the morning and the early afternoon before they reached Avalar, once more by air. Thankfully the rain had let up the previous night, but the sky remained a dank sort of grey that dampened everyone's spirits. Zephira kept looking anxiously behind her, as though she thought they were being followed or was anxious about leaving the safe walls of the city. Not that anyone could blame her. She'd been surrounded by walls all her life; first in the caverns beneath the mountains, and now within the great dragon city. The outside world held many wonders and dangers to her.

Saffron, on the other hand, found herself enjoying the flight to the valley. Though she too had been raised in the enclosing walls of the caverns, her heart had always longed for freedom and adventure, just like her mother. Saffron's eyes darkened as she thought of that dragoness – the dragoness who had laid her egg but had hardly ever been there for her children. The electricity dragoness didn't like to think of her mother; it only left unpleasant memories in her thoughts and a bitter taste on her tongue.

"It's good to get out of the city for once, hey Flame?" Ember commented, gliding smoothly beside her friend.

"Yeah," the red dragon agreed, but his eyes darkened, "if only it was for a more pleasant reason."

The pink dragoness hesitated and scouted around for something to lighten the mood. She thought of something and slyly nudged Flame with her hips, causing him to stagger in mid-flight.

"Remember when we snuck out together a year ago?" she asked, "We had such trouble escaping from your room with Sestos and Milos guarding your doors. I think that was the first time I'd explored the outside with only you, Flame."

Flame glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her smiling tenderly at him. His cheeks burned, a light shade of pink dusting his red scales, and he coughed nervously. A fond smile crept onto his muzzle.

"Yeah…I liked that."

"Look at you," said an amused yet not unkind voice from beside them. They turned to see Seriphos gliding along beside them, a gentle warm look in his brown eyes. "A regular pair of lovebirds, you are."

Flame's cheeks burned and he opened his mouth to shoot back a retort, but the earth dragon captain didn't wait for an answer. He pointed with a talon to the trees below and remarked, "Looks like we're here."

Ahead of them, Spyro and Cynder had already begun the descent, snapping their wings back and soaring down towards the forest floor. The trees had parted to reveal the cheetah village nestled within the valley. Even from the sky, Spyro could see that several huts were blackened with ash and others reduced to rubble. Snapping his wings open, the purple dragon halted his descent and landed in a spray of dust. Cynder alighted gracefully beside him, hardly stirring the dirt beneath her dainty paws.

"Spyro! I knew you'd arrive eventually," Hunter called, dashing towards them with bow in hand. Most of the villagers were milling around in the centre, or picking through the rubble of the crumbled, burnt out huts.

"What happened here?" Spyro pressed urgently, gazing around at the blackened huts. The guardians landed behind him with four hefty thuds, almost causing a miniature dust storm. Prowlus practically leapt off Terrador's back.

"You're wounded," was the first thing the chief snapped at his captain.

Hunter instantly clapped a paw over the bandage around his upper left bicep, "It's nothing, just a minor burn."

"Can't say the same for the huts though," Cougar muttered wryly, looking around at the charred rubble.

"I knew leaving the valley was a bad idea," Prowlus growled through gritted teeth, "I was a fool to ever be convinced otherwise! It _wasn't_ me the panthers were after!"

The chief turned angry eyes on the dragons, but before he could begin a tirade of accusations, Hunter cut him off.

"That's where you're wrong, sir," he interrupted, beckoning with a paw, "Come, let me fill you in on what happened last night."

Hunter led them into a nearby hut, one of the few which had been spared from the flames. Even the chief's own hut had been lost in the fires. The hut wasn't big enough for everyone, so Seriphos and three of the guardians chose to stay outside and help with the cleanup. Terrador accompanied the young dragons into the hut.

Inside they found Meadow kneeling beside a dark, unmoving shape laid upon a reed mat on the floor. It was only when Spyro moved closer that he saw the shape for what it was. It was built just like a cheetah, but more solid, and had a broader less dainty muzzle. Its fur was completely black, like the sky on a moonless night, and its eyes were closed as though in sleep. Spyro shivered. This was his first time seeing a panther in the flesh, and it looked every bit like the dark creatures he saw in his dreams.

"A casualty from last night," Hunter said softly as the group crowded around Meadow and the lifeless panther, "He was one of several assailants that attacked and burned down the huts. I attempted to capture this one, but was forced to end his life when he attacked Meadow."

The chief was staring wide-eyed at the panther, "What exactly happened, Hunter?"

The golden-furred cheetah hesitated, "Forgive me, chief. I was not entirely truthful with you when I convinced you to leave the village. You see, I…I expected the panthers to attack again. In fact, I had intended they would. But I had to keep you safe and out of the way. We can't afford to lose our chief."

Prowlus's eyes narrowed, "Go on."

"I intended to capture one of the assailants when they returned to attack," Hunter continued, "I knew I was putting the village in danger, but we were prepared for the next attack, as long as you were safely hidden away in the Dragon City. At least, we thought we were prepared. But we didn't reckon with their reaction to your lack of presence."

"Upon realising that you were not in your hut – indeed, Meadow and I had taken up station in your hut instead –," the cheetah captain continued, "the panthers proceeded to burn down the huts. Perhaps they intended to weaken our defences before returning to the rest of their tribe to give news that the chief of the cheetah tribe was gone. No sooner had they set several huts alight, did they melt back into the shadows and disappear. However, I managed to wrestle this one before he escaped. I intended to keep him as a hostage in the hopes he would give us information about his race, but the instant I let my guard down, he attacked. He would have had Meadow if I hadn't reacted as quickly as I had. I had no choice but to cut him down, and he didn't even utter a word."

Hunter fell silent and turned brooding eyes on the lifeless black panther. A heavy, disconcerting feeling settled upon the shoulders of those in the room. Zephira shifted nervously, like a deer caught in the spotlight, and unconsciously inched closer to Saffron. As though noticing her friend's distress, the electricity dragoness quickly broke the gloomy silence.

"Why don't we all go outside to discuss this?" she suggested, her voice ringing shrilly as though the sight of the dead panther had unnerved her too.

"Y-yes, of course," Hunter replied quickly, with a bit of a jolt, "it is rather…stuffy in here."

The cheetah almost grinned at the sight of the six young dragons crammed into the small hut, with Terrador's large head being the only part of his body that fit within the cosy room. They backed out slowly, shuffling wings and trying not to step on each others' paws, until they were once more out in the sun. Hunter, Meadow and Prowlus followed them out.

Across the village, the other guardians were helping the cats to clear away the burnt debris from the incinerated huts. There was next to nothing left of those that had been caught in the flames. Spyro shivered as he realised just how lucky the cheetahs had been to escape the same fate as their homes. From the dark look in Prowlus's eyes, the purple dragon assumed he was thinking the same.

"How many were lost?" the chief asked softly.

"The huts? Seven," Hunter replied grimly, "Thankfully, we suffered only minor injuries. Everyone is safe."

"For now," Spyro heard Flame mutter under his breath. The red dragon swept away the ash that had been carried on the wind to rest at his feet.

"Flame's right," the purple dragon said, looking up, "the panthers are bound to attack again, aren't they?"

"I have no doubts about that," Hunter murmured darkly, fingering his bow, "Especially now that they believe Chief Prowlus is gone. But this time we will be prepared. I think…"

The golden-furred cheetah turned aqua eyes on Terrador, "I think this time, we may need your help."

Far beyond the luscious Valley of Avalar and the mighty walls of the dragon city of Warfang; far beyond the great mountain ranges that rose to the west and the dark forests that spread like mould over the land; far beyond the borders that few dragons had dared cross in many years, lay a barren place void of life, a place where unforgiving winds tore across a landscape of sand and rock, repelling any who dared to traverse this cruel land. But it was here, in this land of sandstorms and unforgiving heat, that a certain species had made their unlikely home.

Their clan, once small and subdued by their violent past, had grown by enormous amounts over the years. In a place where even staying alive was difficult, they had somehow managed to live and thrive, dominating the harsh landscape. But still they yearned for the lush forests and clear rivers that their ancestors had been privileged with.

They were panthers, the descendants of the very same who had once followed Feral into battle a thousand years ago. They had settled here, in this place known to many as the Badlands, many centuries ago and had never since left. Stories of their ancestors had been passed down through the generations, the tale becoming more and more warped over the years.

But one thought always remained the same. The cheetahs were the reason their ancestors had been banished from the great Valley; the reason why the panthers now struggled to survive in this harsh, barren environment. The stories of the great Valley of Avalar were cherished by all. One day, these shadowy-furred cats promised their cubs, they would return to reclaim that mighty valley.

There had been many chiefs of the panther clan over the years, but the title 'chief' had at one point been dropped. Nobody remembered when they had stopped using the title, but these days the leader of the clan was addressed either as 'sir', 'master' or simply by name. At this point in time there was not one leader of the clan, but two – twins. Never had this occurred before, but no cat questioned it. They were, after all, two of the best leaders their clan had ever seen.

Skelos strode through the dusty streets of the huge panther village, which stretched a surface area greater even than the mighty city of Warfang. The panther's black paws sank into the sand with every step, threatening to throw him off balance. But he, like all the panthers, had grown up in this environment and the sand did not hinder him. He could run as swiftly on the sand as he could on the solid surface of rock.

"Skulk!" Skelos called out to the dusty air, "Skulk!"

Panthers turned to greet him, but no one answered his shout. Annoyed, the panther continued through the village, nodding stiffly at those around him.

"Skulk!" he tried again. He was forced to stop when two young cubs, barely up to his waist in height, dashed in front of him. They giggled and ran on, sending up clouds of sand with their paws. Skelos shook his head, muttering to himself. "Where is that foolish brother of mine?"

Skelos looked similar to most other panthers, with his smooth black coat and broad, proud muzzle. However, unlike most panthers, who sported green, yellow or even orange eyes, Skelos's eyes were a deep ocean blue. He was also a lot slimmer than the other heavily built male panthers.

Another young cub ran past, almost crashing into Skelos's legs in his hurry. He stumbled and fell back onto his rump, blinking dust from his eyes. Skelos looked down at the small panther.

"Sorry, sir," the little one squeaked, standing up and brushing his tunic off.

"You haven't seen Skulk around, have you?" Skelos asked. The cub seemed surprised.

"No sir, sorry sir," he said quickly and scampered off.

"Figures," Skelos muttered and continued on, calling out Skulk's name.

After several more fruitless minutes of searching, Skelos decided that his missing brother was no doubt in the very place he had hoped he wouldn't be. Annoyed, the slim panther turned abruptly and made for the outskirts of the village. But before he'd even reached the rickety fence of dead branches that surrounded the panther village, he saw a figure striding towards him through the clouds of sand that constantly swirled with the wind.

"Where had you been, Skulk?" asked the exasperated Skelos, as his brother strode to a halt in front of him. A pair of clever blue eyes smirked back at him.

"Just visiting that short-tempered friend of ours," Skulk said smoothly.

At a glance, the two brothers were entirely identical, from their slim builds and the proud shape of their muzzles, to the unusual colour of their eyes. There was only one difference between them, and that was the large chunk that was missing from Skulk's left ear – a memento of some long gone battle.

"You should leave him be," Skelos muttered, a twinge of irritation in his tone, "he can fend for himself."

Skulk's eyes only twinkled in response. With a resigned sigh, Skelos swept his paw over the short black fur of his head, sweeping his ears back for a split second. The dust that had settled in his fur was caught by the coarse pad of his paw and swept away.

"Silt has sent word," Skelos revealed, already turning away, "I've been looking for you for the past ten minutes. Come on, they'll be waiting for us."

Skulk's expression lightened with interest, "Already? Huh, perhaps they bring good news this time."

In silence, Skulk followed his twin brother back through the dusty village towards the largest building – a hut thrice the size of any other, with walls built from the trunks of ash trees and a roof thatched with dry reeds and mud. This was their personal quarters, or rather, the personal quarters of the current leader of the panther clan – a title which they just so happened to share.

It was dark inside the hut, lit only by the small holes in the walls that served as windows from whence pale sunlight streamed in. There were three rooms in this hut – one each for the personal living quarters of the twins, and another for an entirely different purpose. This room was smaller than the others, had no windows, and was where Skulk and Skelos were headed now.

The room was small and circular, washed in pale orange light by the fires glimmering in clay pots around the walls. A small stage took up almost an entire half of the room, and upon it sat a podium of clay. There were flames flickering in clay pots around this podium, illuminating the strange, glassy object that was rested ever so carefully upon it.

It was a crystal; a smooth, black crystal with a glassy, almost oily surface. Most dragons would agree that this crystal looked very much like a miniature spirit gem, if it wasn't for the unusual shadowy colour. The spines of the crystal branched out into points, like that of a hedgehog. Occasionally, ripples of deep purple energy would pass over its glossy black surface.

Skelos strode forwards without hesitation, stepped up onto the stage, and reached a paw towards the crystal settled on the podium. The instant his paw brushed the crystalline spikes, a strange ripple of energy passed through the gem. An image suddenly appeared above the podium, wavering and almost transparent, like a ghostly projection. A panther with deep orange eyes stared at the twins from the projection, his black fur highlighted by a backdrop of lush green trees.

"Master Skelos," said the orange-eyed panther, his voice crackling strangely as it filled the room, "Master Skulk."

"Forgive us for making you wait, Silt," Skelos apologised to the wavering projection above the crystal. He cast an irritated glance at Skulk, "We were held up."

Silt, the panther in the projection, shook his head, "It is no worry, Masters. I bring news you may – nay – you _will_ find interesting. It concerns the cheetahs."

"Go on," Skulk prompted, moving up to join his brother on the stage. The image of Silt wavered, but the excitement was clear on his face.

"We infiltrated the cheetah village just last night and discovered something most unexpected…" Silt paused, as though for effect, before blurting out, "The cheetah chieftain is gone! He has disappeared! We believe he may have fled and deserted his village."

Skelos's eyes widened, "What? Fled? I was under the impression that the cheetahs were far braver than _that_."

"So we believed, too," Silt agreed, "But he was not within the village when we attacked. Any leader that deserts his clan in a crisis is no better than a coward!"

"Perhaps the cheetahs are not as formidable as we had first thought," Skulk murmured thoughtfully, sharing a glance with his twin brother. Skelos nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in confused thought.

"We burned down many of their huts," Silt continued, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, "They must not have been expecting us, for they put up very little defence. However, quite unfortunately, we lost Dunn in the attack. We believe he must have been captured by the cheetahs, or killed. We dare not go back to find out when there are so little of us."

Skelos's eyes darkened, "I see. It is a dark day when one of our assassins is lost…but his death will not be meaningless."

"The information you have brought us is invaluable," Skulk continued silkily, "The cheetah tribe is weakened and without a leader. This is the chance we have been waiting for."

"We will rally as many warriors as we can," Skelos agreed, "and attack before the cheetahs have a chance to recover. We will be there within a week. Until then, Silt, you and the other assassins stay put. Keep an eye on the cheetah tribe, but do not let them see, hear or even scent you. We will join you in due time."

"Yes, Masters," Silt replied, the projection wavering dangerously as it became unstable, "We await your arrival."

Then the image of the orange-eyed panther faded away and the purple ripples that had been jumping across the surface of the black crystal all but disappeared. Skulk and Skelos remained in silence for several moments, only the flickering of the clay pot torches to interrupt their thoughts.

"What do you think?" Skulk asked moments later, his voice ringing hollowly in the silence.

"Perhaps the cheetahs have grown soft in the lap of luxury since the end of the war," Skelos replied, turning and stepping down off the stage, "Now is the time to act."

"It will be a long trek to Avalar," Skulk pointed out.

"I know, but if our assassins managed it, our warriors surely can too."

"Now there are only five assassins. Soon we'll need to appoint another."

Skelos paused, thinking, "Yes. I've had my eye on young Orpheus lately. He would be a great asset to our elite guard. But come, we have an army to organise and a long journey ahead of us. Soon enough, we too will be living in luxury, safe in the Valley of Avalar, just like our ancestors long before us."

Skulk glanced back at the black crystal once more and agreed in his silky smooth voice, "Soon indeed."

The dragons returned to Warfang that afternoon, leaving Prowlus and the cheetahs to continue the clean-up at Avalar. A plan had been discussed between them before the dragons left. Seriphos would gather together the newly formed guard, of which he was captain, and they would head to Avalar to protect the village.

"The panthers likely do not know we have since allied with Warfang," Hunter had said. When they attacked again, as they were sure to do, they would surely not expect a barricade of dragons surrounding the cheetah village.

Spyro himself had agreed to be part of the guard, as had Flame. The dragonesses, though they had argued fiercely, had been convinced to remain behind in Warfang. Cynder, especially, had been hard to convince. Spyro had pleaded with her, eventually explaining his worry that, if the panthers proved too strong, there would be no one left to defend Warfang. So, reluctantly, Cynder had agreed to remain behind, but not before threatening Flame with disembowelment if he returned to Warfang without Spyro.

That afternoon, Spyro was pacing his room anxiously, thinking about what was to come. There was no guarantee that the panthers would attack again, but somehow Spyro was entirely convinced that he was about to fight in a battle the likes of which he hadn't seen for almost a year. Peace was so short-lived.

"Come on, Spyro, why are you so tense?" Sparx complained, hovering over the purple dragon's head as he paced backwards and forwards across his room, "You're wearing a hole in the floor."

His jaw set stubbornly, Spyro could only shake his head in reply. The muscles all through his back and shoulders had tensed painfully and he couldn't convince his worried body to let them loose.

"We've faced much worse than this before!" Sparx continued, trying to sound convincing, "You and me! Side by side! We defeated Cynder, rescued the guardians, escaped those blasted pirates, slaughtered that crazy monkey, and survived for three years trapped in a crystal of all things! You've defeated the most powerful evil dragon on the planet! So what's the big deal?"

"You don't get it!" Spyro cried, coming to a sudden stop in his pacing, "I'm not ready this time! It's been a year, Sparx! A year, nothing more! I thought we would finally be at peace, but…"

The purple dragon heaved a sigh and collapsed onto his belly, covering his nose with his forepaws. "Why doesn't it ever end? Why can't we just be left in peace? First Cynder, then Gaul, then Malefor himself, then Alta and the grublins…"

Too late Spyro realised that, in his distraction, he had uttered the oracle dragon's name for the first time in many months. A strange shudder passed over his body, gruesome images flashing in his mind, and he screwed his eyes shut. But the feeling passed, and eventually he opened his eyes again and took a deep breath. Sparx was looking down on him, concerned.

"I feel so exhausted, Sparx," Spyro admitted at last, feeling the threat of tears behind his eyes, "I feel like I've been fighting my entire life, just to stay alive. I feel like…like I have to fight to keep _everyone_ alive. They depend on me and I am always carrying their worries on my shoulders! I can't ever let them down, but…I just want to rest. I can't keep doing this anymore. I'm just so exhausted…"

Sparx rested a small gentle hand on Spyro's forehead, "We're always here for you, you know, buddy. You're not alone."

When Spyro didn't respond, Sparx looked around the room for something to grab his attention. His eyes fell on the silver chest against the wall, the one filled with the various pieces of armour that Spyro had collected over time. An idea flashed into the dragonfly's mind.

"You know what you need, Spyro?" he asked and didn't wait for a response, "Some new armour! Your old armour is pretty battered and ugly – not unlike you, you know – so why not a new set? You know, to protect that thick head of yours."

At last Spyro raised his head, his eyes wet, "You think it'll help?"

Sparx shrugged, "Hey, if it doesn't, at least you'll look good, right?"

A smile tugged reluctantly at Spyro's mouth, "Right."

With Sparx leading, saying he knew of a good blacksmith, the two unlikely brothers headed through the streets of Warfang in search of a new set of armour. On the way there they came across the troublesome trio of Zannak, Ciro and Kazan who, strangely enough, were also headed for the blacksmith.

"We forgot to return the armour we borrowed for the festival," Ciro explained, when Spyro asked why, gesturing to the old pieces of armour held under his wing.

"Better late than never, right?" Zannak grinned cheerily, a spring in his step. The electricity dragon had been disappointed when his sister had returned, jealous he hadn't gone to Avalar with them. But he never stayed down for long and was back to his usual cheery self.

"What are you after?" Ciro asked the purple dragon curiously. He'd been slightly sterner with Zephira once she'd returned, though the knowledge that she'd been with the guardians had calmed him. Despite his mischievous demeanour, he was highly protective of his little sister. She was all he had, after all.

"New armour," Spyro responded shortly, not in the mood to elaborate. Sparx hovered ahead of them, a zigzagging yellow dot.

"That doesn't come cheap, you know," Ciro pointed out, a little unhelpfully.

"Yeah, but he's the purple dragon!" Zannak cut in with a wide grin, "he'll probably get a discount."

"I wouldn't count on it," Kazan muttered sullenly.

"Have you ever been to the blacksmith before, Spyro?" Ciro asked, a strange look in his eye. Spyro hesitated.

"No, why?"

Ciro shrugged, looking ahead, "Nothing, it's just…the blacksmith is, well, he's a little different."

The purple dragon raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"You'll find out when we get there," the ice dragon replied mysteriously, both to Spyro's annoyance and curiosity.

Kazan sidled closer to Spyro's side, waiting until he was right next to him before he hissed something in his ear. Spyro cocked his head.

"I heard Flame saying something about a battle at the cheetah village. He says you're both heading to Avalar with Seriphos and the Guard to protect the cheetahs. Is it true?"

Spyro hesitated before he answered, "You're not thinking about coming with us, are you?"

"So it _is_ true," Kazan hissed, his eyes narrowing in thought, "Why shouldn't I come?"

"It'll be dangerous," the purple dragon mumbled back.

Kazan rolled his eyes, "If Flame can handle it, so can I. That's what the armour is for, right? I doubt I could afford any."

Spyro grunted, "If you want to come, I can't stop you. But you might wanna take it up with Captain Seriphos. We're not entirely sure what to expect."

"Well, whatever it is, I could use a bit of action," Kazan muttered bitterly, "If only to improve my skills."

"I don't think you understand how dangerous-," Spyro started to argue, but Zannak's obnoxious voice cut him off.

"Hey! What are you two _lovebirds_ whispering about?" the yellow dragon called. Ciro snickered.

"Shut up!" Kazan snapped, his crimson scales flaring. Spyro rolled his eyes. Ahead, Sparx was beckoning to them.

"There's the blacksmith," Ciro pointed out unnecessarily as they stopped in front of the building.

It was a small, almost square building with a grimy metal sign hanging above the door. 'Fire and Steel' it read in sharp, metallic letters. The wooden door sat slightly ajar, no doubt implying that it was open. Spyro glanced at the trio before striding towards it.

With some trepidation, the purple dragon eased the door open and stepped into the dark shop. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only light was a series of lanterns hanging from the roof. Against one of the walls lay several old chests, full to the brim with bits and pieces of miss-matched, battered armour. A door to the back of the shop must have led out into a separate area, perhaps the workshop where the armour was forged.

Directly in front of them, towards the far wall, was a wide mahogany desk littered with paper and old helms. Spyro stepped forwards hesitantly, suddenly glad of the company from the trio that followed behind him. He could make out the shape of a large dragon sitting behind the desk, preoccupied with the paperwork in front of him. At least, Spyro thought he was sitting. But as he edged closer to the desk, Spyro saw that he was wrong. This dragon wasn't sitting – he was floating!

For a moment Spyro could only stare in disbelief at the dragon behind the desk. He had never seen anything quite like him. The dragon's body was long and snake-like, unlike the more solid forms of other male dragons. Not only that, but he was distinctly lacking in both wings and, oddly enough, hind legs. If anything, this creature was little more than a snake with arms. How he managed to float like that without any visible means to was a mystery to Spyro. The strange dragon's scales were a deep earthy brown.

Swallowing the disbelief and slight fear at the impossible sight of this unusual dragon, Spyro stepped up to the desk. He stood for a moment in front of it, waiting for the dragon to say something. After several seconds, Spyro cleared his throat loudly. There was no response from the dragon, who continued to stare at the paperwork in his desk.

"Excuse me…sir?" Spyro tried hesitantly after another few moments. Zannak and the other two were hanging back nervously.

At last the strange brown dragon raised his head and looked over his desk at the purple dragon standing before him. Spyro saw with a jolt that his eyes were a deep, almost melodic purple. Just above and between those eyes was nestled an oval-shaped white pearl in his forehead, marked in the centre with a golden X. His muzzle was strangely beak-shaped. But that wasn't what caught Spyro's attention. No, it was the deep, heartbreaking sadness in the dragon's eyes that made Spyro stop and stare.

"What is it?" the floating dragon asked, his voice sad and hollow, like his heart wasn't really in it.

"I…" the words became lost on their way to Spyro's mouth as he gazed open-mouthed at the dragon. He had never seen nor felt such mind numbing sadness.

"Is there something you want…" the dragon peered through the dim light, "…purple dragon?"

"Y-yes, actually," Spyro responded in a shaky voice, trying to concentrate. His eyes fell on a large diamond on the dragon's desk, with a surface that looked utterly flawless, distracting him.

Spyro shook his head roughly, breaking out of his trance, "I came for some armour, sir."

"XagZan," said the dragon bluntly.

Spyro blinked, "What?"

"You may call me XagZan," the dragon sighed, glancing back down at his paperwork, "I am the blacksmith and owner of this shop."

"Oh…" Spyro hesitated, "Ok then, XagZan, can you help me? I need a new set of armour…"

"Take a look yourself," XagZan sighed, gesturing to the wall behind him. Then he fell back into silence, rustling through his paperwork.

Sparx leant down close to Spyro's head and whispered, "Man, I've never met a more miserable sod than this old guy."

Spyro merely grunted, his eyes on the wall behind XagZan, noticing for the first time the glimmering sets of armour hanging on hooks upon it. As he moved around the desk to take a closer look, Zannak, Ciro and Kazan hurried to return their old armour to the chests along the wall. They grinned and apologised to XagZan for bringing them back late, but the serpentine dragon barely acknowledged them at all. He merely hovered at his desk, surrounded by a cloud of his own misery.

The purple dragon decided to find a set of armour quickly, hoping to get out of the stuffy shop as quickly as possible. He could already feel XagZan's misery weighing upon his own shoulders. After several minutes of browsing, Spyro's eyes fell on a rather handsome bronze set, consisting of a helm, a back plate, a chest plate, and two anklet guards. It was strong and simple, nothing too flashy like the ceremonial armour he had also spied.

"How much for this set?" he asked the blacksmith.

XagZan looked up again, considering the bronze armour. He riffled again through his papers and replied, "For a set like that, I'd normally ask for twenty green gems."

"Twenty!" Spyro yelped, his mouth falling open.

XagZan turned his doleful purple eyes on the young dragon, "But for you, purple one, I am willing to offer it to you for fifteen."

"Fifteen…" Spyro muttered with a grimace. It was still much more than he had been expecting. Gazing at the armour, he thought about it and remembered that he didn't have any gems on him at the moment. Cursing his disorganisation, Spyro decided he'd get the gems from his room and come back for the armour.

"As you wish," XagZan murmured dolefully when Spyro told him this. The purple dragon quickly hurried out of the miserable shop and found Zannak, Ciro and Kazan waiting for him outside.

"Miserable, isn't he?" Ciro asked wryly. Spyro couldn't help but agree.

"But why?" the purple dragon asked as they strode away from the blacksmith.

Zannak shrugged and answered, "I think some of the elders know, but he never talks about it. He hardly ever talks _at all_."

"I heard someone talking about him once," Kazan revealed softly, "Something about his lost daughter…"

Spyro looked back sadly at the metal sign above the door of the blacksmith, "…right."

Several hours later, the setting sun found Spyro clad in his new bronze armour, standing in the centre of the guardians. Above him the branches of the white blossom tree swayed in the gentle breeze. The blossoms were falling, the purple dragon realised with a strange twinge of sadness. He remembered the last time the blossom tree had lost all its flowers. Part of him believed that the tree was tied to the fate of the city and its inhabitants. During times of hope it would flower, but in times of sadness and pain it would stand bare, like a dead thing.

Solemnly, Spyro gazed down at the memorial at his feet. Ignitus's ruby flame flickered like real fire in the dying sunlight. The purple dragon could help but wish that the old fire guardian was still with him, guiding him with kind words, giving him encouragement and hope. But Ignitus was gone and Spyro was alone here, gazing upon what could only be considered as his grave.

"I wish you could hear me, Ignitus," Spyro murmured to the ruby flame, "I'm so afraid, so confused…I don't know if I can do it this time. I don't know if I'm strong enough."

But there was no answer from the stone cold memorial. Spyro bowed his head, his shoulders shaking, and a tear dripped from his muzzle. It splashed upon the ruby flame, breaking into thousands of tiny particles that evaporated into the evening air. The flame seemed to flicker in response, but it was only a trick of the fading light. He was alone.

'_I wish you were here, Ignitus.'_

**A/N: Quicker update this time. Maybe the next update will be even quicker! Oh wait...I have six assignments due in the next 2 weeks. -.- But anyway... Thanks to my lovely reviewers once again! :D The character XagZan and the shop 'Fire and Steel' do not belong to me. They belong to a friend of mine, AZUREPHOENIX777 (also known as AZUREPHOENIX999 on deviant art). Also, it's your first look at the panthers and their leaders! Who can guess where I got Skelos's name from? Shouldn't be too hard for you Spyro fans, I mean, they live in the _Badlands_ *hint hint*. **

**Now, I have a question, because honestly I have no idea... How many dragons should there be in the City Guard of which Seriphos is captain? I'd be grateful to anyone who can give me their opinion of how many dragons they think a guard would be made up of, because I don't really know. Thanks everyone. :)**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading!**_  
_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm baaaaaack. Thanks to everyone who gave suggestions for the number of the Guard (I got suggestions everywhere from 50 - 250, so I went somewhere in the middle and decided on 150). Also, super special awesome thanks to GoldenGriffiness, who performed her best job as beta yet for this chapter. ^^ Enjoy.  
**

**9.**

Seriphos paced proudly at the front of several rigid lines of dragons who stood stock still with their heads thrust proudly towards the sky. There were about fifty of them, lined up in five rows of ten, and they formed about a third of the Warfang Guard. Standing alongside the proud and stern adult dragons, were two much smaller dragons who looked quite out of place in the front line. But Spyro and Flame showed no nervousness as they and the Guard were given a stern look-over by Captain Seriphos.

"You all understand why we are here," Seriphos said as he paced, "you all understand our mission. All of you have agreed to offer your services, and you confirm that as you stand here before me. We may be facing danger the likes of which many of us have not seen for at least a year. But it is our duty to protect those who have faithfully helped us since before many of us arrived in this city. Without the cheetahs, this city and many of us might not even be here today. They assisted us in our time of need. It's time we repaid the favour."

The deep thrum of his voice and the depth of his words was like the rhythm of a warm wind through grassy plains. The Guard listened in silence, captivated, as the weight of their captain's words settled upon their shoulders.

"Our allies are in danger, but no matter the hardships we will not let them fall. We carry the honourable blood of our proud ancestors in our veins, and we are the great dragons of Warfang, once revered by all. We will stand tall in times of danger and assist those in need, like our ancestors before us," Seriphos paused and for a moment his eyes settled on Spyro. Then he looked up again and barked to the entire Guard, "Won't we?"

"Sir!" The Guard barked back, although there was some trepidation among their voices.

Seriphos halted in a proud, strong stance, "We are ready. Move out!"

The earth dragon captain spun on his hind paws, took a short run across the cobblestones of the courtyard, and sprang into the sky. Line by line, the Guard followed on behind. When they were in the air, Spyro turned his head to look back down at the courtyard. The Guardians looked back at him from the ground, as did Cynder and Ember. The armour-clad purple dragon sorely hoped he would be seeing them all again soon.

A simple nod was all he could manage as a way of farewell, but it was a gesture that also said "I'll be back soon." He found his place next to Flame as Seriphos shouted at them to keep formation. Like a flock of birds they covered the sky, a brave force headed for Avalar. There, the cheetahs awaited them.

Far away among the unforgiving sands of the Badlands, the panthers, too, were preparing for battle. The twins called a single panther to their quarters the evening after Silt's report. The panther they summoned was young and sleek, with intelligent olive-green eyes. His name was Orpheus.

"You called me, masters?" the young panther greeted formally, with a short respectful bow to the twins. While Skulk looked him up and down with a scrutinising gaze, Skelos addressed him.

"Orpheus," he said with an approving glint in his eye, "There has been a new development. Silt has reported that the chieftain of the cheetah tribe has deserted his village. We are mounting an attack."

Orpheus's eyes widened at the unexpected news, "An attack, sir? And why have you summoned me?"

"I'm glad you asked," Skelos replied with a dark smile, "You see, one of our assassins was brought down by the cheetahs. What we are after is a new panther to take his place; someone strong, fast, loyal and deadly. Someone…like _you_."

Orpheus gave a start, but covered it up quickly by asking, "Me, master Skelos?"

Skulk spoke up, "My brother tells me that you have shown great promise. We are willing to induct you into our elite guard, the Assassins, but only…only if you can pass this test."

Somehow, Orpheus had a feeling he knew what that test would be. He didn't need to ask, anyway, because Skelos explained almost instantly.

"You will lead a force of two hundred warriors to the Valley of Avalar where you will meet up with the rest of the elite guard," Skelos said, pacing around Orpheus as he spoke, "That should be more than enough to subdue the cheetahs. You will invade their village, killing as little as possible. We want to cheetahs alive, not dead. They may prove valuable assets to our clan once they have been subdued."

"We will be waiting here for your report once you have secured the cheetah village," Skulk added, "If you succeed, we shall guide the rest of the clan to the valley and soon…"

"…we will control the Valley of Avalar, like our ancestors before us." Skelos finished, fixing his deep blue eyes on Orpheus, "Do you accept this responsibility, Orpheus?"

Stiff-backed and heart hammering, Orpheus took a few moments to reply. But when he did his voice was steady and controlled, "I accept, masters. It is a great honour to be given this duty. I will do my utmost to succeed and earn my place among the elite guard."

Skulk nodded approvingly and turned away, but not before adding, "Rally your troops. You leave at dawn."

Before Orpheus could leave, Skelos stopped him with a paw on his shoulder. The younger panther looked up at his leader, olive eyes questioning. Skelos pressed something cold and smooth like glass into Orpheus's paw. It was about the size of the pad of his paw and shaped like a smooth dome.

"Take this. It may be useful to you."

Orpheus slipped the object into the pocket of his tunic, "Thank you, Master Skelos."

"May the winds be in your favour," Skelos responded softly and watched as Orpheus left the hut and stepped out into the night-washed sandy streets of the village.

In the days that followed, the dragons at Avalar would find themselves with little to do other than wait tensely for something to happen. Spyro and Flame spent the hours mock battling each other and hunting with the cheetahs. But the atmosphere was tense and unsettling as though they were waiting for a storm to break. Sooner or later, the panthers would show their shadowy faces. Of that, Spyro was certain.

Meanwhile, the citizens of Warfang were beginning to fall back into their old routine. The guardians decided barely a day after Spyro left, to recommence classes for the young dragons. Many younglings were unhappy about this, but it reassured those few who had been wondering why the classes had yet to resume. The guardians had made these decisions on the grounds that, despite the lingering threat outside the city, the daily routines of Warfang should be kept as normal as possible. And so classes resumed, despite the absence of the physical combat teacher, Seriphos.

But while all this seemed quite normal and reassuring to Cynder, she found that there was one development that was leaving her feeling quite irked. With the purple dragon gone – it was common knowledge throughout the city – one dragon in particular seemed to think he now had a free reign. Indeed, Cynder could hardly find some space to herself without Chasm tailing her.

"Just give him a piece of your mind," Saffron had urged the black dragoness a day after Spyro's departure, "Or at least a thrashing from that tailblade of yours."

Cynder looked over her shoulder to find Chasm jostling his way through the crowd in the hall, no doubt in an attempt to catch up to her. He'd been attempting to tell her something when Saffron and Ember had whisked her away, having noticed their friend's irritation. Her emerald eyes narrowed and she turned her gaze back to the front.

"Retaliating with violence is only going to make things worse," Cynder replied stubbornly, strutting proudly beside her two friends. Ember resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"But it might make him leave you alone!" the pink dragoness argued, "I've seen the way he talks to you! He thinks you're some kind of helpless dragoness, like the other prissy hatchlings around here!" Ember scowled at a nearby ice dragoness as she said this, who was busy batting her eyelashes at a burly fire dragon.

"It's about time you showed him who the mighty Cynder – Terror of the Skies! – really is!" Saffron added with a pearly grin, tossing her head. Cynder snorted a puff of shadowy black smoke.

"Oh sure, that'll scare him away," the black dragoness snorted sarcastically, "The idiot thinks he's the toughest thing on this planet! No doubt that'll make him want to get to me more."

"You've _got_ to stand up to him!" Ember tried again, almost tripping over her own paws as two ice dragons bullied past her in the corridor, "Spyro's not always going to be here to do that for you!"

Clearly, this struck a nerve in the black dragoness, for she shot Ember an icy glare and halted stock still in the middle of the hallway. Several dragons had to skid to a halt or stagger sideways to avoid her.

"Is that what you think?" Cynder growled, narrowing her eyes dangerously, "I don't need Spyro to protect me! And besides, I've seen the way Flame coddles you! Why not try standing up for _yourself_, Ember, before you start lecturing me!"

Ember drew herself up to full height, her slightly bulkier body making Cynder look frail in comparison, "Well I'm not the one with thick-headed earth dragons throwing themselves at me, now am I? Why don't you try standing up for yourself, instead of just parading around like you enjoy all the attention?"

"Hey," Saffron muttered half-heartedly, noticing the looks they were getting from passing dragons, "knock it off, would you?"

"Enjoy it?" Cynder shrieked, ignoring Saffron completely, "Would you enjoy it if some bone-headed, thick-skulled, self-absorbed _ignoramus_ followed you around all and every day?"

"I dunno!" Ember yelled back, "But if it was me, _I'd_ have the guts to turn around and kick his tail back to where he belongs!"

Saffron sighed and sat down, ignoring the interested glances of passers-by. Cynder bristled furiously, her eyes flashing with dangerous intent.

"Fine! Fine then!" the black dragoness yelped, her voice rising to a high pitched shriek, "I'll do it your way!"

And then, to the surprise of both Ember and Saffron, she turned around and stalked back along the corridor towards where Chasm was still trying to get through. The pink and yellow dragonesses exchanged glances.

"Think she's actually gonna do it?" Saffron wondered allowed. Ember shrugged and watched.

"Chasm!" Cynder's voice carried down the hall as the earth dragon stumbled to a halt in front of her.

"Cyn!" he bared a toothy grin, shamelessly using the nickname she hated, "I thought I'd lost you in the crowd."

"I have something to tell you, Chasm." Ember could see Cynder's tail swishing dangerously backwards and forwards, like an irritated cat ready to pounce.

"What is-?" Chasm began cluelessly, only to be cut off.

"Stay away from me!" Cynder snarled forcefully, to the surprise of everyone within earshot, "I'm sick and tired of being followed around day in, day out, like you're some kind of lost hatchling! I don't need to be tailed every waking hour of the day, especially by a thick-headed idiot like you! Find someone else to fawn over and stop _following_ me!"

Chasm's jaw unhinged, his mouth hanging open stupidly, "Wha…?"

Cynder leaned forwards, her muzzle dangerously close to his, and hissed, "Got that?"

"But…" the earth dragon tried to argue, his eyes confused and a little frightened. But Cynder had already spun around, her tailblade narrowly missing his snout, and was stalking away from him with her head held high. Chasm stared dumbly after her, not moving, even as the dragons around him started to move again. They jostled him in the corridor as they slipped past.

"Nice," Ember muttered reluctantly as Cynder stalked back to her. The black dragoness still had that icy look in her eye that told Ember she wasn't entirely forgiven yet.

"You showed him," Saffron said brightly, hopping up and continuing along the corridor.

"He'll be back," Cynder muttered bitterly, "I just know it."

They found Thasos waiting for them in one of the classrooms on the third floor. Already, most of the dragons in their class were there, talking animatedly while they waited for the lesson to start. The three dragonesses took their spots next to Zannak and Ciro, who were lounging near the window.

"Was wondering where you three were," said Ciro, raising his head as they approached, "Reckon Master Thasos is getting impatient."

"Sorry," muttered Cynder, sitting down beside them.

"We were…" Saffron glanced at Cynder's disgruntled expression, "held up."

"Don't suppose you've seen Zephira or Kazan around, have you?" Zannak asked, "They haven't shown up either."

But the three dragonesses shook their heads as Thasos began to speak.

"I think we've waited long enough," said the fire guardian, "Welcome back, everyone. I know the break has been a little longer than we anticipated, due to… events beyond our control. But lessons are back now and there is no excuse for not attending classes. I trust you have all been studying in your time off?"

There was a chorus of mutinous grumblings around the room and Zannak snorted quite audibly, "Studying? Yeah right."

Thasos looked sternly at his pupils, "Apparently not. In that case, let us start off with some simple revision. Who can tell me the five main elements?"

Ember raised her wing, "Those would be Fire, Earth, Ice, Electricity and Wind."

"Good, good," Thasos nodded, "Someone else, now, can you tell me what the final three, much rarer elements are?"

There was silence for a moment before Cynder raised her wing, "Convexity…"

"That's one," Thasos agreed, gesturing for her to go on.

"Time…" the black dragoness continued, and then faltered.

"And the final element?" The fire guardian pressed.

Cynder opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment the door sprung open and Zephira staggered in looking flustered. All eyes turned to the little white wind dragoness, who blushed under their stares.

"S-sorry I'm late," she stammered, quailing under Thasos's stern gaze, "I slept in."

"Well, sit down quickly," Thasos said, ushering her away from the door and closing it, "We're just revising what we know of the elements."

Zephira hurried over to sit with her friends, hissing in Ciro's ear as she did, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Since when have you needed me to wake you up?" her ice brother replied with a good-natured snort. Zephira blushed and looked at her paws.

"It's alright, you didn't miss much," Saffron reassured her. Thasos was speaking again, but seemed to have forgotten that Cynder had been about to answer his question. Instead he'd moved on to something entirely different.

"Most dragons can control at least one of the five common elements," he was saying, "Only the purple dragon has ever been recorded to have controlled all four. However, there are some dragons who cannot control any of the common elements. These dragons…"

"Have you seen Kazan lately?" Ciro hissed to his sister, pushing Thasos's lecture to the back of his mind. Zannak and the dragonesses stopped to listen to Zephira's answer.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I thought he would be here with you. None of you have seen him?"

But they all shook their heads. Thasos continued speaking in the background, his lecture turning to oracles and magic. Cynder frowned.

"Strange, I wonder where he could be," the black dragoness murmured, "Maybe he slept in?"

"Or he doesn't realise classes are back on," Saffron muttered, "I wouldn't be surprised."

Zannak shook his head, "It's weird. I haven't seen him since yesterday evening. He wasn't in the Main Hall this morning, either."

"I'm sure he's around somewhere," Zephira tried to reassure them all. A silence followed her remark.

"…magic dragons disappeared over a thousand years ago, when the first purple dragon was but an egg…" Thasos's lecture continued, drowning out their thoughts. But Ember and Cynder exchanged glances, knowing they were thinking the same thing.

If Kazan was missing, there was only one place he could be.

The night at Avalar was peaceful, despite the guards that paced the perimeter of the cheetah village. The dragons slept out in the open, some pressed close together around dying campfires. A few cheetahs joined them, having lost their huts in the previous invasion. A cool wind rustled fur and swept over scales, scattering the dying embers of campfires.

Flame and Spyro had settled down several tail-lengths away from the rest of the dragons, in the shadows near the wall of the village. Flame's sleep was undisturbed, his sides rising and falling evenly. But there was nothing peaceful about Spyro's slumber. His body twitched with the occasional spasm, his paws clawing at the earth of their own accord as small whimpers escaped his mouth. His eyelids flickered feverishly over his rolling eyes.

The purple dragon found himself lying on a bed of cushions within his room back at Warfang. The hanging nest above his head was empty, swinging backwards and forwards in the breeze that flowed through the room. He was alone.

Feeling strangely dazed, Spyro turned his lilac eyes towards the balcony. The curtain hanging in the archway blew inwards for a split second, revealing a dark and stormy sky outside. Without really knowing why, the purple dragon stood up and padded towards it. He brushed the curtain aside, stepped out onto the balcony, and gazed upon the hellish sky that greeted him.

A swirling vortex of purple, blue and inky black clouds consumed the sky above the dark city of Warfang. The wind roared in his ears, sucked towards the centre of the vortex, threatening to pull him along with it. Spyro knew what this was. This was the portal to Convexity, a sight he had not seen since Cynder had opened it several years ago. A cold shudder passed over the purple dragon's body.

Around him the balcony began to crack, the edges disintegrating into sand that was pulled mercilessly towards the roaring portal above him. Spyro turned his head, but his room was no longer there. Only wisps of sand remained, rising upwards with the wind. The rest was only inky blackness. If he did not act, Spyro would soon be dragged into the portal with the rest of his balcony.

It was only then that he turned his eyes downwards, towards the streets of the city below his balcony. But the streets were swathed with shadows; hoards of black, cat-shaped shadows. Thousands of glowing white eyes stared up at him, black paws reaching towards the sky.

'_Jump, Spyro.'_

A thousand ghostly voices echoed through his head, rows of white eyes rippling among the shadows below.

'_Jump, Spyro. We'll catch you.'_

A chill ran down Spyro's spine, a thrill of sudden horror that turned his blood to ice. His eyes widened and froze with terror. The shadows reach towards him with inky paws, urging him to fall.

'_Jump, Spyro. Jump.'_

Blind with horror, the purple dragon took a step backward. But that was a lethal mistake. The balcony crumbled under his claws, turning to dust and spiralling upwards towards the swirling vortex of despair. Spyro scrambled frantically for a foothold, but found none as the crumbled pieces of balcony rose around him. But he didn't rise with them.

Instead he found himself falling; falling down towards the swarm of shadows and the rippling sea of glowing white eyes.

"ARRRRGHHH!" Spyro screamed as he woke, his head shooting up. For one wild instant he was blinded by white, and then something heavy struck his head and pinned him down. He struggled wildly for a moment until a familiar voice growled his name.

"Spyro!"

Panting, Spyro stopped struggling and blinked. The white haze faded and he found himself back in the cheetah village. The sky was still dark and the first rays of dawn were only just poking above the tops of the trees. There was a weight on his shoulders that Spyro soon realised was Flame. The red dragon's hefty paws were pinning him to the earth.

"What was that about?" Flame muttered, hesitantly removing his hold on the purple dragon, "I thought you were about to attack everyone. Bad dream?"

Spyro looked around hesitantly. Mostly everyone else was still asleep, although some had been woken by his scream. Momentarily, he recalled the dream that had woken him and shuddered at the memory.

"Yeah," Spyro mumbled, "more like a nightmare."

Flame grunted and stood up stretching, "Must have been some nightmare. Coming hunting? It's still early, but there's no use going back to sleep now. Besides, I've got a hankering for some rabbit."

"Yeah, ok," Spyro mumbled distractedly, his mind still on his dream. That was the second time he had woken so violently that someone had needed to bring him back to his senses. The thought that it could easily happened again scared him for reasons he couldn't explain.

Still with those thoughts in mind, Spyro followed his fiery friend out of the village, ignoring the curious glances of the guards who must have heard the commotion. They headed into the trees, pushing their way through low growing bushes as the leaf litter muffled their pawfalls. Dawn spread a golden light over the leaves, barely warming in the chill air of morning.

Flame didn't speak much as they walked, which left Spyro to dwell on his thoughts, which were recently both dark and brooding. They had only been in Avalar for a single night and a day, but already he missed Cynder. He felt strangely empty and cold without her, like the spark in his heart had been put out or, at the very least, left behind with her in Warfang. He missed the sparkle of her eyes and her occasionally mocking, but always beautiful laugh. And he missed the feeling of contentment that warmed his heart whenever she was near – like she was the only dragon who could ever understand him.

Without her, his dreams and thoughts seemed all the more dark and fearful.

"I _know_ there's rabbits about here somewhere," Flame said suddenly, irritably, "I found a burrow a few moons ago, last time we came visiting. Where are they?"

Spyro jerked out of his thoughts and realised they'd walked quite a way from the village. He hadn't even noticed. They were now thick in the forest, where hardly any light could penetrate. Spyro briefly wondered how Flame could think he'd find rabbits here. They'd be more likely to stumble across frogweeds or, at the very least, a clump of toadstools.

"I don't think we'll find much in here," said Spyro softly, "We should head back to the meadow."

"Maybe we'll find something down this way," said Flame, stubbornly ignoring Spyro's suggestion. He pushed his way through the thick leafy bushes, which left droplets of dew clinging to his vibrant scales.

With a sigh, Spyro plodded after him. The further they crept into the forest, the colder it seemed to become. Spyro kept his wings folded close to his sides, trying to keep as much warmth in as he could. But still the cold crept in, and the leaf litter beneath his paws was like ice. Then, quite strangely, the trees seemed to open out into a small clearing. Pale sunlight touched the forest floor. Spyro stopped abruptly.

The base of a huge tree sat nestled in the heart of the forest. The trunk appeared to have been worn away, so that it now rose no higher than the tallest hut in the cheetah village. But, if the massive wall-like roots and the impressive circumference of the trunk were anything to go by, this tree had once been of colossal height. No doubt the gap in the canopy far above them had once been filled by its tangle of foliage. But now it just sat, tired and dead, a mere shadow of what it had once been.

Feeling strangely awed, like he had just stumbled into the presence of a revered creature both aged and wise, Spyro strode forwards into the hollow formed by the trees two largest roots. As he moved closer, he saw that the old tree's wood was rotted and slick with mould. A musky, earthy scent filled his nostrils. A strange calm came over Spyro as he raised his paw and touched the old bark at the base of the tree. It was cool and softened by moss.

Just as Spyro shifted his paw to take it off the trunk, a strange thing happened. The whispering of the wind around him and the sound of Flame walking through the leaf litter suddenly became fuzzy, like he was listening from far away. His vision blurred for a brief instant and a strange picture flashed into his mind. Shadowy creatures were standing at the base of a great tree, encircled by its massive roots, hidden in the shadow cast by its canopy. A sole, lithe figure stood alone upon the highest root, elevated far above all the others.

For a split second, Spyro thought he saw yellow eyes blazing from the figure's face, and then he was once again staring at the mossy trunk of the ancient tree. The purple dragon blinked and looked behind him. There were no shadowy figures, only Flame, who was snooping around the roots looking for something to pounce on. Nor was there a figure standing above him on the roots, as Spyro saw when he looked up. Backing away from the trunk of the tree, he wondered what it was that he had just seen.

Who were those shadowy figures? Spyro had a strange feeling he knew, but couldn't place it. He felt strangely unreal here, in the shadow of the massive trunk.

"Nothing here," Flame's voice cut through him suddenly, as the red dragon plodded across the clearing towards him, "Not even a Toadweed. Waste of time that was. Race you back to the meadow?"

Spyro glanced back at the rotted old tree and felt an ethereal chill seep through him. He shook himself quickly and turned away, forcing a strained smile for Flame, "Ok."

"Last one there's a Frogweed!" Flame yelled and dashed into the trees without looking back. He seemed entirely unaffected by the strange aura of the tree.

Half-heartedly, Spyro cantered after him. He didn't dare look back, in case the strange spell of the old tree trapped him forever. Puffing slightly, Spyro followed the sound of Flame crashing through the undergrowth all the way back to the meadow.

"You're slow today, Spyro," the red dragon commented once Spyro had joined him.

It was now creeping towards mid-morning, and the sun spread a much warmer light over their scales. Spyro felt better now, out in the sunlight, away from the cold and otherworldly aura of the ancient tree.

"Still haven't caught a rabbit, I see," he smirked in response, to which Flame grimaced.

"I'm working on it," the red dragon muttered.

They spent the next half hour hunting for rabbits in the many hills and grassy knolls of the meadow. Eventually Flame spotted one out of its burrow, but missed it by a hair as it dashed back down the hole. He was in a bad mood for the next five minutes, until he saw another one hopping across the meadow and promptly pounced on it. By the time Spyro caught his own, Flame had already devoured his and was busy licking the remnants from his lips.

"Slow again," Flame mocked as Spyro sat down next to him, a rabbit dangling from his jaws. His rabbit's head and a few other remnants littered the grass between his paws. With a simple snort of flame, Flame incinerated the scraps and scattered the ashes.

Spyro tore a strip from his prey and didn't answer. His mouth watered at the taste of fresh, uncooked meat – quite different from the meals served by the moles at Warfang, and strangely enticing. But his meal was interrupted. Flame's head shot up as the bushes at the edge of the meadow rustled violently and fell still.

"What was that?" the fire dragon said, standing up.

Spyro was reluctant to get up from his meal, "Probably just another rabbit or something. Leave it be, you've had your meal."

But Flame's eyes were narrowed with suspicion, "That didn't sound like a rabbit. Too big…"

Spyro hesitated, raising his muzzle from his half-finished rabbit and licking blood from his snout. The bushes rustled again, but stopped abruptly when Spyro looked at them. Flame lowered himself into a crouch.

"Something is spying on us," he hissed to Spyro, "and I'm willing to bet it's not friendly."

"What can you do?" Spyro hissed back, "It's already seen us, there's no use trying to sneak up on it now."

Flame straightened up abruptly and said loudly, to Spyro's great surprise, "It's probably nothing. I'm still hungry. I'm gonna go catch another rabbit."

And before Spyro could say anything, the red dragon turned and stalked away, leaving him utterly bewildered. Shrugging, the purple dragon continued to feast on his prey, keeping one eye on the bushes as he did so. Then he noticed Flame had doubled back and skirted around the edge of the meadow, close to the trees. He was creeping ever closer to the bushes that the creature, whatever it was, was hiding in. Suddenly Spyro understood, and looked back down at his meal, careful not to give Flame's position away.

He heard the bushes rustle softly again, and saw Flame crouch out of the corner of his eye. Then, like lightning, the red dragon pounced. There was a snarl from within the bushes, Flame disappeared into the leaves, and Spyro heard the sounds of a quick violent scuffle. Then came Flame's exclamation of shock and, next moment, two red dragons tumbled out of the bushes.

"What the heck are _you _doing here?" Flame snarled.

Kazan squirmed under his grip, trying and failing to free himself. Spyro instantly forgot about his half-finished rabbit and cantered over to them. Flame had Kazan pinned to the grass, and the latter looked as sullen as ever.

"Kazan! What are you doing here?" Spyro exclaimed, repeating what Flame had already asked.

The dark crimson dragon turned to glare at him, still squirming under Flame's paws, "Tell him to get off me!"

"Flame, let him up!" Spyro said quickly, but the angry red dragon ignored him.

"You were spying on us!" Flame snarled, his claws nearly piercing the scales on Kazan's shoulders.

"I wasn't! I was…" Kazan's voice trailed off, as though he'd forgotten what he was going to say, or hadn't known in the first place.

"Get off him!" Spyro tried again, in a firmer voice. Reluctantly, Flame backed off.

Kazan rolled onto his belly and sat up, still glaring at Flame but avoiding Spyro's eyes. The purple dragon looked him over, noticing the smudges of dirt that covered his usually striking crimson scales, and the scratches on his muzzle. It looked like he'd been hiding in the forest for a while.

"Why are you here, Kazan?" he asked solemnly. Kazan averted his eyes and mumbled something. "Kazan?"

"I wanted to help, ok?" the crimson fire dragon snapped suddenly, eyes blazing.

Flame leered, "Since when have we needed help from _you_?"

Kazan seethed with anger, but Spyro cut in before he could utter his retaliation.

"Did you bring this up with Seriphos before we left?" the purple dragon asked. Kazan didn't meet his eyes or reply, but that was enough for Spyro.

"You shouldn't have come," he sighed gravely, "If things get dangerous and no one else knows you're here…"

"I can handle myself!" Kazan argued, but Spyro didn't look impressed. He glanced towards the cheetah village on the other side of the river and could vaguely see a few of the dragon guards pacing around the perimeter. They probably hadn't seen them yet.

"Regardless, you shouldn't have come without telling anyone," Spyro told him, "You need to tell Seriphos. They will worry about you back at Warfang and if no one knows you're here…if something happens to you…"

Kazan looked aghast, "I'm not telling Seriphos! The instant he knows I'm here, he'll send me back to Warfang! You know what he's like!"

Spyro scowled, "I know he cares about the safety of his troops and everyone at Warfang! If you won't tell him, then I will! And if he believes the right course of action is to send you home, then so be it! You shouldn't have snuck out after us in the first place!"

"You can't tell him!" Kazan protested, and would have said more if Flame hadn't cut in.

"Don't tell us what we can't do!" Flame snapped, tail lashing, "How long have you been hanging around here, anyway? It doesn't seem like you just got here."

Kazan scowled at his feet, "Since yesterday morning. I snuck out at midnight, the night you left."

"And you've been hiding in the forest waiting to ambush the panthers all on your own, no doubt," Flame sneered, scorn colouring his voice. Kazan glared.

"I knew if I showed myself, Seriphos would send me straight back to Warfang," he said, turning his eyes on Spyro, "Spyro, I know you understand. I just want to fight; to prove that I'm…that I'm strong, that I _can _fight. Just...give me a chance! Don't tell Seriphos!"

Spyro stared hard at the crimson dragon. He did understand. He understood every bit of what Kazan was feeling – his eagerness to prove himself; his yearning to convince others he wasn't weak; the drive to prove he was more than what the eye could show. Had he been the dragon he'd been a year ago, Spyro might have relented. But he was scared; scared of being responsible for the death of another life, scared to put another in danger when it wasn't necessary. He couldn't handle having another life resting fully on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Kazan," Spyro sighed, averting his gaze, "Seriphos needs to know. I'm going to go tell him."

Kazan gaped, mouthing wordlessly as he tried to find the words to argue. But Spyro was already walking away, heading across the meadow towards the river and the village beyond. Flame nudged the other fire dragon roughly, knocking him off balance.

"Come on," he ordered gruffly, "I'm taking you back to the village, before you can run off."

Kazan wanted to argue, but he knew it was fruitless. Wings drooping in defeat, he allowed Flame to herd him across the meadow after Spyro. The three dragons glided across the river and made their way up the slope to the cheetah village, Kazan in the middle. The guards seemed mildly surprised to see them.

Spyro located Seriphos upon entering the village. The green dragon was wearing striking silver armour, minus the helm, and he stood out handsomely. As he approached, the first thing Seriphos said was, "You're not wearing your armour, Spyro?"

"Oh," Spyro turned his head. He had taken his armour off to sleep, and it now lay in a bronze heap where he had left it. But the purple dragon shook his head and looked behind him, where Kazan was standing anxiously and Flame was looking annoyed.

"Seriphos," Spyro started, turning to face the dragon captain again, "we…uh…"

"What is it, Spyro?" Seriphos asked, frowning, "Is it something about the panthers? Have you seen something?"

But Spyro shook his head, "No, it…it's not that. You see, we were hunting and…we found him hiding in the bushes…"

He stepped aside as he said this, revealing a rather defeated looking Kazan. Seriphos's brown eyes widened and then narrowed in quick succession.

"Young dragon – Kazan, isn't it?" said the green dragon, striding forwards with a serious look on his face, "What in the name of the ancestors are you doing here? You should be in Warfang, with the rest of the young dragons!"

"Spyro and Flame are here!" Kazan retaliated swiftly, looking abashed, "I just want to help, too!"

"Spyro and Flame have proved themselves as true warriors before," Seriphos replied coolly, "But that is hardly our concern. Our concern is why _you_, when you are clearly not part of my guard, are here! Explain yourself!"

Kazan seemed to wilt slightly, but quickly straightened up with a look of defiance, "I told you! I want to help fight off the panthers! I'm not a bad fighter! I can help!"

"If you had wanted to join the Guard, you should have approached me before we left, instead of sneaking out after us," Seriphos said, looking down gravely at the young fire dragon, "You should have realised I would send you back to Warfang."

"I know," Kazan muttered bitterly, "that's why I didn't want to show myself."

Seriphos's eyes blazed angrily and Kazan said quickly, "But now that I'm here I might as well stay to help, right? Don't send me back to Warfang! At least give me a chance!"

"Your place, young dragon, is back at the dragon city," Seriphos said with a shake of his head, "Regardless of your intentions, your actions in coming here were foolish. This place is dangerous in these present times and I can assure you that these panthers are not to be trifled with. I will be sending you back to Warfang before you can make any more such foolish decisions and put yourself in even more danger."

Kazan gaped, "But, sir…!"

Seriphos's stern gaze quickly silenced him, "I will have a guard escort you back to Warfang as soon as possible. That is my final word."

It didn't take long for the earth dragon captain to find a guard for Kazan. The young fire dragon bid a gloomy farewell to Spyro and Flame as he was ushered from the village. Spyro watched him go, feeling a little guilty.

"It's for your own good," he wanted to tell Kazan, but knew it would only make him feel worse. So he stayed silent and watched as the young dragon and his guard took to the skies and headed back to Warfang.

"Well, now that that's over," said Flame abruptly, turning to Spyro, "wanna spar?"

Spyro looked away from the diminishing form of Kazan, "Fine, but this time, no elemental attacks."

Flame grinned, "You read my mind."

Kazan had thought it would be hard to escape from his guard, who had been given orders to see him right to the guardians at Warfang. However, he was pleasantly surprised that it was only too easy to give the older dragon the slip. Seriphos had appointed an ice dragon to do the job, and he bored Kazan for over an hour with his constant talking.

Apparently he'd been in Warfang throughout the war, had seen the Dark Army attack and been part of the fighting, and had even seen Spyro and Cynder battle the Golem. He hardly stopped gloating about it. Even more annoying, Kazan found, was that he continuously praised the Ice Guardian Cyril and his ice dragon ancestors. Kazan sorely hoped that all ice dragons weren't this pompous.

But there was an upside to this. Distracted as he was by his own voice, the ice dragon hardly noticed Kazan slowly falling behind. It was almost midday and the great dragon city could be seen looming on the horizon, like some majestic mirage. Kazan knew it was now or never to make his escape.

Ignoring the ice dragon's account of how he had once met Cyril, the young fire dragon closed his wings to his body and dropped like a stone towards the trees below. Entirely unaware that his charge had just dropped out of the sky, the ice dragon continued on his merry way, still chatting to nobody. It would take him almost a quarter of an hour to realise the young dragon was missing.

Meanwhile, Kazan dropped soundlessly into the canopy, the foliage cushioning his fall, landed in a tangle of branches and jumped down onto the forest floor. He glanced up quickly to make sure his guard hadn't noticed, and saw the small blue shape far above him continue on its way and out of sight. Grinning at his success, Kazan cantered off through the undergrowth, back towards the valley.

It was a while later that he heard someone calling his name and realised his guard had finally come back to look for him. The young dragon quickly hid himself in a nearby thistle bush, the mud plastered over his body obscuring his vibrant crimson scales. Minutes later, the ice dragon came stumbling through the forest, calling out for his charge.

"Kazan! Come out! I know you're hiding!" the ice dragon called, sounding desperate, "Seriphos will be furious! I'm supposed to take you back to Warfang! Oh, where are you?"

Kazan remained as still as possibly, holding his breath. But he had no need to worry. The guard dragon continued blindly on his way through the forest, passing Kazan's hiding place without a second glance. He was soon out of sight, but it wasn't until long after the sound of him crashing through the forest had ceased, that Kazan dared to move.

Stretching his cramped muscles, the young fire dragon shook leaves from his body and slunk back towards the valley after his oblivious guard.

Spyro and Flame were still scuffling, and had even garnered a small audience, by the time the ice dragon raced back into the village. Spyro had just pinned Flame down, the fire dragon squirming furiously in the dirt, when he heard the commotion.

"I lost him, captain!" the ice dragon was gasping, "One minute he was there, and the next he was gone! He must have given me the slip!"

Seriphos didn't looked pleased, "How could he have given you the slip? I told you to not to take your eyes off him!"

"I-I'm sorry, captain…" the guard mumbled timidly, wilting under the captain's glare.

Flame raised his head, snorting dirt from his nostrils, "What's going on?"

Spyro let his sparring partner up, frowning in Seriphos's direction, "Sounds like Kazan gave his guard the slip…"

Flame spat dirt, looking disgusted, "What? That idiot! What's he thinking?"

"Well, what's done is done," Seriphos was saying, looking greatly annoyed, "Right now, our main concern in finding the young dragon before any harm can come to him."

"And before he can do anything stupid," Flame muttered to Spyro.

Seriphos pawed the ground anxiously, glancing towards the midday sun, "I will send a search party to bring him back here. I want him found before nightfall. Better here with us, than alone in the forest. Who knows when the panthers will strike next?"

"Do you want us to help?" Spyro asked, striding over to the captain. Flame followed.

Seriphos glanced at the two young dragons thoughtfully, but shook his head, "No, you had best remain here, where it is safer. Continue your training, young dragons, you're doing well. Leave Kazan to us; we'll find him."

The captain strode away, leaving the two young dragons to exchange dark looks.

"Think they'll find him?" Flame muttered.

Spyro's face was worried as he replied, "I hope so."

Kazan knew they would be looking for him. He also knew that the cheetahs knew this valley like the backs of their paws. What he needed was a good hiding place; somewhere they wouldn't think to look.

So, while Seriphos was organising the search party at the cheetah village, Kazan was snooping around the valley, looking for a place to hide. Kazan had a plan. For now he would hide, but once the panthers attacked he would jump out and join the fighting. Maybe no one would notice him in the commotion.

It took him almost a whole half hour, a very tense half hour as half the cheetah village was out looking for him, before Kazan found something. He was hiding behind one of the waterfalls and getting very wet in the process, watching the cheetah patrol move past. Once they had gone, he stumbled out of the falling water and looked around for a better hiding spot. It was then that his eyes fell on the wall of stone right next to the waterfall.

The rock was darkened in places where the spray from the waterfall had struck. But what caught Kazan's eye were the strange carvings in the rock; weird, spiky runes that could have been letters of another language. Looking around to make sure no more patrols were lurking about, Kazan edged over to the cliff face. No sooner had he reached out a paw to touch the carved runes, did the whole cliff face rumble and begin to move. Or so it seemed.

But Kazan soon realised, despite his shock, that it was only a small section of the cliff that was moving – the section carved with the runes. It was like a door sliding open and soon Kazan found himself staring into a dark tunnel that led into the stone and curved out of sight. Heart pounding, he took one last glance behind him and slunk into the tunnel.

The stone door slid shut behind him, accompanied by a sheet of dust falling from the ceiling and a dull rumbling sound. Kazan flinched as it did so and found himself in utter darkness. Briefly he wondered if this meant he was trapped in here, but quickly pushed that worrisome thought aside. He would find a way out, and at least he was hidden.

Closing his eyes, Kazan concentrated hard on the fire that always flowed through his veins. He felt the scales on his back heat up slowly and, seconds later, his crest began to glow. Kazan's head crest was longer than most dragons'. It stretched all the way from the middle of his forehead to the curve of his rump. And, at the moment, it was glowing like it was made of fire itself. His tailblade, too, which was also shaped like a tongue of flame, was shining. Kazan had taught himself this trick whilst he had been living in the caverns below the mountains, where he had grown up. It came in quite handy when exploring dark tunnels.

Calm now that he had light, the young fire dragon made his way deeper into the winding tunnel. It wasn't long before he could see daylight seeping through the other end. The glow of his crest and tailblade faded and he ran towards the light, bursting out onto the bank of a fast-flowing creek. Kazan had to scrambled backwards quickly to stop himself tumbling over the edge and into the water.

Surprised, he craned his head upwards and saw a strip of sky far above, between two ragged walls of stone. There was a tunnel leading into a cliff face on the opposite side of the bank. Kazan glanced up the river, which flowed between two walls of stone, and saw that the water disappeared around a corner up the far end. Curious, the red dragon spread his wings and took flight.

There was a strong wind blowing with the river and it buffeted Kazan's wings ruthlessly as he tried to fly, almost forcing him back. But he pushed onwards, eyes narrowed against the gale, talons almost brushing the foaming surface of the river. Twice he was almost forced sideways into the rock wall and was forced to flip sideways and do an awkward sort of run along the cliff face. The ravine seemed to get narrower the further upstream he went.

At last he reached the bend in the river and fought against the wind as he tried to turn. Again he hit the rock wall, absorbing the shock with his legs, and sprang off it awkwardly. The wind buffeted his wings violently, tossing him towards the rushing river. His tail struck the water and was pulled under before Kazan had a chance to right himself, but he gave a great flap of his wings and rose up against the wind, sending spray flying.

He soon found himself in a large alcove of sorts, surrounded on three sides by towering rock walls, where grass grew and vines climbed up the cliff faces. Out of the wind at last, Kazan glided down to the grassy bank of the river and looked around the alcove. Further up the cliff face in the far corner, where the rock jutted out slightly, he could see the outline of a small cave. Kazan had a strange feeling that something lived there. Curious and only a little afraid, the fire dragon winged his way up to it.

He landed on the jutting rock shelf at the mouth of the cave and stared into it. Inside, he could faintly see the remains of a campfire and something shadowy nestled in the corner. Carefully, Kazan edged forwards.

"Welcome, little dragon," said a creaky, high-pitched voice that made Kazan jump a foot in the air and put his teeth on edge.

"Wh-who's there?" the young dragon stammered, staring into the dark cave.

The shadowy figure moved slightly and Kazan saw the outline of a furry paw as it swept over the remains of the campfire. A fire suddenly sprang from the ash and wood, much to Kazan's shock. In the firelight, the figure became eerily illuminated. It had a thin, greying body covered with a tattered tunic and an old cloak, with a large pair of ears hidden under a thin hood. Kazan saw a pair of alarming yellow eyes peering out from under the shadow of that hood. It was a cheetah; a very old one.

"Why have you come here?" the old cheetah asked, in that strange creaking voice. It was leaning heavily on a roughly carved staff.

It took Kazan several minutes to answer; he was too busy gaping at the ancient creature. At last he found his voice and stammered, "I...I was looking for a place to hide."

The old cheetah's face cracked into a yellowed smile, "Ah yes, the plight of a young dragon pursued by his friends, too stubborn to admit defeat, unable to comprehend the dangers that the valley holds…"

Kazan swallowed nervously, taking an involuntary step back, "D-dangers? You mean…the panthers?"

The cheetah's eyes seemed to glimmer, "The black ones are almost here. They have waited, biding their time, but soon the valley will be filled with shadow…"

His withered paw was moving over the flames of his campfire as he said this and Kazan watched, mesmerised. He thought he saw tiny dark figures wavering amongst the flames, wielding spears and thin swords, eyes glowing like fire.

"He will be discovered," the old one hissed, the tips of his claws touching the flames. The dark figures in the fire seemed to dance and sway with its movement.

"Who?" Kazan whispered, eyes still glued on the fire. But the old cheetah didn't answer.

"He will be discovered, and it will begin," he whispered, voice creaking, "The world will be plunged into darkness once more. He will be discovered. No lives will be lost, but the damage these events will cause will be far greater than the world can even imagine."

The old cheetah clenched his paw closed and the flames rose higher, as though on command. Kazan thought he saw a familiar figure in the fire, but it disappeared before he could get a closer look. His eyes instead moved upwards to the old cheetah's face.

"On that night, he will be discovered," the old one whispered. The flames spluttered and died abruptly.

Kazan blinked as though a spell had just broken and he'd been jerked out of a trance. He looked around; the alcove was as bright and sunny as before. A small stream of smoke was rising from the cheetah's campfire, and the old creature himself stood shrouded in shadow. Kazan took a deep breath, wondering what all that had been about.

"Right. You don't mind if I stay here for a while, do you? I won't bother you," Kazan said to the cheetah.

The old cat leered at him, "You cannot hide forever, young dragon."

Kazan sighed, "I know. My name is Kazan. What about you, do you have a name?"

There was a moments silence, then, "I had a name once. Did not we all? But it has long since been forgotten. Up at the village, I hear they call me the hermit. My name, young Kazan, is whatever you wish it to be."

"Right," Kazan looked the old cheetah up and down, wrinkling his nose, "I'll just call you Hermit, then."

The hermit didn't reply. Shrugging, Kazan turned around and glided back down to settle on the grass in the shade. The wind howled as it whisked through the ravine. Content that he would not be found here, Kazan let his head drop onto his paws and closed his eyes. Above him, the hermit sat alone in his tiny cave, murmuring to himself and tracing patterns in the ash from the campfire.

"We've search almost the entire valley," Hunter said with a sigh, sitting down heavily next to Spyro, "There's no sign of your friend."

"It's strange, like he's just disappeared," Cougar agreed, leaning on his javelin like it was a walking stick, "Some of the dragons are still searching for him, but it's getting dark."

"We might have to wait until morning to continue the search," Hunter said, frowning, "I just hope the panthers don't choose this night to attack while our young dragon friend is still out there. He might do something reckless."

Spyro had donned his armour again. He felt safer in it, despite Flame's teasing. The fire dragon seemed to think that only stuck up generals or cowards wore armour. He scoffed that he didn't need any protection other than his scales, his claws and his fire.

"I hope so, too," Spyro said, "Knowing Kazan, he'd definitely do something reckless…"

"Like try to attack them alone," Flame snorted.

Spyro looked up in time to see Seriphos and the rest of the dragon patrol re-enter the village, looking worried and defeated. The sun had almost set and long shadows were sweeping across the valley as night descended upon them. It was too dark to continue searching now.

"Who knows; perhaps he had some sense to return to Warfang on his own?" Hunter suggested, trying to sound hopeful.

But Spyro just stared at the darkening sky and murmured, "I highly doubt that."

After a moment's silence, Cougar suggested they should all get some rest. But Spyro was too worried to sleep, not to mention his armour made it uncomfortable. That and he feared what nightmares would disturb his sleep once he closed his eyes.

"I'm going to join the night patrol," the purple dragon said, standing up, "I'm not tired anyway."

It was half a lie. He did feel tired, especially after the nightmares that had disturbed his sleep last night, but knew he would be unable to rest while worries still plagued his mind.

"Alright, have it your way," Flame shrugged as Spyro walked away.

Hunter frowned after the young dragon, "He's worried."

Cougar lay his javelin down and stretched out on the ground, gazing up at the blanket of stars that dusted the night sky. "Aren't we all?"

Spyro spent the night patrolling around the perimeter of the village, keeping an eye out for both Kazan and the panthers, while within the village dragons and cheetahs alike slept soundly. But for Kazan, hidden in the secret alcove behind the waterfall, sleep did not go undisturbed. It was a strange sound, almost similar to laughter, that woke him in the first place.

The young fire dragon assumed that it was close to midnight, though he could not see the moons from where he lay. The cliff faces were shrouded in shadow, but the river glimmered silver with moonlight. Kazan thought he could see a tiny orange glow from the hermit's cave above him. Apart from the wind howling through the ravine, all was silent. Kazan supposed he had dreamt the sound and lay his head back down to sleep.

But then he heard it again – a high-pitched chattering that set his teeth on edge and made his head shoot up in alarm. He could feel his heart hammering wildly in his chest as he scanned the shadows cast by the faces of stone around him. Seconds passed and Kazan saw nothing, but he was convinced that something was watching him. He heard the chattering again and thought he saw, this time, a flicker of movement in the shadows.

"Who's there?" the young fire dragon snapped, fighting to keep his voice from trembling. High-pitched laughter answered him.

"Show yourself!"

Kazan heard the sound of feet pattering on stone and saw the shadows move again. Then he saw something that almost made his heart stop. A pair of poisonous green eyes was staring out of the shadows, straight at him, glowing with a ghostly light. Then another, and another, until he realised he was almost surrounded by glowing green eyes. Kazan swallowed with difficulty, his mouth now dry, and slowly stood up and backed away.

"Wh-what are they?" he whispered to himself, heart hammering with fear. They chattered again and shifted closer towards him, moving with a strange loping gate. But he could see little more than their eyes and the shadowy outlines of their bodies.

Kazan gulped and stepped back further, aware he was backing towards the river. Suddenly he heard something land behind him and spun around in alarm. The hermit stood before him, staff in hand, which he slammed into the ground with a muffled thud. A flame sprang up on the end of the staff, startling Kazan, and spread warm light over him. Kazan could see the hermit's yellow eyes in the shadow of his hood.

"Look again at the creatures that move in the shadows," said the old cheetah creakily, "Are they not familiar?"

Kazan gulped again and turned around. He could see the glowing green eyes outside of the pool of firelight, but it wasn't until they stepped into the light that he saw them fully. They looked like skeletons – strange stooped skeletons without any sign of flesh or meat. And yet they were alive and moving, as though controlled by an invisible puppeteer. Kazan shuddered and resisted the urge to step away.

"They're skeletons," he mumbled.

"Yes," creaked the hermit, waving a paw in their direction, "but are they not recognisable? These are the apes that served Gaul; the servants of the fallen Dark Master!"

Kazan, who had been raised in hiding, had never seen an ape before. They looked nothing like he had heard.

"What happened to them?" he whispered, never taking his eyes of their jerky movements. They seemed reluctant to move closer to the hermit.

"This is how Malefor repaid them for their loyalty," the cloaked cheetah hissed, "Doomed them to wander forever in the darkness, feeding on the souls of others, never being fulfilled. They are not truly alive and yet, not of the dead. They are cursed. That is their reward."

Kazan felt the scales on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortable as a chill swept through his body. He watched the spectral apes skirting around the pool of firelight, listening to their high-pitched chatter. They scraped the ground with their bony fingers, their eyes fixed on the fire dragon.

"Will they attack us?" Kazan asked anxiously.

"If given the chance," the hermit cackled, "but they do not harm me. Nor do they brave the light of fire. But alone here, in the dark, you will be at their mercy."

Kazan trembled. He didn't exactly enjoy the prospect of being torn to pieces by the cursed souls of the Dark Master's apes. But he needn't worry.

"Follow," croaked the hermit, turning with a swish of his tattered cloak, "They will not bother us."

Kazan spent the rest of the night lying just outside the hermit's cave, on the jutting rock ledge. A small campfire supplied him with warmth, light, and protection from the skeletal apes. He lay listening to their chattering laughter below him for many hours. Soon it began to sound less like laughter than the mournful howls of cursed beasts.

Days passed slowly for some, quickly for others. Kazan remained hidden and spent the daylight hours exploring along the river. He soon discovered that he could get back out the same way he came through, by simply touching the runes that were carved on both sides of the hidden door.

At the cheetah village, searches for Kazan continued, but none thought to check the hermit's grotto. Spyro became restless with worry and, without Cynder by his side, the nightmares became worse. More than once he woke up screaming, blind with fear and rage, until either Hunter or Flame calmed him.

Meanwhile, at Warfang, Cynder and the gang worried about Kazan's absence. But the guardians, too busy keeping the school running for the other young dragons, did not notice. Cynder missed Spyro dearly and knew Ember felt the same for Flame. So far Chasm had not bothered her since she had confronted him, but she knew that could change at any moment. They hadn't heard from the cheetah village, but Cynder convinced herself that no news was good news. It meant they were still safe.

All too quickly, Spyro realised he had been away from Warfang for almost a week. Kazan was still missing and there had been no sign of the panthers. He was beginning to think they had been wrong about the black felines. But that was all about to change.

Dusk had fallen. The final rays of sunlight were just disappearing from the sky and two pale moons were shedding light over the valley. Cougar was on night patrol and was guarding the gate to the village. His ocean blue eyes scanned the shadows of the trees, looking for movement but finding none.

Then, without warning, a bolt of silver shot from the trees and struck Cougar's shoulder. It pierced his fur and flesh and became imbedded in the bone. Cougar's howl of agony woke everyone in the village. And suddenly, the shadows came alive. Through a haze of pain, the stocky golden feline saw the shadows under the trees move and charge the village.

"Attack!" he howled, hefting his javelin and trying to ignore the bursting pain in his shoulder.

The village seemed to explode as cheetahs and dragons rose from their slumber and dashed to defend against the attacks. Spyro, who had been sleeping fitfully in his armour, woke in a rage, his eyes glowing white. Flame clubbed his tailblade into the purple dragon's head and he staggered.

"Snap out of it! They're attacking! Come on!" the fire dragon roared and flew, claws bared, towards the gate of the village.

Shaking his head groggily, Spyro saw everyone around him yelling war cries and wielding weapons or baring claws as they raced towards the village entrance. Then the moons came out from behind a cloud and Spyro saw what they were up against. A writhing mass of shadows covered the area just outside the village and on the opposite side of the river. Panthers vaulted over the water to join their comrades charging towards the village, and others emerged from within the shadows of the trees.

Spyro didn't stop to estimate how many there were. He just ran, straight towards the attackers, screaming out a howl of rage and defiance. These were the beasts that haunted his nightmares, and he wanted revenge.

There was a scream to his left and he saw a large yellow dragon with its jaws clamped around a panther's upper arm, hurl the beast into the air. The unfortunate cat hit the earth again with a sickening snap. Not far away, Hunter was grappling with a large black cat, their swords locked together as they snarled at each other. Then something struck Spyro's helm so hard that his ears rung and his vision flashed white for a moment.

Blindly, Spyro dived for his attacker and felt fur beneath his paws. His vision cleared and he found himself tussling on the ground with a wiry panther that was trying to whack him with a loaded sling. Spyro snapped at his throat, but missed as the cat swung his sling into Spyro's nose. The purple dragon tumbled off, his snout smarting from the blow. The panther dived at him, sling raised, but Spyro slammed his tail into his attacker's stomach and sent him flying.

As the panther struggled upright, Spyro heard a yell from somewhere to his right.

"Dragons! Why are there dragons here?" A female voice was yelling. She must have been a panther.

"Don't retreat!" a male voice answered her, sounding angry, "There aren't too many! We can take them!"

There was a snarl behind Spyro, and Flame suddenly came tumbling into view, locked in combat with a slim panther. The red dragon kicked his assailant off, and Spyro could tell from the gasp she gave that it was a female. She scrambled away before Flame could jump on her. Snarling like a feral animal, the red dragon dashed into the darkness after her.

Distracted, Spyro didn't notice the panther sneaking up behind him, until Cougar roared, "Get down!"

Spyro hit the earth and felt a whoosh of air as Cougar's javelin sped over his head. There was a cry of pain as the panther behind him fell backwards, clutching his side as his blood seeped into his fur. Spyro spun around, snarling, and the injured panther quickly scrambled away, looking terrified.

"Keep an eye on your surroundings!" Cougar yelled as he dashed past and retrieved his javelin. His voice was tight with pain and Spyro could see what looked like a metal arrow protruding from his shoulder. Then he disappeared into the fight, leaving Spyro alone again.

The purple dragon had just turned to engage another panther in battle, when a strange twanging sound reached his ears. He jumped back on instinct, which was lucky, because a lethal metal bolt struck the ground where he had been standing seconds later. Shocked, Spyro looked up to see a tall burly panther facing him, pointing a strange metal contraption at him. It looked similar to a bow and was loaded with weird metal arrows.

Without stopping to think, Spyro dived at the panther with a roar of anger. His paws became in encased with fire and he heard the twanging sound again. A metal bolt rushed past his face, nicking his cheek on the way. Then the panther fell backwards as Spyro landed on him. The purple dragon swung his flaming paw and caught his assailant a terrible blow to the upper arm.

But the panther only gritted his teeth in pain and swung his metal bow at Spyro's head. It clanged off his helm, but made his brains rattle and almost knocked him out. He rolled onto the ground, temporarily stunned, giving his attacker time to scramble to his feet. He pointed his weapon at the purple dragon, loading another metal arrow.

But, just then, a ball of rock struck the panther in the back and he stumbled forwards with a yell of pain. Seriphos came flying out of the darkness, eyes glowing green, and landed with a tremendous bang. The earth cracked and split under his claws, throwing the panther off balance. Spyro rolled back to his feet, shaking his head roughly.

"Go, Spyro!" the dragon captain roared, "I'll handle this one!"

Spyro didn't argue. He turned and bolted into the darkness, seizing a panther that was pointing a bow in Hunter's direction and knocking her to the earth. They tussled on the ground for a moment and began to roll towards the river.

Meanwhile, in the hermit's cave behind the waterfall, Kazan was completely unaware of the events at the village. He paced backwards and forwards on the jutting ledge outside the cave, listening to the spectral apes chattering below. The hermit sat cross-legged by the fire, staring into it. He hadn't spoken, moved, or even blinked for almost half an hour. Kazan was getting very restless.

Then, to his surprise, the hermit spoke. Just three words.

"They are here."

The fire dragon stopped his pacing and looked at the old cheetah, "What?"

The hermit was still staring into the flames, unblinking. He repeated what he had said, in that creaky high-pitched voice of his.

"They are here."

Suddenly Kazan understood, "The panthers?"

The hermit's creepy yellow eyes turned to him, "They are here."

Without another word, without even waiting to see if the hermit had anything else to say, Kazan turned and jumped off the ledge. He took flight and heard the skeletal apes howling below him. But he ignored them and took off down the river. This time, he flew with the wind, and it carried him swiftly down to the passageway in the rock. Heart pounding with excitement and a little fear, Kazan tore off down the tunnel.

He touched the runes that were almost invisible on this side of the door, and raced out into the night. As soon as he was out, he knew the hermit had been right. Screams and roars rent the night air. The panthers were attacking the village. As fast as his paws could carry him, Kazan dashed towards the battlefield.

Spyro snarled and snapped at the female panther, his claws locked in her fur, completely unaware they were rolling downhill towards the rapidly flowing river. The panther's bow lay forgotten somewhere, and she pummelled at the purple dragon with fisted paws. For a brief moment they teetered on the bank of the river, clawing at one another, before they both plunged into the water.

Spyro felt his claws untangle from his opponent's fur as he hit the river. The cold water chilled his bones and the rapids forced him under mercilessly. Water filled his mouth and nostrils and everything became a blur of muddy grey. Spyro panicked as he tried to take a breath and ended up swallowing a copious amount of gritty water. He felt something kicking him and realised, in a blur of panic, that the panther was panicking just as much as he was.

Suddenly his head broke the surface and he took a great gulp of air, coughing and spluttering fitfully. The river was carrying him away from the village and, through the roar of the water, he could still hear the screams and sound of battle. A sleek black head broke the water next to him and the panther he had been battling came up coughing and gasping for air.

The purple dragon kicked out desperately, trying to swim towards the bank, but the current tossed him around mercilessly and he almost went under again. The female panther was thrashing around in a fit of panic. She reached out and grabbed at Spyro, pushing away from him with all her might. She was propelled towards the bank and managed to grip the plants hanging over the edge, but Spyro was pushed under again. Thrashing madly, Spyro tried to swim to the surface, his lungs screaming for air.

Kazan saw the two creatures thrashing about in the river. He watched as the panther managed to clamber up onto the bank and Spyro sank under the rapids again. Knowing he had precious little time to act, the crimson dragon dashed wildly towards the river and scanned for any sign of Spyro. He saw a scaled paw break the surface of the water before it was pushed under again by the quickly moving river. Taking a deep breath, Kazan plunged his upper body into the water.

Everything was a blur of muddy grey and distorted shadows, and the gritty water stung his eyes, but Kazan quickly spotted the thrashing shape that must have been Spyro. He fastened his forepaws around whatever part of Spyro's body he had managed to grab, and pulled as hard as he could. He dug the claws of his hind legs into the bank, fighting to keep his balance as he pulled the panicked Spyro towards him.

At last, Kazan's head broke the water and he dragged Spyro up onto the bank with the last of his strength, panting. Water cascaded off their bodies as the two young dragons lay gasping in the mud. Spyro coughed the water from his lungs and took several deep breaths before fixing his eyes on his rescuer.

"Kazan!" the purple dragon gasped, water still running in rivulets down his scales, "What are you doing here?"

"Helping," Kazan grunted, snorting water as he picked himself up, "You almost drowned."

"You should have gone back to Warfang!" Spyro reprimanded him angrily, over the sound of battle, "We've been looking for you for days!"

Kazan bristled with anger, "Hey! I just saved your life! How about a bit of gratitude?"

Spyro hesitated before he muttered a grudging "Thanks."

"In case you hadn't noticed, we're in a battle zone!" Kazan growled, "We can talk about what I did wrong later!"

And with that he turned and sped back towards the village. Spyro glared after him and picked himself up, coughing the last of the water from his lungs. Then he ran after Kazan, determined not to let him out of his sight. But, unfortunately for the purple dragon, Kazan had already disappeared.

The skies were alight with the four elements as Spyro re-joined the fray. Fire lit the sky as electricity crackled through the air. The power of earth rippled through the ground, great cracks opening up and rocky pillars shooting skywards. Ice swept through the ranks, turning panthers into living statues until a burst of out-of-control flame accidently thawed them.

"There's too many!" he heard a panther panting to his companion, "They're too strong!"

Indeed, it did look as though the panthers were being pushed back. With the dragons' superior attacks and elemental control, as well as the fact that their presence in the battle had been unexpected, the panthers seem to be fighting a losing battle.

"Not yet!" another panther was yelling, sounding desperate, "Not yet! We can take them! We can!"

Spyro spotted the yelling panther through the crowd. Was he the leader? Eyes narrowed to a glare, the purple dragon bared his teeth and charged.

Kazan was a blur of teeth, claws and fire in the field of battle. His crest and tailblade were alight with flames, and his paws were encased in gloves of fire. Caught up in the moment, eager to prove that he was stronger than he believed, he lashed out at every panther that tried to get close to him. But so focused on the enemies closest to him he was, he failed to notice the panther that levelled his bow straight at him.

The bowstring twanged; the arrow flew straight, and Kazan felt something smash into his side. He rolled sideways, winded, just as the arrow pierced the ground where he had been standing. Flame, the force of his leap having carried him off Kazan, jumped to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped to the winded crimson dragon. Kazan looked up groggily, confused.

Flame's eyes were flashing with anger, "Have you learnt nothing from Seriphos's Battle Tactics class? Always keep an eye on your surroundings! You almost got skewered by that arrow! You're not even supposed to be here, anyway!"

Kazan opened his mouth to give an angry retort, but another arrow shot by and sliced Flame's cheek open. The fire dragon's snarl of pain cut off Kazan's reply as he turned to face their attacker. The panther had dropped his bow and was drawing his sword, a thin, lethal-looking rapier. Flame's golden eyes shone with anger as he dropped into a battle stance.

"Stay back," he snarled at Kazan, "I'll deal with this one."

The panther advanced, sword raised for the strike, as Flame rose up onto his hind legs. Kazan watched, awed, as the red dragon's body began to glow crimson. He quickly covered his face with his wing, upon realising what was about to happen. But the panther had no idea. Flame had closed his eyes, so the black feline took that chance to charge.

But suddenly Flame's eyes opened, glowing like fire itself. His wings snapped out to their full span and his body rose off the earth, before he appeared to explode. Waves of deadly flame burst from his body, blasting out with deadly force. Kazan felt the heat on his face, even with his wing covering it. There was a scream and a hoarse shout, then the fire dissipated and Flame returned to earth, blinking.

Kazan uncovered his face and stared, stunned. The grass had been charred black, but the two panthers lying on the ground were still moving and alive. With their black fur and the lack of light, it was hard to tell how much damage the fire had done to them. Evidently, the second panther had pushed the first to the ground just in time, saving them both from the worst of the fury.

Flame gnashed his teeth in anger as the two black felines stood up from the charred ground, apparently suffering few injuries from his fire.

"Thanks," one of them murmured, retrieving his sword from the ground.

"Any time," said the other, tossing a javelin between his paws, "Shall we finish them together?"

The first smiled grimly, "I think we shall."

Flame tensed as they charged him, weapons raised. Time seemed to slow down for Kazan. Flame stood in front of him, almost protectively, his body lowered in a defensive stance. He had defended Kazan, at the risk of his own life, and was continuing to do so. Kazan couldn't help but wonder, _'Would I have done the same?'_

It was then that the young crimson dragon realised something. All along he had been vying to become Fire Guardian to gain Saffron's attention; and to prove he was the strongest fire breather of all. But Flame – he fought for the position to protect those weaker than him; to protect those he loved and cared about. And it was that need to protect that gave him his strength.

Kazan gritted his teeth, feeling hot angry tears prick at his eyes. He had been fighting for all the wrong reasons. He had been discouraged by his lack of strength, while Flame had seemed so powerful. His reasons for becoming Fire Guardian were weak when compared to Flame's. He had been egotistic, self-absorbed and just plain selfish. How could he have ever hoped to have any strength, when his reasons for fighting were so weak?

A strange feeling flared in Kazan's chest and a terrifying roar ripped itself from his throat. It was full of many things – anger, fear, defiance, agony, and hatred; hatred for his own foolishness. Tears flew unnoticed from his eyes as he leapt clean over Flame's head and met the panthers head on, mouth still open in his violent roar. He didn't hear Flame's yell of shock.

Nor did Kazan feel the blade of the sword that slashed his flank open, or the spear that pierced his paw. All he knew was that he didn't want these panthers to hurt anyone anymore. Flame had protected him; now it was his turn to protect Flame. His claws lashed out viciously, tearing through flesh and fur blindly. Fire welled in his jaws and burst out in torrents of flame, filling his nostrils with the acrid scent of burning fur.

Vaguely he heard Flame yelling his name, but paid him no heed. Power was coursing through his veins. He felt like his whole body was on fire. And, had he been able to look at himself, he would have seen that it literally was. His scales were encased in flame, from head to tail, his crest glowing brightest of all. Many dragons, cheetahs and even panthers stopped to stare. But he wasn't aware of any of this.

"Get back!" one of his opponents was yelling, "He's too strong! Leave him!"

And then they were gone, like smoke on the wind. Kazan spun around, snarling, looking for them, his scales still flaming. But the injured panthers had disappeared into the shadows and the rest were all giving Flame and Kazan a wide berth. Kazan didn't know it, but at the moment he looked like a demon encased in fire. Flame approached him slowly.

"Kazan. Snap out of it."

Kazan hesitated. It felt as though he'd just come out of some horrible trance, full of anger and rage. The fire around his body dissipated and he swayed on his feet, suddenly feeling drained and dizzy. Flame was watching him closely, his golden eyes suspicious.

"You never used power like that when we fought," he said at last, looking Kazan up and down.

The dark red dragon looked at his smoking paws, "I…didn't realise I had it."

It was only then that he realised he was injured and staggered when the slash on his flank twinged angrily. Suddenly Flame was beside him, holding him up.

"Idiot," the lighter red dragon muttered, "should have left them to me."

Kazan just grimaced.

Spyro and the panther circled each other, neither taking their eyes off each other. The purple dragon could tell from the dim moonlight that this panther had olive green eyes. He was wielding a strange weapon – like a staff with a sword blade on either end.

"Aren't you going to attack, dragon?" the panther taunted. Spyro snarled at him and pawed the ground. The green-eyed panther spread his arms, "After you."

Spyro knew that taking his bait was stupid, but he couldn't resist. He was angry and he had a strange feeling that this panther was their leader. With a feral roar, he charged his opponent and opened his jaws. The panther swung his sword-staff in front of him to protect himself, but Spyro didn't attack directly. He breathed a fine mist from his jaws and froze the panther's paws to his staff. Shocked, the panther tried desperately to free his paws.

Dancing out of the way of Spyro's claws, he taunted, "So, an ice dragon, huh? You'll have to do better than that!"

The panther finally freed one paw, sending chips of ice flying, and lashed out at Spyro. The young dragon rolled out of the way and jumped up again, electricity arcing from his jaws. His opponent screamed in agony at the volts coursed through his body, almost bringing him to his knees. Wincing, electricity arcing in his fur, the panther opened one green eye to stare at Spyro.

"Im…impossible," he winced, "Dragons…can't control more than one element."

He pushed himself back to his feet again, freeing his other frozen paw, and swung at the dragon. Again, Spyro danced out of the way, anger coursing through his veins. He shot a bolt of stone from his jaws, but the stunned panther deflected it with his sword-staff.

"Earth, too?" the panther exclaimed, "That isn't right…"

For some reason, this angered Spyro even more. With an animalistic snarl, he breathed a torrent of fire straight at his opponent. The panther staggered back, attempting to deflect it with his weapon, but getting the staff caught on fire in the process. The fire's glow spread over Spyro's scales, illuminating him at last to the eyes of the panther. The black feline froze as though he had been turned to stone. He didn't even notice that his staff was still burning.

"Impossible…" he breathed, eyes wide. Spyro thought he saw a flicker of uncertain fear in those eyes. "It can't be…purple… Purple?"

Then suddenly he was yelling, "Retreat! There's too many! We can't defeat dragons! Retreat from the valley! Go!"

There was a rush as the panthers, as lithe as shadows themselves, slunk away into the night. They were gone in an instant, as though they had never even been there, leaving the dragons and cheetahs stunned and wordless. Spyro sat down heavily, heart pounding. Nobody moved for several moments, until Seriphos began to speak.

"Everyone back into the village," the earth dragon was saying, "Get some rest. We will clean up in the morning. I want a few fit dragons to remain on night patrol in case they come back!"

In silence, dragons and cheetahs limped back into the village. Spyro didn't move. He was still staring into the darkness, into whence the panthers had disappeared. Seriphos came up beside him.

"Spyro?" the purple dragon turned to look at him. Seriphos's eyes were tired but kind, "Get some rest. We'll clean up when the sun rises."

So the purple dragon retired to the village and sought out Flame and Kazan, glad they were both alive. And for once Spyro sank into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

* * *

The battlefield was littered with broken and discarded weapons, gouges in the torn-up earth, and gruesome bloodstains. But there were no bodies. Spyro dwelled on this as he paced across the scarred earth. Great chunks of grass had been torn out of the ground and there were shallow cracks across the earth, courtesy of Seriphos and the other earth dragons. Not to mention the frequent scorch marks.

"There's many injured, but no deaths," reported Hunter, moving over to join the purple dragon, "Not even a panther."

It was early morning and most of the village was already awake, cleaning up the mess that the battle at dusk had caused. Spyro ran his claw over a deep gouge in the ground. It was like the earth was bleeding dirt.

"I guess we were lucky," he frowned, "and the panthers had enough sense to know when to retreat. I wonder where they've gone."

"Who knows?" the cheetah shrugged, "I'm just glad the village, and all the villagers, are intact."

Spyro spotted the sun gleaming off something silver on the ground and strode over it. It was a weapon. The purple dragon touched the metal contraption hesitantly and looked up at Hunter, who had followed him.

"What is this weapon?" Spyro asked, "I saw a few of the panthers with them last night. It's like a bow…sort of."

Hunter bent down and picked it up, "It's a crossbow. We've used them before, but the metal ore needed to forge them is hard to come by. We prefer longbows. Seems like the panthers prefer these, though. You hold it horizontally, unlike longbows."

He raised the weapon to shoulder height, balancing it horizontally instead of vertically like with the longbow. There was no bolt loaded in the crossbow, but Spyro didn't like the look of it all the same. It was cold and cruel-looking. Noticing Spyro's discomfort, Hunter lowered the weapon.

"What now?" the purple dragon asked, looking up at his cheetah friend, "Do you think they'll come back?"

"It's hard to say," said Hunter, frowning, "Now that they know for sure that we are allied with the dragons…they might give it up as a lost cause."

Spyro gave a strained smile, "I'd like to believe that, but…I don't think we'll be that lucky. They could go for Warfang next, who knows?"

Hunter shook his head, "Even if they do, there's next to nothing that can penetrate the walls of your city. And once they realise that…well, the panthers are smart; they won't rush into a battle that they know they can't win."

Spyro stared intently at the cheetah and murmured, "Malefor broke down the walls of Warfang with ease. Who's to say someone else can't do the same?"

"Malefor is the strongest threat this world has ever known," Hunter pointed out, "you can't compare him to the panthers. If you ask me, the only way those black kittens could ever take Warfang is if they had a purple dragon on their side. And we all know that's not going to happen."

Spyro smiled humourlessly and didn't respond.

"Even so," Hunter continued, with a kind smile, "maybe it's best if you return to Warfang for now, just in case."

Seriphos passed the order about an hour later. Ten dragons were selected to stay behind with the cheetahs should the panthers have any thoughts of trying again. The rest were to head back to Warfang, to inform the guardians of what had happened and get their injuries treated. Kazan, his wounds covered by a poultice of leaves and bark courtesy of the female cheetahs in the village, flew between Spyro and Flame all the way back to the city. He had a feeling it was because they didn't want him trying to escape again.

"Keep in touch," Spyro had asked of Hunter before they left, "We'll send word if anything happens."

So, bidding their cheetah allies goodbye, the dragons had left the valley and headed back to their city. It seemed like a long flight, as they were so eager to see the familiar walls once again. But, soon enough, Warfang appeared on the horizon, welcoming them with golden sun-kissed stone. The news of their return spread like wildfire through the city.

Spyro had barely landed before he and the rest of Guard were surrounded by a vast chattering crowd. The guardians pushed their way through to speak to Seriphos, but a group of younger dragons dodged around their legs and dashed towards the purple dragon.

"Spyro!" Cynder exclaimed, cantering towards him.

The purple dragon felt a sudden rush of warmth as his eyes fell on her. She pushed her head into his chest, a little roughly, and nuzzled his scales with relieved affection. Spyro returned the gesture, rubbing his muzzle along the smooth scales of her cheek. He heard her croon softly in satisfaction and she gave his neck an affectionate nip.

"I missed you," Spyro mumbled into her scales.

"You too, you big lug," Cynder snorted, but Spyro heard the grin in her voice.

Ember ran to Flame, crying out his name anxiously. The red dragon welcomed her with a wing, hugging her close to his body. But he was looking into the distance, a frown on his face as he said distractedly, "I'm ok."

Kazan, who was looking pointedly away from the two couples, spotted Saffron coming towards him. His stomach gave a great jolt, but the next moment he saw her stop a tail-length away, flanked by Zephira, Zannak and Ciro. She was watching him with an expression similar to reluctant relief.

"Looks like we guessed correctly," Saffron said dryly, her eyes sweeping over his injuries.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Zannak grinned, "We would have come too!"

"Be glad you didn't," Flame cut in darkly, standing awkwardly as Ember nuzzled beneath his chin, "It wasn't a pretty battle."

"You didn't…lose anyone, did you?" Zephira asked, looking around the Guard anxiously. Perhaps she had noticed they were ten dragons down.

"No, we left a few dragons behind to protect the village," Spyro assured her, "there were no losses, luckily enough."

Saffron seemed surprised, if not relieved, "No lives lost? At all? Those panthers must be wimpy fighters or something…"

But while Spyro and Flame explained that the panthers hadn't suffered any losses either, a strange memory had surfaced in Kazan's mind. The crimson dragon frowned. Saffron's words had triggered something…something the hermit had said.

'_No lives will be lost, but the damage these events will cause will be far greater than the world can even imagine.'_

Kazan shuddered. He had no idea what damage the hermit had been talking about, but somehow he had known there would be no losses in that battle. Come to think of it, the hermit seemed to have known a lot of strange stuff. Still, the battle didn't seem to have done any lasting damage, and Kazan hoped that it would stay that way.

Not far away, the guardians were asking Seriphos about the battle. Kazan watched them for a while, until his gaze shifted and he saw Flame was staring at him with a strange expression on his face. Suddenly nervous, Kazan quickly looked away. Something had happened in that battle – something he couldn't explain. A power had surfaced in him that he'd never discovered before. And Flame continued to stare at him, like he'd done something wrong.

"The wounded should go to the infirmary," Terrador said, breaking Kazan out of his thoughts, "Would you take them there, young dragons? You should see to those injuries, too, Kazan. After that, we will talk about your…disobedience…"

Kazan grimaced. He wasn't looking forward to that.

Night fell, cool and comforting. Spyro was tired after a day helping out in the infirmary, keeping his mind off things. But now, lying alone in his room with only Sparx's snores for company, his thoughts began to drift. Where were the panthers now and what were were they planning? Were the cheetahs in Avalar holding up ok? And what about his nightmares?

Shuddering at the memories of his past dreams, Spyro curled up tightly on his cushions and hoped they wouldn't visit him this night. But his hopes were in vain. They only seemed to get worse and tonight were no different. As his mind fell into slumber, his thoughts dragged him into a world of nightmares.

"Please…" begged a pitiful voice, "don't let me die…please…"

Spyro could hear its sobs and the sound of tears dripping on stone. It was a young male voice, strangely familiar. But a white haze had surrounded Spyro and he couldn't see anything. All he heard was the voice as his echoed around him.

"P-please…save me…" it sobbed, "please…"

He wanted to open his mouth and call out to the voice, but his own voice seemed to have gone. Gulping soundlessly, Spyro tried to penetrate the mist with his eyes. A shadowy shape appeared out of the white fog and stood before him. It was smaller than Spyro but only just. A dragon with grey scales and white wings. Blue eyes pierced through the mist.

"Please…"

Spyro tried to stumble backwards, but his legs wouldn't move. He stared in horror at the grey dragon.

"Alta…" he breathed, his voice returning at last, "No…y-you're dead…"

Alta's tearful blue eyes stared accusingly at him, "Why…why did you kill me?"

"No…" Spyro shook his head, trying to back away but unable to move, "no, I didn't! Y-you killed yourself! I tried…I tried to save you!"

Alta was walking forwards, tears rolling down his cheeks, his expression choked with sadness. He walked closer and closer to Spyro, who was unable to back away.

"Why didn't you save me?" Alta sobbed, "Why did you kill me?"

"I didn't, I didn't!" Spyro yelled desperately, tossing his head, trying to escape, "Please! I didn't kill you!"

But Alta continued to walk forwards, begging, "Save me. Please, save me."

Then Spyro felt something horrible come over him, like a presence within his own body, controlling his limbs. He felt his paw rise; felt his mouth split into a hideous grin. It was like he was a prisoner inside someone else's body, watching from within. He wanted to stop, but couldn't. He wanted to look away, but his eyes were frozen wide.

His claws tore through Alta's throat, tearing through flesh, muscle and sinew. Blood splattered into his eyes, in his mouth, across the white misty landscape. Alta's body fell backwards, his head almost completely sheered off, and flopped limply onto the ground. The mist around him turned red with his blood.

Blood dribbled from Spyro's grinning mouth. He felt himself laugh, a cold, cruel sound. And for a split second, Spyro saw himself from outside his body – a dark scaled, white-eyed, blood-splattered version of himself.

Spyro woke up sobbing, screaming and pleading with something that wasn't there. He had barely registered that he was back in his room before he staggered over to the balcony and began retching violently. The commotion had woken Sparx, who quickly flew over to his surrogate brother and tried to comfort him. He placed a tiny hand on Spyro's shaking shoulder, while the purple dragon retched and coughed over the balcony.

"Easy, Spyro old boy," Sparx said gently, his eyes worried, "You ok?"

Spyro raised his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his paw, tears still streaming from his eyes. He was shaking like a leaf and his normally vibrant scales looked pale and dull.

"A-Alta…" Spyro sobbed, taking short shallow breaths, "I…I killed him…"

Sparx shook his head, "No, Spyro, you didn't. It was just a nightmare."

"But I killed him, Sparx!" Spyro exclaimed, hiccupping, his tears wetting the balcony between his paws, "I saw it…I saw…"

Spyro shuddered again and leant over the balcony, heaving. Sparx chewed his lip anxiously and hovered away with a half-formed thought in his head. _Find Cynder_.

"She'll know what to do…" the dragonfly muttered to himself as he shot out of the room. The sound of Spyro retching and sobbing followed him down the corridor.

"Cynder!" Sparx cried as he burst into the dragoness's room.

Her head shot up, instantly awake, "What! Sparx? What happened? Is something wrong?"

Sparx wrung his hands fitfully, "It's Spyro! I think it was a nightmare… I can't calm him down!"

Cynder jumped up and dashed out of her room without waiting for Sparx to say anything else. She bolted down the corridor and burst into his room, expecting to find something horrible. But all she saw was Spyro sobbing fitfully on the balcony outside his room. Heart still hammering madly, Cynder breathed a sigh of relief and hurried anxiously to Spyro's side. She had hardly ever seen him so distressed.

"Oh, Spyro," she cooed sadly, "What happened?"

Spyro raised his head upon hearing her voice, tears streaming from his eyes, "C-Cynder. It was Alta…I killed him…"

The black dragoness stared at him sadly, "You didn't kill anyone, Spyro. You'd never kill anyone. Alta's death was…a horrible accident. It wasn't your fault, Spyro. You know that."

Spyro's body trembled with sobs, "Bu-But I…"

Cynder leant closer and licked the tears from his cheeks, before pressing her lips to his. He was tense and trembling at first, but Cynder felt him relax as she kissed him. Her tongue caressed the inside of his lips as she breathed in his scent, salty with the scent of his tears. She broke the kiss, tracing the tip over her tongue over his lips as she did so, and nuzzled the soft scales beneath his chin.

"You're ok, Spyro," she murmured, "It was all just a nightmare. You're ok now."

Spyro took a shaky, steadying breath. He caressed the scales of her neck with his snout and rubbed his cheek against hers, leaving the last of his tears glimmering like diamonds on her scales.

"Stay here," he whispered huskily to her, "Please."

Cynder smiled as though she'd never expected otherwise and nudged him over as she scooted closer to him.

"Shove over, purple boy," she smirked, entwining her tail with his and nuzzling under his wing. She lay her head down on her paws, letting Spyro curl around her, his cheek pressed against hers.

Sparx peered out onto the balcony to see them curled up together and made a disgusted face. Rolling his eyes, he turned and hovered back to his hanging nest where it was warmer. Within minutes, his snores had filled the room. Out on the balcony, in the light of the celestial moons, the two dragons fell into peaceful slumber.

Spyro's eyes opened slowly. He thought he heard music from somewhere, a mysterious tune, but decided he had imagined it. Hesitantly, he raised his head. He felt strangely calm, as though a warm breeze had just washed over him. Last he remembered, he had been curled up on the balcony with Cynder. But the world that faced him now was not his own – it was a world of dreams.

A vast deep blue and black void stretched all around him, like the night sky. Weird stone shapes, like ancient relics, rolled through the void. They were marked with runes that glowed a sharp, pale blue. Looking down, Spyro found he was standing on a small platform of rock floating in the void. Another floated about a foot in front of him, and another beyond that, like stepping stones. Somehow, this place seemed familiar.

"Hello?" Spyro called into the darkness. His voice echoed back at him and made him shiver. But there was no answer.

Spyro took a deep breath and called out, "You're there, aren't you, Chronicler?"

Yes, this was just like the strange dreamscapes that the Chronicler had used to call him to, a few years ago. At first only silence answered his call. Then an ancient, wise and familiar voice echoed through the void.

"It has been quite a while, young dragon," said the voice fondly.

For a moment Spyro was confused. As familiar as the voice was, somehow it sounded different from what he had remembered. But then again, Spyro supposed, it had been quite a few years. He must have simply forgotten what the Chronicler sounded like. Nor did the echoes that distorted the voice help him to place it. It sounded distant and far away, like a whisper on the wind.

"Why have you called me here?" Spyro called, for he knew that he could only enter this dreamscape if the Chronicler summoned him.

"Because, Spyro, you need to be warned," sighed the Chronicler with an air of worry, "Even with the Dark Master gone, darkness still lingers in the world."

Spyro frowned, "I-I know… lately we've had a bit of trouble with these strange creatures called panthers. They've been attacking Avalar. Do you…?"

"Yes, I have been watching," the Chronicler's voice said mournfully, "and I know you are doing your utmost to protect everyone. But you must be cautious. Dark times are ahead…I fear the worst is yet to come."

"What do you mean?" Spyro cried, "Worse than what? Nothing could be worse than Malefor…"

For several long moments, the Chronicler's voice was silent. Spyro worried he had been left alone in the void, but then the old dragon spoke once more.

"There is something you must know, Spyro. Something important," said the Chronicler gravely, "But I cannot tell you here. You must seek me out, Spyro."

"What?" Spyro was startled, "You want me to come to you? Why can't you tell me here?"

But the Chronicler's voice was fading away, "I want you to come to the White Isle…to the Celestial Caves. Find me, Spyro."

"Chronicler!" Spyro yelled, jumping onto the next platform as though chasing the old dragon's voice, "Wait!"

But the Chronicler didn't answer and Spyro continued jumping from platform to platform as though they were stepping stones, crying out.

"Wait!"

A soft voice whispered through the void, "…I will be waiting, Spyro…"

"Chronicler!"

Spyro awoke with a start. It was still dark and the balcony was washed in pale moonlight. Cynder was fast asleep against his flank, her sides rising and falling with each even breath. From within his room, Spyro could hear Sparx's muffled snores. But the purple dragon was wide awake, his heart beating quickly as though he'd just run a mile.

"Cynder," he breathed hoarsely, shaking her, "Cynder!"

The black dragoness opened her eyes and blinked a few times before raising her head. She turned anxious eyes on the purple dragon, "What is it?"

"The Chronicler," Spyro rasped, his wide eyes reflecting the moons.

Cynder frowned, "What?"

"The Chronicler has summoned me!"

**A/N: Yet another freakishly long chapter. I'm good at those, aren't I?** **Lots of Kazan in this chapter; I sort of made him seem a little overpowered, but he's not, trust me. An explanation will be given in the next chapter (which is already finished, I might add. But you're not getting it for another week. Hah). Also, return of creepy hermit! Because he's cool. And Orpheus is now my favourite OC for some reason. And Chasm's annoying me, because he's one of those stupid unplanned OCs that shouldn't have existed in the first place, but I can't get rid of. So Cynder yelled at him for me. *takes deep breath* Aaaaaaand...Chronicler's back! *cheers* Yes, it is Ignitus, that's why Spyro thought the voice sounded weird (he didn't recognize it cause it was all echo-y and stuff). I love the Chronicler (both of them XD). Best character ever. I want his books.**

**Also, I'm off uni until the end of July! Celebration! Hoping to get as many chapters done as possible before I go back. If there aren't weekly updates, feel free to yell at me. I want to get this plot moving! So, I really hoped you enjoyed the chapter! Chapter ten in about a week...hopefully by then I'll have finished chapter 11. ;) Thanks a super duper bunch to all my readers and reviewers. Have some virtual hugs. *HUG!***

**I also want to take this chance to say IT'S OVER 9000! (hits). **

**I love you guys!**

**~River**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Blah. Sorry, I meant to upload this chapter yesterday but stuff happened and I was distracted. Enjoy.  
**

**10.**

Exhausted, but still full of adrenaline from the battle, a group of nigh on two hundred panthers staggered onwards towards the far western reaches of the valley. Near the base of the western mountains they finally made camp, panting and talking in excited voices. By that time, dawn was approaching and the sky had already turned a steely blue grey.

"Dragons!" a tall, wiry panther was laughing as Orpheus staggered into camp, "Dragons in Avalar! Who knew?"

Orpheus grimaced and clutched at his aching ribs, sure that at least one had been broken. That and his faithful sword-staff had been almost reduced to ashes. The staff was black and brittle, and he'd very soon need a new one if he was planning to go into battle with it again. Those dragons sure hadn't messed around. But he couldn't get his mind off that young dragon he had fought near the end of the battle. Unless his eyes had deceived him, that had been a purple dragon. But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

The green-eyed panther groaned and staggered sideways, his vision blurring suddenly. But before he could collapse, he felt another panther beside him, propping him up with a broad shoulder.

"Easy there, Orpheus," said a voice, "Looks like they got you a few good ones."

"Silt," Orpheus grunted, blinking and looking up at the orange-eyed panther. His damaged sword-staff lay on the ground, forgotten for the moment.

Silt smiled grimly, "I don't think any of us were expecting what happened tonight. Even Skulk and Skelos wouldn't have predicted dragons in Avalar."

Orpheus wiped blood from a cut on his lip, frowning, "Did anyone manage to count how many there were?"

"From what I saw, not more than fifty," Silt replied, guiding the younger panther towards a campfire that a small group had started, "But they were strong. We weren't equipped to fight dragons tonight. Still, it was rather sudden when you called off the battle. Seemed like something startled you."

A dark look on his face, Orpheus was about to respond, when the wiry panther from before suddenly stood up from beside the fire and clapped him on the shoulder. He had strange deep purple eyes and stood a good head taller than Orpheus and at least an inch taller than Silt. There was also a cocky grin on his face.

"I saw the beast my dear little brother was fighting before he called for us to retreat!" the tall panther boasted loudly, catching mostly everyone's attention, "A fearsome beast if I ever saw one! I'd say he was about…this high."

He held a paw above the ground at no more than waist height, and the panthers around him laughed uproariously. Orpheus felt his cheeks burn beneath his dark fur and violently pushed his older brother's paw off his shoulder.

"Shut it, Erebos! You don't know what you're talking about!"

Erebos, who more commonly went by the name Rebus, grinned mockingly at his younger brother, "Don't I? All I saw was you getting beaten up by a dragon that was little more than a hatchling. So, what don't I know about this fearsome beast?"

Orpheus clenched his teeth together angrily, trying not to rise to his brother's taunting. Silt watched on blandly, as though this sort of banter was quite normal for the two brothers.

"You didn't see him…" Orpheus gritted through his fangs, trying to ignore Erebos's mocking eyes, "He wasn't a normal dragon…"

"Why, was he purple?" Erebos laughed loudly at his own joke, slinging an arm around his brother's shoulders. But then he met Orpheus's steely, serious gaze and his smile faltered, "What? You're not saying he was?"

Orpheus looked away without saying anything. Erebos had stopped smiling now, and Silt was starting to frown. The former shook his younger brother roughly, saying, "Come on, Orph, stop messing with us. As if the little dragon could have been purple. It's impossible."

"Is it?" Orpheus asked sharply, whirling to face his brother, ignoring his bruised ribs, "The last purple dragon was born over a thousand years ago! Who's to say another one hasn't been born since then?"

"The only purple dragon ever recorded to have existed was Malefor!" Erebos argued, as though he was determined not to believe another could exist, "And now that Malefor is dead, there shouldn't be anymore. I mean, wasn't Malefor just a freak of nature? Why would another purple dragon be born?"

"And what if that freak of nature happened again?" Orpheus snapped, "What if another purple dragon _was_ born? It's not unlikely! If it happened once, it could happen again!"

The whole camp had stopped to listen now, some frowning anxiously, others merely looking intrigued.

"And we were never told _how_ Malefor was killed," Orpheus continued savagely, "only that he _was_! You've heard the stories! They saw he was the strongest, most powerful dragon to ever exist! Even the guardians couldn't control him! So how could he have been defeated? If you ask me, the only way such a beast could be killed is if a beast of equal power fought him! _Another_ purple dragon!"

Erebos, who had been listening a sort of horrified trance, suddenly snorted and scoffed, "What, you're saying that little dragon you fought back there was the one who finally defeated the Dark Master? Orpheus, do you realise how far-fetched that is? That little lizard was no more than a hatchling! How could he defeat the greatest, most powerful dragon of all time?

"If not another purple dragon, then who?" Orpheus asked calmly, though his eyes were blazing with a kind of fire, "Who could have defeated Malefor?"

Erebos faltered, stuck without an answer to his younger brother's question. A hushed silence had fallen over the crowd of panthers around them. Suddenly, Silt stepped forwards.

"Alright, that'll do," said the orange-eyed panther, pulling Orpheus away from his brother, "We'll speak about this later. Rebus, fetch the other Assassins. Skulk and Skelos will want a report about this."

Erebos, his eyes still fixed on Orpheus, nodded stiffly and slipped away through the crowd. Silt led the wincing Orpheus away from the campfire, towards a small clearing in the shadow of the mountains. Soon they were joined by Erebos and three other panthers. Together, they and Silt formed the Elite Guard, or the Assassins, a prestigious group that Orpheus hoped to soon be a part of. They sat together in a loose circle, while the first rays of the sun peeked through the foliage of the trees around them.

"Firstly," said Silt, once they were all present, "Orpheus, are you positive that the dragon you saw was purple?"

There was a sound of disgruntled disbelief from Erebos, but none of the other panthers said anything. Orpheus frowned and stared at his paws.

"I'm sure of it. At first I thought he was an ice dragon. I mean, he looked sort of a blue-ish colour, and he breathed ice. But then he started using the other elements – electricity, earth and fire. And I saw him in the firelight and his scales were definitely purple. I'm positive on what I saw. He was a purple dragon!"

The other Assassins exchanged glances. Orpheus couldn't tell if they believed him or not, until they started to speak.

"If the beast used all four of the elements, like you say, there is no doubt that there is something strange about him," said an older panther whose whiskers were turning grey with age, "purple or not."

"Only Malefor ever mastered all four of the elements," said a smooth-voiced panther with steely grey eyes, "He was purple. Perhaps this little dragon is indeed just the same."

"If the cheetahs are allied with the purple dragon, there may be little hope of taking Avalar for ourselves," murmured the third, whose silky voice was obviously feminine, "The masters will want to hear of this, as soon as possible."

"I guess that means you believe him," Erebos grunted.

The grey-eyed assassin turned his sharp eyes on Orpheus, and seemed to speak to both brothers as he said, "No wise panther would lie about such a thing, Rebus. And we must trust Orpheus's eyes. After all, he is the youngest of us all. I know my eyes are not what they used to be. Nor are Agra's, I'd wager."

The older panther chuckled, a weird cold sound, "Nay, Steel, soon I'll be relying on my nose and ears to guide me through the night."

Silt stood up abruptly, "Before we all get off track, who did I give the tracking crystal to last?"

Steel reached into the pocket of his dark grey tunic, brushing his dark cloak aside. He drew out a deep black crystal, just like the one that Skulk and Skelos had back at their village in the Badlands. He tossed it to Silt, who caught it deftly and placed it on the ground in the centre of the circle. Every panther watched the gem closely as Silt moved to place a paw upon it.

"Skulk, Skelos," he called to the now glowing crystal, "Masters, can you hear me?"

Purple electricity arced over the glassy black surface of the gem cluster. There was a silence, then –

"Silt?" asked Skelos's voice, sounding strangely crackly. His image appeared suddenly above the crystal, life size, from the chest up. "It's barely dawn. We may be active from dusk to midnight, but we do enjoy our early morning rest. Skulk still sleeps."

"Forgive me, master Skelos," Silt replied, gazing up at the projection without taking his claw off the crystal, "We have urgent news. I'm afraid it can't wait."

Skelos's expression morphed into one of worry, perhaps having picked up on Silt's anxious tone.

"What happened? Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone is fine," Silt reassured his leader quickly, "Which, I must say, is very lucky considering the situation… There were dragons, master Skelos. Dragons."

Skelos's ocean blue eyes widened, "What? Dragons? In Avalar? How is that possible?"

Silt shook his head anxiously, "I do not know, but that was the first time we have seen them here. We believe the cheetahs must have allied themselves with them since the end of the war. They were guarding the village when we attacked."

The blue-eyed panther leader looked deeply troubled by this, "but you all survived the battle?"

"Yes, luckily," Silt agreed, and his gaze slipped to Orpheus, "It was Orpheus who called the order to retreat. I believe we may have suffered losses if not for that. But there is one more thing…something very important…"

"Let me speak to Orpheus," Skelos requested swiftly. Nodding, Silt beckoned the younger panther over to him.

Standing beside the kneeling Silt, Orpheus looked up at the projection of his leader, "Yes, Master Skelos?"

"You have done well to lead your warriors to Avalar," Skelos praised him, "and to suffer no losses in a battle with dragons… I am impressed. But you seem worried."

"Of course, master!" Orpheus said, "If the cheetahs have allied themselves with the dragons, it may be much harder than we first thought to take Avalar! But, it's not just that… Sir, in the battle, I came across a purple dragon."

Those words had the effect Orpheus had expected. Skelos went rigid, his eyes widening in shocked disbelief.

"That's…that's not possible," he breathed, a strange far-away look in his eyes, "Malefor is dead."

Orpheus shook his head, "I know. It wasn't Malefor. This purple dragon was only young, not yet full grown. But he controlled the four elements with ease, as though he'd been learning them for years."

"You are certain of this, Orpheus?" Skelos asked, returning to his senses as he pushed the shock away.

"Positive."

A troubled but curious look entered the expression of the panther leader, "I see. A purple dragon…that is unexpected. And if the cheetahs truly have allied with them…"

"What would you have us do, Master Skelos?" Silt asked. Skelos seemed deep in thought for quite some time.

"The dragons once inhabited a city to the north of the Valley of Avalar, known as Warfang," he said at last, a plan forming in his mind as he spoke, "Whether or not that city still stands, I am unaware. I want you to head north, just you, my assassins. If Warfang still stands, I want you to infiltrate the city and discover as much information about these dragons, and the purple dragon, as possible. Can you do that?"

Silt bowed his head, "Of course, Master Skelos."

"I want you to stay with the warriors, Silt," Skelos added, "They will need someone to keep them in order. Avoid the cheetah village and wait for further orders."

"Sir," Silt bowed his head and said no more.

Skelos shifted his gaze, "Orpheus, you will go to Warfang. As of now, you are one of the Elite Guard. You are one of my Assassins."

The young panther's eyes widened, "I…I am? But Master Skelos, sir, I didn't even manage to take the cheetah village! How can you bestow this honour on me?"

Skelos's blue eyes hardened, "You have performed admirably, Orpheus. You may not have succeeded in taking Avalar, but the circumstances were not what any of us expected. Thanks to you, two hundred of our panther warriors are safely hidden in Avalar, ready to strike at any moment. You have done enough. Do you not wish to be one of my Assassins?"

"N-no, of course I do!" Orpheus stammered quickly, sinking to one knee, "Thank you, Master Skelos, I will not disappoint you."

Skelos nodded and looked around at his Elite Guard, "Good. Now, Orpheus, Erebos, Agra, Steel, and Nyx; Warfang awaits. Let no dragon see you. You must not be discovered. Take half of the tracking crystal and report your findings back to me. Good luck and may the winds be in your favour."

"One more thing," Skelos turned his eyes on Orpheus again, "As you were the one to see the purple dragon, I will leave it in your duty to find out as much as you can about him. Are we clear?"

Orpheus nodded stiffly, his jaw set.

"Good," the projection of Skelos wavered as he looked behind him, at the room they could not see, "Now I must go. Skulk seems to have woken up. I await your next report, my Assassins."

The projection crackled and disappeared, and Silt removed his paw from the black crystal. Without a word, he drew his thin sword from its scabbard and slashed it down. The blade cut clean through the crystal, cleaving it into two perfect halves. Orpheus stared.

"Take it," Silt said, tossing half to the young panther, "Skelos will want to hear your report once you've found out about your purple dragon."

Orpheus stared at the half crystal in his paws and nodded mutely, slipping it into his pocket. The other panthers were standing up, stretching and exchanging interested glances. None of them had ever been to a dragon city before.

"Do you think it still stands?" Nyx, the female panther, asked Steel.

The grey-eyed panther shrugged, "That's what we're going to find out."

"We'll be seeing you later then, Silt," said Agra, the older panther. Silt nodded respectfully, tucking the other half of the tracking crystal into his tunic.

"Hang on," Orpheus cut in, "my sword-staff is still damaged. I can't go into enemy territory without it…"

"You have a sword, don't you?" Erebos snorted, cuffing his younger brother's shoulder. Orpheus glowered at him.

"Don't worry, Orpheus. You won't need it if you keep out of sight," Silt reassured the young panther, "As long as you have a sword, you are armed against attack. I'll repair your sword-staff for you and return it to you once you have finished your task. I take it your injuries won't hinder you?"

Orpheus held a paw to his ribs, but there was only a dull ache now. Clearly they were only bruised, not broken. The young panther nodded stiffly, feeling both nervous and excited about his first mission as one of the Elite Guard.

"Good luck," Silt nodded, and glanced at the sky, "It's already morning. You'll want to leave now to reach Warfang by nightfall. Use the shadows to sneak into the city."

"If it still stands, that is," Nyx smirked cruelly, fingering her dagger, which was stashed away inside her tunic.

Like shadows themselves, the five panthers turned and slipped away into the forest, heading north. Silt waited until they were out of sight before he turned and strode back to the rest of the panther warriors. Under the shadow of the western mountains, they waited.

Most dragons awoke feeling refreshed and well-rested, unaware that five panthers had used the cover of night to scale the impressive walls and were now hidden within the city itself. But not Spyro, who woke in the very early hours of the morning with the Chronicler's words still ringing through his head, and spent until dawn fretting about it. This kept Cynder awake and she continuously told him to stop fretting and see the guardians in the morning, but to no avail.

But Spyro did take to heart one thing she had suggested, and left to see the guardians almost at first light. Cynder and a disgruntled Sparx accompanied him to the guardian quarters, although the guardians themselves were likely still sleeping. They spent several minutes standing outside in the street, while Spyro knocked impatiently on the door.

"What's that racket?" Cyril groaned as he awoke from his sleep. He'd been dreaming about his coronation as Ice Guardian – a rather good dream, in his opinion. But this infernal knocking sound had woken his from his slumber, interrupting that dream.

With a groan, the ice guardian heaved himself to his feet and lumbered over to his door, poking his head out into the corridor. Volteer, it seemed, was doing the same. But he didn't look nearly as disgruntled as Cyril felt.

"Sounds like some beast is knocking on our door," said the electricity guardian brightly.

"It's barely dawn," Cyril groaned, stepping out of his room, "Who could it be this early?"

"Visitors! Company! Guests!" Volteer chimed happily, following Cyril down the corridor to the entrance room, "Perhaps they come to give us news? Or deliver us breakfast? Or request our presence at the council of Avalar? Or –?"

"Your incessant babbling is likely to chase them away, Volteer," Cyril interrupted icily, "Not that I'd mind. The sooner we get rid of whoever it is, the sooner I can return to my morning slumber."

He threw the door open before Volteer could say anything else and was mildly surprised to see Spyro staring up at him. The purple dragon had a look on his face that said 'what took you so long?' and seemed to be itching with important news. Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get any more sleep this morning, Cyril heaved a sigh and stepped aside.

"Come in, Spyro. What is it this time?"

The purple dragon strode into the room, Cynder and Sparx on his tail. He looked around, nodding politely to Volteer, before settling his gaze on Cyril, who was shutting the door again.

"You might want to get the other guardians. They'll want to hear this," he said, and Cyril thought he heard a note of anxiety in the young dragon's voice.

"Very well."

Minutes later they were joined by Terrador and Thasos, both of whom seemed a little disgruntled by the early morning visit. The earth guardian, as usual, took charge.

"What seems to be the trouble, Spyro?" he asked gravely, "Has something happened?"

"Yes, Terrador," Spyro took a deep breath, "Early this morning I was contacted in my dreams – by the Chronicler."

All four of the guardians gave a start at the name, but it was Thasos who seemed the most surprised. After all, he had not been present when the Chronicler had contacted Spyro four years previously.

"The Chronicler? Now there's a name I haven't heard in a _very_ long time…" the fire guardian frowned, troubled. He, too, had heard the old tales of the Chronicler; dark tales, they were.

"What did he say, Spyro?" Terrador asked calmly.

"He…he asked me to come to him," Spyro replied hesitantly, "to the White Isle. Like before."

"Before?" Thasos repeated, confused, while the other three guardians exchanged dark looks, "You have been contacted by the Chronicler before?"

"Yes, a few years ago…" Spyro trailed off, frowning.

"What does this mean, Terrador?" Cyril asked the earth guardian anxiously, "The last time the Chronicler contacted Spyro was…"

"Before the Night of Eternal Darkness," Terrador finished grimly, "when the Dark Master escaped from the Well of Souls. Yes. I fear if the Chronicler has returned again…dark times may be afoot."

"That's what he said!" Spyro cut in quickly, "He said that the worst was yet to come. But he wouldn't tell me any more…"

The guardians looked grimly at one another. Sparx was wringing his hands anxiously.

"You know, all this talk of doom is very familiar…" the dragonfly muttered, "It gives me the creeps. Can we stop talking like the world is about to end? It's not like the Dark Master is coming back or anything. I mean, he's dead. Right?"

"Right," Spyro agreed, but he didn't sound very reassured. He chewed his lip anxiously and looked up at the Guardians, "Terrador…when the Chronicler summoned me last time, it was to ask me to stay hidden with him in the Celestial Caves and ride out the war."

"Was it?" Terrador asked, suddenly interested, "I see. However, you did not…"

"No," Spyro glanced at Cynder, "I refused. I knew Cynder needed my help. Without me, she would have been corrupted again and I…I couldn't allow that. So I went to the Well of Souls to save her."

"And at the Well of Souls you came face to face with Gaul, so I have heard, and disappeared from all records for three years. Strange how different circumstances may have been if you had accepted the offer to stay on the White Isle." Terrador mused thoughtfully, "But why now has the Chronicler summoned you?"

"We were on the brink of a terrible escalation in the war last time he did so," Cyril said grimly, "I think we all realise this does not bode well for our present situation. Are we about to face another war, do you think, Terrador?"

The earth guardian hesitated and asked, "Did the Chronicler say anything else to you, Spyro? Anything at all?"

"He said…" Spyro screwed up his face, trying to recall the dream, "he said there was something he needed to tell me. Something important that he couldn't tell me in dreams."

There was a long silence in which the guardians all seemed very deep in thought. Spyro exchanged a worried glance with Sparx and Cynder, neither of whom seemed to know what to say. Then at last, Terrador spoke up again.

"If the Chronicler has information that may help, considering Avalar's current situation with the panthers, it may be best for you to heed his summon," the earth guardian said, "Do you agree?"

Terrador looked at everyone in the room, all of whom nodded, except for Sparx, who didn't look pleased at all.

"So you want us to head out on another crazy adventure to visit the same creepy old dragon from before? Yeah, no thanks…think I'll stay right here…"

Spyro gave the dragonfly an exasperated glance, "Sparx…"

"What?" Sparx asked defensively, folding his arms.

Spyro sighed and looked back at Terrador, "Then, with your permission, I will head for the White Isle. I don't know what the Chronicler wants of me…but it's important. It has to be."

Terrador nodded, "Then go, young dragon. Follow your dream. I take it you will accompany him, Cynder?"

"Of course," the black dragoness smiled, with a glance at a surprised Spyro, "Didn't think you'd go alone, did you?"

"And me!" Sparx chimed in suddenly. Every dragon stared at him. "What?"

"You just said you didn't want to go!" Spyro exclaimed, but the dragonfly waved him off.

"Oh please, you wouldn't last a day out there without me," Sparx said coolly.

The purple dragon was already heading for the door, "We'll leave immediately…"

"Wait, Spyro," Terrador called. The young dragon looked back quizzically, "Give yourself a day to prepare. Perhaps you may find some new companions who will join you on your quest…"

Spyro stared and seemed to be fighting the urge to refuse and leave straight away. But at last he nodded and bid farewell to the guardians. He left their quarters with Cynder and Sparx at his side, wondering just where Flame was and what his reaction would be when he asked his help. Unknown to the trio, a pair of green eyes had finally located their prey. Orpheus was on the trail of the purple dragon.

Flame was, surprisingly, at the infirmary. Spyro, who had been irately looking for the fire dragon without luck for the past half hour, had finally given up and gone to visit Kazan instead, who had spent the night at the infirmary. It surprised the purple dragon to find both fire dragons there, especially given the less than warm relationship between the two.

"…want to ask Thasos," Flame was saying when Spyro and Cynder approached. He was standing over Kazan, who lay on a large orange cushion with no trace of his former injuries. Clearly the red gems had done their job.

"He'll be able to explain it, I'm sure," Flame continued, but Spyro noticed Kazan looked less than enthusiastic. In fact, unless Spyro was mistaken, the dark crimson dragon looked almost nervous.

"Can't we just forget about it?" Kazan argued, but his usual anger was lacking, "It was a one-off thing…it might never even happen again!"

Flame glowered, "Thasos will want to know. Don't you want to know why it happened? _I_ want to know! If you won't come with me, then I'll bring him here myself."

Kazan snorted a plume of smoke and turned his head away. Spyro, who had been listening at the doorway, chose that moment to interrupt.

"What are you asking Thasos?" he asked, stepping into the room. Kazan jumped as though something had bitten him, but Flame didn't look surprised at all. He just strode towards the door and ushered Spyro out into the hallway. Leaving Cynder and Sparx in the room, Spyro followed the fire dragon curiously.

"What-?" he began, but Flame cut him off with a raised paw. He looked around warily to make sure no moles were hanging about before he spoke.

"Something strange happened in the battle the other night," Flame murmured darkly, in a voice so low Spyro had to strain to hear, "It was like Kazan's power just spiked, as though he'd been hiding it all along. And, well, I've never seen another fire dragon do something like it…"

"Like what?" Spyro hissed.

"He covered himself in flames," the red dragon said, frowning, "like it was the easiest thing in the world. Most fire dragons can cover a small part of their body in fire – like a paw or the tail – but only for a short moment. Kazan…well, his whole body was on fire for a good ten minutes. I don't know how he managed it. And it's strange because…well, Kazan's not even that good a fire-breather. His flames might be hot, but they're nothing compared to mine or anyone else's in Thasos's combat class. He can't even manage a fury yet. So I don't get where this sudden power came from…"

"You don't think he's been hiding his power, do you?" Spyro asked warily.

"For what reason?" Flame scowled, shaking his head, "No, I don't know what happened that night, but Kazan's the last dragon I know who'd want to conceal his power. There's something strange about him…and I want to ask Thasos. If anyone will know, he will. He's the Fire Guardian, after all."

Spyro took a moment to let that sink in. Then he nodded and said, "If you want to get that over with now, I'll come with you. There's something else I want to ask you, too."

Flame arched a scaly brow in question, but Spyro shook his head and told him "Later." Walking back into the room, they noticed Kazan watching them apprehensively. Sparx was looking impatient as he hovered by Cynder.

"So, are you coming with us or do we have to bring Thasos here?" Flame asked bluntly, fixing his eyes on the other fire dragon.

Kazan scowled and stood up, "I'll come."

"What's going on?" Cynder asked Spyro as they followed the two fire dragons out of the room and down the hallway out of the infirmary.

"You'll see," Spyro told her shortly, and she rolled her eyes.

"I thought we were supposed to be, you know," Sparx made an impatient gesture with his hands, "getting ready?"

"We will, Sparx," Spyro assured him, "just be patient."

The dragonfly grumbled, but fell silent. On their way to the guardian's quarters – with Sparx grumbling that he'd already been there once this morning – they crossed paths with several young dragons.

"Better hurry and get breakfast," one ice dragon said to them as he trotted past, "classes start in an hour!"

"Classes?" Spyro said blankly, staring after the ice dragon.

Flame glanced at the purple dragon, "Yeah, they're back on. They have been since we left for Avalar. Didn't the guardians tell you?"

The purple dragon blinked, bewildered, "No. But, what about yesterday?"

"We were excused," Kazan answered this time, "because we'd just got back from the battle. We're expected to attend today, though."

Spyro frowned. Had the guardians forgotten to tell him? Or did they expect that he would not attend with his preparations to travel to the White Isle? Making a mental note to ask Thasos, Spyro put it out of his thoughts for now.

They soon found themselves at the door to the guardian quarters, and were about to knock when suddenly the door burst open and Thasos himself stood framed in the doorway. The fire guardian seemed surprised to see them there.

"Spyro? Flame? What are you doing here? You should be off getting breakfast! And I've got a class to teach in less than an hour! Those hatchlings will be the death of me…"

"Wait," Flame cut in quickly, before Thasos could usher them aside, "we need to ask you something."

"Now really, Flame, I don't have time," the fire guardian protested.

"It's important!" Flame argued sharply. Thasos blinked and stared at the smaller fire dragon. At last he sighed and stepped aside.

"Oh, very well then, come in. But make it quick."

The small group of young dragons – and Sparx – hurried past Thasos into the main foyer of the guardian's quarters. Thasos followed them back inside and shut the door behind him, looking anxiously impatient.

"Now what is this about, Flame?" he asked.

It didn't take long for Flame to explain the situation, while his audience listened intently, save for Kazan, who was staring determinedly at the carpet as though it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. When Flame had finished, only Spyro looked unsurprised. But Thasos's surprise faded quickly into a strange expression of bittersweet understanding.

"I should have realised sooner," was the first thing he said, more to himself than anyone else. The young dragons stared.

"Realised…what?" Cynder asked timidly. Kazan was paying attention again.

"Kazan's condition, of course," Thasos replied, to everyone's great confusion.

"Condition?" Kazan echoed, sounding a little scared, "What do you mean _condition_? Am I sick?"

Thasos gave a deep-throated chuckle, "No, no, of course not. It's not an illness…not really. It's just a rare condition that dragons are sometimes born with."

The fire guardian looked around at his expectant audience and realised he was expected to give an explanation. With a resigned sigh, Thasos continued.

"All fire dragons have a certain bond with flames, whether from within or from the environment around us," the fire guardian said, "It is in our blood. But there are some fire dragons, and very rare dragons they are, who are born with a certain glitch – a sort of malfunction within the body's genetic composition."

"What?" Sparx hissed in Spyro's ear.

"He means something has gone wrong in the creation of what makes up the body," Spyro hissed back, as simply as he could.

"Oh."

"Because of this malfunction," Thasos continued, "these dragons find that the bond they share with fire is much, much stronger than usual. To put it simply – flames are inexplicably and uncontrollably attracted to their blood and body."

"What?" Kazan yelped suddenly, startling everyone.

"Let me finish," Thasos pressed, quieting the young fire dragon quickly, "This strange condition can be both useful and, in a way, debilitating. For start, dragons with this condition cannot perform furies. The flames they create are far too attracted to their bodies to be pushed outwards and away, as is required for a fury. Instead, the fire clings to their bodies. The range of a normal fire breath in such a dragon is also much shorter, compared to a dragon without the condition."

Kazan looked crestfallen at this news, "So…I'll never be as strong a fire-breather as all the others? I'll never even be able to master the Fury?"

Thasos looked sternly down at the young dragon, "Your flames are no weaker than anyone else's. All it means for you is that your method of fighting will be quite different from theirs. If what Flame tells me is true, you performed your Fury that night you fought the panthers. Instead of exploding outwards, your fire clung to your body. This is, as you might have guessed, a rather useful trick to be used in close combat. Other fire dragons cannot master this style of attack."

Kazan's eyes widened, "So…so I'm not weaker than other fire dragons?"

"Not at all, young dragon," Thasos smiled, "Though I wish I had realised sooner. I have been training you in entirely the wrong way. But, no matter, I know now. And I will teach you how to master your flames. Let us think of this condition not as an illness, but rather as a gift."

Kazan was looking much more relaxed now. The tension seemed to have disappeared from his shoulders. Then it seemed as though a thought had struck him, and he looked up excitedly.

"I can make my crest and tailblade glow!" he said suddenly, "I've been able to since I was a hatchling. Is that part of it?"

Thasos nodded, "I would say so. I've never known another fire dragon to be able to do so. As I said, your condition does have its uses. Now, thank you for tell me this, but I really must be off. I have a class to teach. We will talk in your elemental combat lesson, Kazan, Flame."

The fire guardian turned to leave, but Spyro called him back, remembering his question. "Wait, Thasos! Am I expected to attend classes? I mean…with preparations and everything?"

Thasos faltered and seemed to be thinking hard. As last he shook his head and said, "No, you may be excused. But you cannot keep missing classes, Spyro! You have already missed a week's worth, and who knows how many more you are going to miss! I expect to see you for advanced training at the western courtyard this afternoon."

With a nod at Cynder and Sparx, Thasos was gone. Spyro stood for a moment, a little stunned by the fire guardian's sudden departure. Then, slowly, annoyance crept into his thoughts. He was expected for advanced training? He was about to undertake a serious endeavour that could decide the fate of the dragon race, and he was still expected at training? Hadn't he learnt enough?

"Preparations for what?" Flame asked suspiciously, jolting Spyro out of his angry train of thought. Spyro jumped.

"Oh…" he mumbled, as though he'd lost his thread, "I was going to ask you about that…"

"About _what_?" Flame growled, looking annoyed. Kazan, who had been standing in a sort of daze, was suddenly listening with great interest.

"I'm going to see the Chronicler," Spyro said bluntly, "and I want you to come with me."

It was early afternoon. Most young dragons were in class, either sitting in their dusty old classrooms, or outside in one of the various courtyards for combat practice. But there were five dragons who were not attending these classes. They were accompanied by a glowing yellow dragonfly.

"Me! You asked me to help _you_! You! The purple dragon!" Flame's laugh was loud and obnoxious. Spyro rolled his eyes, but Ember nudged the fire dragon roughly.

"Stop it, Flame! You're acting like your old self!" she snapped, blue eyes glinting.

"Right…sorry," Flame mumbled and fell quiet.

After Spyro had asked his help, he'd gone straight to Ember and told her. Of course, she too had requested to come. And no amount of arguing could dissuade Kazan from accompanying them, either. He'd even gone so far to suggest asking Zannak, Ciro and the girls for help. Spyro was reluctant to do so.

"So are you asking them or not?" the crimson dragon asked for the fifth time as they headed for the northern courtyard. Spyro scowled and didn't reply.

"Come on, Spyro! The more help the better, right?" Kazan continued, "You have no idea what's out there. What about the panthers? Wouldn't it be safer to travel in a big group than just the five of us?"

"Six!" Sparx protested, and Cynder gave him a look.

"I hate to admit it, but he has a point, Spyro," said the black dragoness, speeding up to walk beside her mate. Spyro glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I know, but…"

Her emerald eyes were soft, "You're worried about putting them in danger, aren't you?"

Spyro looked away. Flame and Ember, who had been bickering quietly between themselves, fell silent. Even Kazan refrained from continuing his argument. They could feel Spyro's worries hanging in the air around them, like a damp cloud.

"This is my mission," Spyro sighed at last, "and I should be the only one to take it. I'm letting you come with me, because I know you'd never let me go alone. But…I don't want to put anyone else in danger when it isn't necessary."

"If we don't do something about the panthers, we could all be in danger," Cynder replied, as gently as she could, "That's what this mission is about – finding information that will help us beat them. And Kazan's right – the more of us there are, the safer we will be. Safety in numbers, after all."

"But-," Spyro began.

"Ask them!" Cynder interrupted, smiling, "They're our friends! They'll want to know! And they'll want to help, I'm sure of it. I wouldn't mind having them along for the ride, how about you?"

Kazan, Flame and Ember shook their heads. Sparx shrugged and said, "Hey, the more the merrier, right?"

Spyro sighed, "Alright. We'll ask them. We're heading that way, anyway. They'll be in combat class."

Combat class for the older adolescent dragons was held in the northern courtyard, not far from the Academy. They found Seriphos there, teaching a class of about thirty dragons of all different colours and elements. The class had been broken up into groups of three and instructed to work together to defeat their opponents: the scruffy, straw-filled dummies that Spyro had once practiced on. Spyro's group sat on the outskirts of the courtyard for a while, watching the proceedings.

Ember spotted Saffron and Zephira, working together with the green dragoness Nalu, fighting dummies near the middle of the courtyard. Saffron was by far the fastest, running circles around both her allies and her opponents as she zapped the dummies with electricity. Nalu, being an earth dragon, finished off the dummies that Saffron chased towards her, while Zephira trapped the ones that tried to escape in small but powerful whirlwinds.

"Remember to mix physical attacks with elemental attacks! You can't always rely on your magic!" Seriphos yelled, walking around the courtyard to check on every group. He looked sternly at the three dragonesses. "Girls! You're using far too much elemental magic! Focus on physical combat!"

Saffron grimaced and recalled her electricity, "Fine, fine. Zeph, take that one's left side."

The wind dragoness darted towards the dummy as Saffron had instructed, just as the electricity dragoness bullied into its right side. With a despairing squeal, the dummy was torn into shreds as the two dragonesses attacked from either side. Seriphos nodded in approval.

"Better, keep it up." And he moved on to the next group.

Zannak and Ciro didn't have a third member to their party. There had been an uneven number, so instead they fought as a pair. And a formidable duo they were. Zannak was fast, if not as fast as his sister, and Ciro provided strength to the mix. The normally laid-back friends darted through their straw-stuffed enemies, destroying them with little help from elemental magic. Seriphos watched them with great approval.

"You'll make fine warriors one day, boys," he praised, before moving on to the next group of three, who seemed to be having a little trouble. The smallest of the three had been pinned down by several dummies, and his teammates were trying unsuccessfully to knock them off. Seriphos came quickly to the rescue, to their relief.

"Shall we ask?" Ember asked, after several minutes of just watching.

"Yeah," Spyro agreed. He waited until Seriphos had walked back into earshot before calling out to him.

"Spyro! Why are you and your friends not in my class?" the earth dragon asked, striding over to them.

"Sorry, Seriphos, but we've got an important journey to prepare for," Spyro smiled apologetically. A look of understanding crossed Seriphos's face.

"Oh, yes," he said, "I remember the guardians telling me. Did you need something?"

"Actually…" Spyro hesitated but, at a glace from Cynder, said, "We need to talk with Saffron, Ciro, Zannak and Zephira. If that's…ok?"

Seriphos frowned, "I see… Well, if it wasn't important I'm sure you wouldn't have interrupted my class. Very well, I shall fetch them. Wait here."

He strode back into the courtyard, dodging around dummies and dragons, and several minutes later returned with the four young dragons at his side. They all looked very interested by Spyro's sudden wish to talk to them. Never had they been called out of class before.

"Make it quick," Seriphos said, before returning to supervising his students.

"What's up, Spyro?" Zannak asked unconcernedly, with a crooked grin.

"And where have you all been, anyway?" Saffron added, cocking an eyebrow, "It's not like any of you to miss combat class. You weren't in History, Magic studies or Scripture either."

Flame gave a sort of friendly grimace, "We've got a lot to tell you. Spyro?"

The purple dragon took a deep breath, "Very early this morning I was contacted by the Chronicler. He summoned me to the White Isle."

Zephira gave an audible gasp, and the other three exchanged surprised glances. Nearly everyone in Warfang had heard of the Chronicler. Even the name was sacred.

"We're heading out tomorrow morning," Spyro said, "and I wanted to know if you wanted to come too. We could use your help."

Zephira was stunned, "You…you mean, go with you? To see the Chronicler?"

Spyro nodded. Zannak and Ciro exchanged wild grins, their eyes glowing with excitement.

"Awesome," they crowed together.

"Incredible," Saffron breathed, eyes shining with a kind of awe, "I've only heard stories about the Chronicler. They say he's almost a celestial spirit and that he lives for an entire age, no matter how long or short that age may be. Apparently he knows more than any other creature in the world. To think that we could actually meet him…"

"Does that mean you're coming?" Spyro asked. Everyone stared at him incredulously, as though he should have already known the answer.

"Of course!" Zephira and Saffron said simultaneously.

"We wouldn't miss this!" Zannak agreed, grinning.

"You've got yourself four new travelling partners," Ciro said with a wink, and then added, "Guess that means no more classes for a while."

"Well of course, we're not even going to _be_ here," Saffron said, rolling her eyes.

"The Chronicler…" Zephira murmured, her eyes misting over.

"Told you they'd want to help," Cynder smirked in Spyro's ear. The purple dragon couldn't help but grin.

Spyro's advanced training didn't go well that afternoon. Pre-occupied with thoughts about his journey to the Celestial Caves, he could barely concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing. So, instead of creating lava, he accidently caused his flame to explode no less than a dozen times. At last, tired of seeing Spyro reeling backwards with ash covering his muzzle, Thasos had called it a night.

"You need to concentrate!" the fire guardian had told his pupil as they walked together out of the courtyard, "You can't control such a dangerous element without complete and utter concentration!"

"I'm trying, Thasos! I just…can't get it," Spyro scowled, scuffing the cobblestones with a paw, "Maybe I'm just not strong enough."

Thasos smiled kindly, "Don't worry, Spyro. You will succeed soon enough. You just need to practice. Believe in yourself. Now, I want you to come see us before you leave tomorrow. Don't go running off without telling us. This is a very serious task you're about to undertake. You must be very careful. And I want to hear you've been practicing with your advanced elements while you are away. I'll be making sure Zephira continues to teach you the element of wind, too."

"Yes, Thasos," was all Spyro could think of to say.

With Thasos's words still ringing in his ears, he stumbled back up to his room. As expected, Sparx was already there, snoring loudly. Exhausted, the purple dragon fell asleep almost as soon as he collapsed on his cushions. But, unnoticed by him, not everyone in the city was sleeping.

Cynder and Ember were too excited to sleep. The girls had been chatting in Cynder's room since late afternoon. Neither had ever seen the Chronicler before, or had ever expected they would. They had heard the stories, everyone had, but the knowledge that they would soon meet this fabled dragon of legend was almost more than they could believe.

"And Spyro's met him before?" Ember asked eagerly as night fell outside.

Cynder nodded, "Yes, once. He told me he was very wise and very old. And that he had a library far bigger than the one here."

Ember's azure eyes misted over dreamily, "I wonder what it must be like to know everything about the world…"

Cynder snickered and nudged Ember with her hips, "It'd be far too much for you to handle. Your head would explode."

Ember made a face of mock outrage and pushed Cynder's shoulder playfully, "Ooh, you're a nasty piece of work, Cynder! I'd be scared if _you_ knew everything there ever was to know!"

"Yeah," Cynder lowered herself to the ground, a sly grin on her face, "you wouldn't want to know what I could do with that sort of information. Or where I might…strike…_next_!"

She punctuated the last word by pouncing on Ember, who squealed with laughter as she was bowled over. The two dragonesses rolled over into the silver treasure chest against Cynder's wall, laughing and mock wrestling. The chest wobbled and tipped over, the lid flipping open as it struck the floor with a bang. Pieces of armour spilled across the floor with a clatter. Still giggling, the two girls untangled themselves and stood up.

"Oops," Ember giggled, holding a paw to her mouth as she surveyed the mess they had made.

Cynder grimaced, "I hope we didn't wake anyone. Help me pack this stuff up."

After righting the chest, the friends began to gather up the fallen pieces of armour and put them back. Cynder was just placing a black helm in the chest, when a clattering behind her told her than Ember had just dropped something. The black dragoness glanced behind her to see the pink dragoness was staring at something on the floor with an expression remarkably similar to horror.

"Ember?" Cynder asked tentatively, turning around, "Are you ok?"

The pink dragoness gulped wordlessly and took a step away from something shining and silver on the floor in front of her. Cynder took a step closer, saw what it was, and a sudden feeling of horrible realisation surfaced inside her.

"Oh…oh no…" she stammered.

"Why?" Ember cried suddenly, her eyes wide and fearful, "Why is… are those…? I-it can't be…"

On the floor was a pair of metal claws, adorned with a poisonous green strip down each talon. Alta's Poison Claws. Cynder felt a horrible shudder pass over her body.

"Yes…" she whispered, and Ember's scales paled almost to white.

"Why?" she cried, "Why are they here?"

"I don't know!" Cynder yelled back, her voice hitching, not daring to meet Ember's eyes.

"Then why do you have them?" Ember sobbed, angry tears welling in her eyes, "Tell me!"

Cynder screwed her eyes up and screamed, "Because I took them! I took them!"

She could feel her eyes stinging with the threat of tears. Her throat felt like it was closing up and her legs suddenly felt weak and shaky. Ember was staring at her in horror, disbelief etched into her tear-filled eyes.

"Why…why would you do that?" she hissed in little more than a choked whisper, "Why would you take those horrible things? They belong to _him_! And they should have been destroyed with _him_!"

A sob escape Cynder's mouth, "I don't know, ok? I don't know why I took them or why I kept them! I just…I just _did_!"

A tear rolled down her cheek. The black dragoness at last met Ember's eyes, "I don't know what made me do it. They were there and I…I took them. It was like something was telling me to take them, like I was meant to… I don't know why, Ember. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never meant to use them."

Ember seemed to have regained some of her composure. She sniffled softly and wiped her eyes with a paw, still keeping well away from the metal claws.

"Does Spyro know?" she asked at last.

Cynder's gaze dropped to her paws, "No. No one does. Only you now."

"Y-you should tell him," Ember sniffed, "he deserves to know."

But Cynder shook her head quickly, "No, no I can't. I…I don't know how he'd react. Promise me you won't tell him!"

Ember hesitated, glancing from the metal claws to Cynder.

"Promise me!" Cynder tried again, desperately. Ember took a deep breath.

"Ok," she said, "I won't tell him. But sooner or later you need to let him know. Before he finds out himself."

The pink dragoness strode towards the door, looking back anxiously at her friend, "Goodnight, Cynder. I'll see you in the morning."

And then she was gone, leaving Cynder alone, surrounded by pieces of armour and filled with her own thoughts, doubts and regrets. Ember was right. Sooner or later Spyro would find out. But Cynder couldn't bring herself to tell him. She had no idea how he might react. And even she didn't know herself – why had she taken the Poison Claws? What had compelled her to do so?

The black dragoness fell asleep hoping that Spyro never found out about them. Outside in the corridor, a shadow moved towards her door.

The sun was setting by the time Orpheus made his report. The panther had been following Spyro around all day, being extra careful to stay out of sight. Several times he had almost been spotted, not by Spyro but by other dragons. They seemed to be everywhere, and this city was far bigger than he had been expecting. Erebos found him just before sunset, hiding in a small nook in one of the buildings.

"What have you found out?" Orpheus hissed nervously.

"There's dragons everywhere," Erebos muttered, his purple eyes flashing, "Thousands of them. Unless they're a weak, peace-loving race – which I highly doubt – we're going to have a hard time fighting against them. I doubt we outnumber them by more than a hundred. What about you? Did you find your purple dragon?"

"I found him," Orpheus confirmed grimly, "And followed him around all day. Staying out of sight was tricky."

"I hope you weren't spotted," his older brother growled. Orpheus waved a paw impatiently.

"Of course not. But he's definitely a purple dragon – no doubt about it. And from the looks of it, he's in his teenage years."

"So, like you," Erebos grinned, a teasing edge to his voice. Orpheus glared.

"I'm going to contact Skelos. I've got some very important information," he said, "Anything you want to say to him?"

"Just tell him that the dragons' numbers are very similar to our own," Erebos replied, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder, "I'm going to see if I can find the others. Don't let anyone see you. We should have the run of the city once the sun sets."

Orpheus waited until his brother was gone before fishing out the half crystal that Silt had given him. He held it in the palm of his hand, glanced around to make sure he was alone and hidden, and whispered Skelos's name. The crystal crackled with purple energy and, seconds later, Skelos's face appeared above it. The projection wavered slightly before it settled and became clear.

"Orpheus? What have you found?" Skelos's voice was lower and eager. There was movement in the background of the projection that suggested Skulk was there too.

"We're inside Warfang," Orpheus reported in a hushed voice, "and it's much bigger than I expected. I tracked down the purple dragon, like you said. He's only a teenager. His name is Spyro."

Skelos nodded as he took in this information, "I see…and have you found out much about him?"

"I followed him around most of the day," Orpheus said, "He seems a rather heroic sort – always eager to help his friends, reluctant to put them in danger. He also seems to be particularly worried about us. He seems to think we are a threat to his city."

"And perhaps we will be," Skelos said thoughtfully, eyes glinting.

"He has a right to be worried!" said Skulk's voice suddenly, from behind Skelos, "The panther clan is no light matter! If the dragons stand in our way to reclaim Avalar, then we will remove them, too."

Orpheus frowned, "Erebos tells me that there are many dragons in the city, almost as many panthers as you command, masters. Our numbers are nearly even…"

Skelos frowned, "That is troubling…however, until I have seen them fight together, I cannot gauge how much of a threat they will be. It may be best if we test their defences before rushing headlong into battle with them. They may even be persuaded to stand aside and not interfere with our plans to take Avalar. That purple dragon, however, poses a problem…"

"I think I have information that may be able to help," Orpheus cut in excitedly, "You see, I overheard the purple dragon speak of a quest he is about to undertake. To see the Chronicler!"

"The Chronicler?" Skelos frowned, "The dragon of legend?"

"He's leaving tomorrow, in the morning," Orpheus added, "And he may not return for quite some time…"

Skelos's eyes lit up, "I see! With the purple dragon out of the city, it may be the perfect time to test Warfang's defences and find out just how formidable a foe these dragons may be! Well done, Orpheus. This information will prove most useful…"

"Thankyou, Master Skelos," Orpheus grinned, looking relieved, "I did my best to bring it to you."

Skelos had turned briefly to discuss something with Skulk. Seconds later his face reappeared in the projection and he said, "We will begin making preparations immediately to join the others at Avalar. I want you and the other Assassins to remain in Warfang. It can't hurt to have a few allies behind enemy lines. Remain hidden. I will contact Silt and let him know."

"Yes, Master Skelos."

"One more thing, Orpheus," Skelos added, eyes gleaming, "Remember the object I gave you before you left?"

Frowning, Orpheus fished the little object out of his tunic pocket. It was a tracking gem, smooth and domed, about the side of the pad of his paw. Nodding, he looked back up at the projection of Skelos.

"I want you to find a way to attach that to whatever creature is closest to the purple dragon," the panther leader said, "A best friend, perhaps?"

"He has a mate," Orpheus offered, "a black dragoness named Cynder."

Skelos looked surprised, "the Terror of the Skies? I had heard she perished with the Dark Master."

Orpheus shrugged, "I do not know. This Cynder may share the same name as Malefor's beast, but she is small, young and innocent, from what I have seen."

Skelos waved an impatient paw, "No matter; that is unimportant. Find a way to attach that tracking gem to this Cynder, then. Make sure she doesn't notice. If you need it to be smaller, you may whittle it down. Remember, if it comes in contact with any other gem, it _will_ absorb that gem's colour. You may find that useful…"

"Yes, Master Skelos."

"Good. If all goes well, we will be seeing you soon, Orpheus. Good luck."

"May the winds be in your favour," Orpheus whispered, just before the projection crackled and disappeared. He stuffed the half tracking crystal in his pocket and glanced down at the other tracking gem, the little domed one. A half-formed idea was surfacing in his mind.

"I think I know just what to do with you…" Orpheus murmured to the gem. Then he slipped out of his hiding place and hurried off to find the black dragoness known as Cynder.

Orpheus was glad he'd seen Cynder enter her room earlier in the day. Now he knew exactly where it was at the very time that he needed it. It was already dark and there were no dragons left in the streets. The young panther ran through the shadows, silent as a ghost, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. He couldn't be seen.

He reached the corridor outside Cynder's room, just as a pink dragoness stalked out of it. Orpheus quickly hid himself in the shadows, hardly daring to breathe as the dragoness walked past him. But she seemed pre-occupied with her thoughts and didn't even look in his direction. Nevertheless, Orpheus waited until she was long gone before he dared to move again. Quietly, he crept up to Cynder's door and pressed an ear to it, listening for any sounds within that would suggest she was still awake. He heard nothing.

Trying to calm his hammering heart, Orpheus gently eased the door open a crack and peered into the room. He could make out Cynder's sleek form stretched across the cushions next to the left wall, moonlight shining off her scales. Her sides rose and fell with even breaths that assured the panther she was asleep. A pile of armour had been pushed to the side and cluttered around the base of a silver chest. Without a sound, Orpheus slipped into the room.

He crept over to the dragoness and knelt in front of her. She had a handsome, sleek face, and several graceful ivory horns. But Orpheus's eyes were drawn to the ornament around her neck. A large domed emerald was set in the silver necklet, slightly smaller than the tracking crystal that Orpheus had in his paw. The young panther scowled once he realised this. As quiet as the grave, he stood up again and crept out onto the balcony, drawing his dagger from his belt.

It took him several minutes to whittle the tracking gem down to what he hoped was the right size. Swallowing nervously, Orpheus crept back into the room and knelt in front of the dragoness again. She was still fast asleep, to his relief. The young panther raised his dagger and set the point to the edge of the emerald in Cynder's necklace. Hoping against hope that this movement wouldn't wake her, he gently pried the emerald out of its space. It came out easier than he expected, to his great relief.

Heart hammering madly, Orpheus let the emerald fall into his paw and drew his dagger back. He then touched the edge of the tracking crystal against the precious gem and watched with amazement as the colour slowly seeped into the formally black crystal. Soon, he could have been holding two identical emeralds in his paw. Picking up the disguised tracking gem, he carefully inserted it into the round space once occupied by the emerald. It fit perfectly, to his great relief, just tight enough that it wouldn't slip out.

Standing up, Orpheus slipped his dagger back into his belt, checked to make sure Cynder was still asleep, and crept back out of the room. Once back in the corridor, he closed Cynder's door soundlessly and hurried off, slipping the real emerald into his pocket. His presence went completely unnoticed. Cynder would never know that he had even been there.

**A/N: I love my panthers. That is all. Yes, Kazan has a weird condition that only effects fire dragons and only very rarely. I just came up with it one day... :P Review or I'll eat your souls! Er...I mean, thank you very much, reviewers, I love you!** **=3 If you review again, I'll give you cookies! Lots and lots of virtual cookies!** **Also, chapter 11 is almost finished, so expect that in another week or so.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Writer's block is a bitch. That is all.  
**

**11.**

"Are we ready?"

Eight dragons faced Spyro, their expressions a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Spyro could feel the beating of his own nervous heart, but the reassuring light from Sparx, who hovered near his left shoulder, somehow calmed him. It was early morning, and the skies were a clear pale blue. A strong wind had picked up.

"We're ready, Spyro. But are you?" Cynder asked, her voice cutting through the silence. They had met in the Western Courtyard and were waiting for the guardians to join them.

Spyro hesitated under the gazes of eight different pairs of eyes. Green, blue, violet, and gold met his own vibrant lavender orbs, full of determination. They were ready; they were eager. So why did he feel so nervous; so reluctant?

"I…" Spyro swallowed and glanced at Sparx, who looked back at him expectantly. The purple dragon took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" a dull thud reached their ears, the sound of paws hitting stone. Spyro spun around and came face to face with a pair of taunting hazel eyes. The dragon they belonged to was a very unwelcome sight, especially on this morning, on the eve of a daring and dangerous adventure. But this dark green, hazel-eyed dragon seemed entirely unconcerned by how unwelcome he was here.

"I said, ready for what?" Chasm asked again, baring white fangs in a triumphant smile, as though he'd caught them doing something compromising. He took a few steps forward and several of the gang moved protectively in front of Cynder. The black dragoness, however, didn't seem pleased by this. As though she wanted to prove she could take care of herself, Cynder pushed her way between Zannak and Saffron to face the bulky earth dragon.

"Buzz off, Chasm," she snapped impatiently, "this has nothing to do with you."

A weird look passed over Chasm's face; an expression caught somewhere in the middle of anger, amusement, and desire. It was when that horrible smirk crept across his face that Cynder realised with disgust that her outburst a few days ago had done more harm than good. It was just as she had feared. If anything, her defiance had only made him want her more.

"But Cyn, when you're around, it's _always_ to do with me," Chasm simpered, his hazel eyes glinting unnervingly. Spyro felt his blood begin to boil beneath his purple scales.

"She said buzz off, you vile worm!" Saffron snapped, tossing her yellow head defiantly, "So get lost!"

Chasm's eyes shifted to her briefly, displeased, "I don't remember asking your opinion, lizard. Keep your ugly mouth shut when I'm talking to Cynder!"

Zannak's bright blue eyes flashed with anger, "Hey! Nobody speaks to my sister like that! Why don't you drag your ugly tail back to your mother before I rearrange your face?"

Chasm paused, the smallest amount of anger entering his expression. Then he smiled a cruel, mocking smile and replied, "At least I _have_ a mother. That's more than I can say for you."

Ciro had to jump on Zannak to stop him from charging the earth dragon, but Saffron was too quick. Before anyone could stop her, she had stepped forward and struck Chasm as hard as she could across the face. Her silver talons left three shallow cuts in his cheek. The earth dragon staggered slightly, blinking dumbly at the pain. But he recovered quickly, gave Saffron an ugly look of hate, and rammed his thick horns heftily into her chest. She was thrown backwards with a shriek and landed awkwardly on the cobblestones.

"Saffron!" Zephira squeaked in alarm.

Kazan leapt on Zannak, too. The electricity dragon had let out a scream of rage upon seeing his sister struck, and electricity began to spark at his jaws. It took all of his two friends' strength to hold him back, while his bright eyes flashed with anger.

"Don't you dare touch her!"

"Zannak, stop it!" Ciro yelled, almost entirely on top of his friend, his paws fastened around his chest.

Kazan clutched grimly at his lashing tail, refusing to let go. "He's not worth it!" the fire dragon yelled to Zannak. But the electric dragon only snarled in response.

Spyro watched, his heart beginning to pound with anger. Blood was pounding in his head, blurring his senses. Saffron struggled back to her feet, wincing at the bruises on her chest. Ember had moved in front of her, her blue eyes blazing with an angry fire.

"How _dare _you?" the pink dragoness hissed, "Hurting my friend like that… You'd better get out of here before I slap some sense into you myself!"

Chasm cast a look over her robust body and sneered, "I wouldn't get involved if I were you, chunky."

Ember looked too offended to respond, but Flame did it for her. The fire dragon strode past Zannak, who was still struggling against Ciro and Kazan, and planted himself firmly in front of Ember.

"Get – the – _hell_ – away from us, before I torch your sorry ass!" Flame snarled, his hackles rising, "Nobody insults Ember and gets away with it!"

Chasm leant closer, grinning horribly, "Looks like I just did, Smokey."

Smoke began to rise from Flame's nostrils and he looked like he was about to incinerate the earth dragon there and then, but suddenly Cynder interrupted.

"Enough!" she screamed, startling everyone, "This idiot is my problem! Let _me_ deal with him!"

Everyone stared at her. Spyro could hardly see through the haze of anger that was covering his eyes. It was like the world was turning red. He wanted Chasm gone; he wanted him gone _now_. Under Cynder's wilting glare, everyone began to back away. Zannak stopped struggling, but continued to glare unconcealed hate at the earth dragon.

"That's right, tell your friends to leave us be," Chasm smirked, whirling on Cynder and moving close to her, "Give us some time alone. I'd like that…wouldn't you?"

Anger flared in Spyro's heart, hotter than before. The cobblestones beneath his claws were melting.

"Ugh," groaned Cynder, leaning away from Chasm's muzzle with a look of disgust on her face, "Go flirt with someone else, you brute."

"But I don't want someone else," Chasm crowed, shifting the barb of his wing so that it was beneath her chin, "I want you…"

He raised her snout to meet his own, and Spyro's anger almost reached breaking point. No one else, too busy watching Chasm with disgust, noticed the way his scales were flickering between purple and black. No one else noticed the way his eyes were beginning to glow white.

Cynder stepped away suddenly, jerking her snout away from him, and slapped him hard, just as Saffron had done. His head jerked to the side, but he looked up again just as quickly and stepped towards her, eyes glowing with mad desire. The watching dragons fought the urge to attack.

"I will have you," Chasm hissed, stepping closer, "I will have you, even if you struggle, even if you continue to fight me, even if you continue to defy me!"

Cynder glared at him with disgust, her lip curling, fighting the urge to step backwards and preparing to strike again.

"I _will_ have you!"

Spyro's anger snapped. With a thunderous roar, a shadowy paw seemed to come out of nowhere and struck Chasm's head so hard that he was thrown bodily to the ground. Cynder gave a shriek of surprised that was mirrored by Ember, Saffron and Zephira. Spyro, his jaws open in a furious scream, dived on the groaning Chasm. Claws flashing, he proceeded to tear the earth dragon apart, ignoring the screams of the girls.

"Spyro! Spyro, no! Stop!" Cynder yelled frantically, while Chasm screamed and thrashed, trying to escape the dark dragon.

"Get him off! Get him off!" Chasm cried, tears of fear and pain springing into his eyes. Spyro's claws dug deep into his flank, splattering dark blood across the ground. Chasm howled in pain, tears flying from his eyes.

"Spyro!" Ember screamed, running forwards, but Cynder held a wing out and stopped her. The two dragonesses watched in horror.

Spyro's scales were no longer purple. They were swathed in black shadows and there were no pupils in his glowing white eyes. Rage radiated off him in waves, purple energy sparked in his jaws, and his monstrous howls penetrated every inch of Cynder's soul. Ciro, Zannak and Kazan were horrified.

"Stop him!" Kazan was yelling, "He's going to kill him! Somebody stop him!"

"Spyro! Damn it! Spyro!" Ciro howled, too afraid to get any closer, fear in his eyes.

Zannak had rushed forwards, but couldn't get any closer for fear of Spyro's lashing tail and hind legs, and Chasm's flailing limbs. Dark blood sprayed across the cobblestones and Chasm's screams reached higher octaves.

"Stop it! Spyro! What are you doing?" Zannak yelled, still trying to get closer, but jumping back every time, "You're killing him!"

"Snap out of it!" Zephira begged, tears pouring down her face, "Please! Please, stop it!"

But Spyro heeded none of their words. His mind was too far gone; his rage was too overpowering. A part of him wanted Chasm dead, and that part was taking over. Ciro turned and wrapped his wings around his shaking, sobbing sister, pulling her face into his chest. He didn't want her to watch this. Saffron stood watching in a kind of horrified trance. She couldn't say or do anything, as though she had been turned to stone.

"Enough!" Flame yelled, spitting fire bombs at the fighting dragons, "I said _enough_, Spyro!"

The bombs exploded around Spyro and Chasm, some even exploding on Spyro's back. But the dark dragon didn't even seem to feel them. Chasm was begging for mercy, a pitiful sobbing mess. If they hadn't been watching Spyro tear him to shreds, Cynder might have been pleased to see him reduced to a sobbing wreck. But not like this. She didn't want him dead; and she didn't want his blood on Spyro's claws.

"Spyro!" she cried, dry-eyed, "Spyro, I know you can hear me! You have to stop this! You're killing him!"

Spyro snarled and sank his fangs into Chasm's neck, biting down harder. Chasm howled in terror, feeling the pressure build up at the base of his neck, feeling his blood roll down his scales in rivulets. Cynder's heart was beating frantically.

"You don't want this, Spyro! I know you!" she called, hoping against hope her words would reach his heart. "You'd never kill anyone! You're a gentle dragon! You're Spyro! Please! Please! You're the dragon I love; the dragon I want to spend the rest of my life with; the dragon who'd do anything for his friends! You're not _this_!"

Chasm thrashed violently; Spyro's grip on his neck was miraculously loosening. Cynder trembled.

"Come back to us!" she cried, just as the thundering of paws on cobblestones announced the arrival of the guardians. A tear rolled down Cynder's cheek as she whispered, "I love you."

Spyro removed his teeth from Chasm's neck, leaving a bloody bite mark in his scales. He slowly crawled off the sobbing, bleeding earth dragon, and backed away. The shadows melted away from his scales and the cold light left his eyes, leaving him a blood splattered, pale-cheeked, trembling purple dragon. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. It made him feel ill and he swayed on his feet.

"Spyro…" Cyril breathed, and the purple dragon realised suddenly that the guardians were there. "Spyro, what have you done?"

Spyro's head reeled. He saw Chasm lying broken on the ground, bleeding from countless lacerations that covered his bloodied body. He saw his friends staring at him, their faces full of horror and terror, Zephira hiding under her brother's wing. He saw the guardians and their sad, pained, disappointed eyes. And he saw Cynder, gazing at him, her eyes full of hurt and fear, as though he'd betrayed her somehow.

"Spyro?" the purple dragon looked sharply to his left. Sparx had just come out of a bush, where he had obviously been hiding. The terror with which he looked at Spyro now was like a knife through the purple dragon's heart. His own brother was terrified of him.

"What have I…?" Spyro swallowed, staggering, looking frantically around, "What have I done? What did I do? C-Cynder?"

The black dragoness trembled and shook her head, "Oh, Spyro…"

He couldn't face them. With a howl like a wounded wolf, Spyro spun away from the scene and fled as fast as he could away. He didn't care what direction he was heading in, or where he was going to, all he wanted was to get as far away as possible from their hurt, their fear, their disappointment. He didn't care that dragons were staring at him as he dashed past in a whirl of blood and tears. He didn't care that his paws were hitting the ground so hard that the cobblestones were cutting gashes in his delicate pads. He just had to get away.

Orpheus flattened himself to the rough stone wall, holding a paw to his pounding heart. He felt cold and clammy with fear and trembles wracked his slim, lithe body. The young panther swallowed with difficulty and sank to the ground, covering his eyes with a shaking paw. He'd seen everything from his hiding place near the western courtyard. He'd seen the dark demon that the purple dragon had turned into; watched as he viciously attacked one of his own.

'_What beasts are these dragons?'_ Orpheus thought to himself, taking short shaky breaths as he tried to calm himself down, _'They are not civilised creatures. They are monsters! I was wrong about that purple dragon. He is not kind and gentle as he first appeared…he is a demon! A monster…'_

The trembling panther reached into the folds of his tunic, searching for the tracking gem. He had half a mind to contact Skelos and tell him about the horrible monster that the purple dragon was; tell him that this purple dragon was no different from the last. But slowly Orpheus's frantic fear faded, and he began to think clearer.

No, Skulk and Skelos would not care what the purple dragon was like. All that mattered to them was getting rid of him. Telling them about the dark monster that the young dragon had turned into would only prove to them how terrified he, Orpheus, was. They would see how scared he was of a measly little dragon and scorn him. They would know all about his lack of courage.

Orpheus withdrew his paw from his pocket, taking a deep breath. No, they didn't need to know. The young panther stood up, pleased that the trembles in his legs had subsided. Resting one paw on the wall, he peered through the bushes into the courtyard. The purple dragon hadn't returned, but the other young dragons were all crowded around the green one on the ground.

The huge green dragon, who Orpheus knew to be the earth guardian, ushered them all aside to get a better look at the injured dragon on the ground. As Orpheus watched, the guardians lifted the injured young dragon onto the back of the earth guardian, who then exchanged some inaudible words with the other young dragons. The panther watched as the guardians strode out of the courtyard, taking the wounded dragon with them.

Steeling his nerves, Orpheus crept closer and strained to hear what the remaining young dragons were saying. He could see their expressions from his hiding place. They all looked severely shaken and afraid. But the black dragoness, Cynder, just looked sad. He watched the yellow dragoness try to comfort her, but Cynder pushed her away.

"I'm sorry," he heard Cynder say, "I need to find Spyro."

And with that she turned and ran out of the courtyard, tracing Spyro's blood-splattered steps. The other young dragons stared at each other, and Orpheus heard the blue one say, "What now?"

But the panther was not interested in them at the moment. He didn't stop to listen; just slunk after Cynder, keeping in the shadows cast by the buildings, careful not to be seen.

Cynder ran through the streets, her insides a turmoil of worries and anxieties. She hadn't seen which way Spyro had run, but he was not hard to follow. His bloodied paws had left a crimson trail over the cobblestones, which Cynder followed as swiftly as she could. Dragons were keeping well out of the way of the gruesome path of blood, and they watched Cynder with confusion as she rushed past them. But there was no sign of Spyro.

'_Oh Spyro, where are you? Where did you go?' _Cynder wondered anxiously, loping through the streets. His trail was leading her towards the northern section of the city. Cynder had a feeling he didn't care where he was going.

It was several minutes before Spyro finally came into view. In his blind dash he had managed to corner himself at the end of an alleyway, and it was there now that he lay sobbing on the ground. Cynder halted at the mouth of the alley, considered the purple dragon for a moment, and then strode towards him.

Spyro was curled into the fetal position, his bloody paws over his face and his hind legs and tail tucked tightly against his body. Every sob wracked his body violently, so that he appeared to be trembling uncontrollably. His sobs echoed in the alleyway. It pained Cynder's heart to see him thus.

"Spyro?" she asked gently as she approached him. He raised his tear-stained face from his paws. But the expression of fear that crossed his face as he met her eyes almost made her stop in her tracks.

"C-Cynder…" the purple dragon whimpered, then suddenly his face hardened and he struggled to his feet.

"Stay away!" Spyro yelled, tears flying from his eyes, "Stay away from me!"

Cynder stopped dead, barely two tail-lengths away. A sob escaped Spyro's mouth and he backed away. But his rump hit the wall behind him and forced him to a stand-still. Looking frantic, Spyro yelled, "Stay away! Just…don't come any closer!"

"Spyro…why?" Cynder asked timidly, taking a step forward, "I'm here to help you, Spyro. It's ok."

"No! No!" Spyro shook his head fearfully, tears flying from his wide open eyes, "Don't come any closer! Get away from me!"

"Spyro…"

"I don't want to hurt you!" Spyro screamed, cutting Cynder off before she could say anything else. She froze, one paw in the air, ready to take another step forward.

"Spyro, you'd never hurt me," Cynder tried to sooth him, "I know that, and so do you. It's ok, I'm here to help."

She took another step forward, and it was at that moment that Spyro snapped. Unable to handle being trapped in the alleyway, the purple dragon gave a shriek of 'I said, stay away!' and ran for the mouth of the alley. Cynder tried to grab him as he ran past, but he slipped through her paws like smoke on the wind and fled the alley.

"Spyro!" the black dragoness yelled, spinning around and taking off after him. She spotted him running towards the large fountain between the library and the hatchery. Dragons leapt out of his way, staring after him in astonishment.

Gritting her teeth, Cynder sprinted after him, unfurling her wings. She flapped several times and leapt into the air, using her wind element to give herself a push from behind. She rocketed up the streets, barely a tail-length above the ground, and caught up with the purple dragon just as he reached the fountain.  
"Spyro!" Cynder shrieked as she dived on him. She fastened her paws around his chest and her momentum carried the both of them over the shallow edge of the fountain and into the clear water with a tremendous splash. Dragons nearby stopped to stare.

The water was barely up to their bellies, but Cynder was having a hard time hanging onto the wet and thrashing purple dragon. She threw herself bodily onto him, flattening him to the marble surface of the fountain beneath the shallow water, ignoring his howls.

"Let go, Cynder!" Spyro cried, frantic to get away, "Let go of me! G-get away from me!"

"No, Spyro! I won't let you go!" Cynder yelled back, her voice catching, her claws straining to get a grip on his water-slicked scales, "I'll never let you go!"

"I'm a monster, Cynder!" the purple dragon sobbed, his tears splashing into the water, "I'm a monster! I don't deserve to be here! Please, just let me go! I-I don't want to hurt you too!"

Cynder felt tears prick at her eyes, "I told you, I'll never let you go. Ever. I'll never let you leave me! I love you!"

Spyro stopped thrashing abruptly. Cynder lay on top of him in the shallow water, her sobs echoing through his body, her tears wetting the already slick scales on the back of his neck.

"How can you?" Spyro whispered, "How can you love me after what I just did? How can you love a monster?"

"Y-you're not a monster!" Cynder argued, "That wasn't you back there! You're Spyro, a kind, gentle, loving dragon who'd never hurt anyone! What happened back there…that wasn't you!"

"How do you know that? How do you know that wasn't me?" Spyro yelled back, craning his head around to look at her, "I was aware of everything I was doing! I wanted to kill him! And-and I didn't stop! I couldn't… I just wanted to hurt him so bad! I-I couldn't control myself! What if it happens again? What if I hurt you?"

"You won't, Spyro!" Cynder insisted, "You'd never hurt me and you know it! It wasn't you that attacked Chasm, it was your darkness; the darkness that was born on in the Well of Souls. You've had it for over four years now! You can control it!"

"Control it?" Spyro sounded incredulous, "I can't control it at all! I almost killed Chasm! You saw it yourself!"

"I saw you spare him!" Cynder snapped, "You could have killed him, but you didn't! You backed away! You stopped yourself from killing him! You _can _control it! I know it's hard, Spyro, but you can!"

"How do you know?" Spyro yelled, struggling out from under her and standing up in the shallow water. Cynder, still sitting, stared up at him. Several dragons had crowded around and were watching.

"How can you know what it's like to be controlled by your own hate? Your own need to kill?" Spyro yelled angrily, "How can you know what it's like?"

"Because I _know_, Spyro!" Cynder screamed, jumping up, "Because it's happened to _me_! Or did you forget?"

Spyro faltered, his anger falling abruptly from his face. Cynder blinked away the tears in her eyes and shook her head angrily.

"Well I _can't_ forget!" she cried, "I can't forget what it was like to be a monster! I can't forget that I killed thousands upon thousands of innocent creatures! Believe me, Spyro, I _know_. I know what it's _like_."

The purple dragon stared at her, his eyes blank for a moment. But then shame entered his expression and he stared at his paws. "I'm sorry, Cynder. I…I didn't think…"

"I understand what you're going through," Cynder sobbed, stepping closer to him, "And I want you to know that what happened today doesn't change my feelings for you. I love you and I always will, no matter what happens. No matter how far the darkness penetrates your soul, you will always be Spyro to me. And I'll know the real Spyro is still in there somewhere. I'll love you forever. Remember that."

She stopped in front of him and for a moment he hesitated. But the next moment he had dropped his gaze and rested his forehead on her crimson chest. Cynder wrapped her wings around him and rested her chin upon the back of his neck. She felt his sobs vibrate through her chest and heard his tears drip into the shallow water of the fountain, which swirled around their legs. They were both drenched from head to tail from their struggle in the fountain, and most of the blood on Spyro had washed off into the water. He felt strangely frail in her wings.

"I love you," Cynder repeated softly, nuzzling his scales gently, "I always will."

For a long time Spyro didn't reply. But eventually Cynder thought she heard him whisper, "I love you, too."

In the bows of the tree, Hunter waited tensely, spear in hand. The leaves brushed his fur uncomfortably, and he knew the slightest of movements would give his position away. Several tense minutes passed and suddenly he heard the sound he had been waiting for. As deadly silent as an assassin's blade, the cheetah dropped from the tree and landed on top of his prey, sinking his spear between its shoulder blades.

The deer dropped with a despairing cry, and Hunter rolled off it as it collapsed in the grass. The cheetah rolled back onto his feet and considered his prize. His spear stuck out of the deer's shoulders, like some triumphant flag, and the creatures dainty legs were splayed out awkwardly where it had fallen. Blood was beginning to wet the fur around the wound.

"Nice strike, Hunter," said Cougar, suddenly appearing out of the bushes from whence the deer had come, "Quick and clean. You're definitely one of the best in this valley. Living up to your name, eh?"

Grinning, Hunter strode over to the fallen deer and wrenched his spear free from the carcass. Blood gushed from the now open wound, drenching the grass beneath the slain creature.

"You're not bad yourself," Hunter commented, wiping his spear on the grass, "You chased it right into the shadow of the tree. It wouldn't have been such a quick kill otherwise."

"Eh, you know," Cougar said, shrugging, bouncing his javelin on his shoulder, "Where's Meadow?"

"Gathering herbs, I assume," Hunter replied, kneeling down to tie the deer's forelegs together with a piece of rope he pulled out of his belt. He moved onto the hind legs, binding the ankles together.

"Here," Cougar said, offering his javelin to the cheetah. Hunter accepted it gratefully and threaded it between the deer's fore and hind legs.

"Give me a hand?" Hunter asked, taking the front of the javelin, avoiding the lethal spearhead. Cougar moved to grab the butt of the javelin, and together they hoisted it up onto their shoulders. The deer hung grotesquely between them, its head dangling limply near the ground. The two cats moved off towards the village, carrying their precious cargo.

"This should feed most of the village," Cougar remarked as they walked, considering their prey, "It's a fine looking specimen."

Hunter only grunted in response. Cougar tore his eyes away from the deer's carcass and glanced at the back of Hunter's head. Though he couldn't see his face, he could tell that something was bothering him.

"Something wrong, Hunter?" the stocky golden cat asked, "You seem pre-occupied."

"It's nothing," Hunter said quickly, then sighed abruptly and elaborated, "It's just, the panthers haven't shown their faces since the battle. I was sure they'd try something soon enough, especially with most of the dragons gone. I don't like how quiet everything has been lately. It feels like they're planning something. We don't even know where they are. They could still be in the valley. I tried to convince Prowlus to let us mount a search for them, but he insists it's too dangerous."

"For once I'd have to agree with the old stiff," Cougar grunted, shifting the javelin on his shoulder slightly, his healing wound twinging, "From what I saw that night, they outnumber us by quite a lot. Any search we mount for them is likely to end in ambush. Nah, it's best we stay well away from them until the dragons send word."

"Or until they attack again," Hunter muttered darkly, "and who knows when that could be. We're sitting ducks, here! We need to do something before they strike first!"

"Like what?" Cougar sighed, "I love a good battle as much as the next, but against a foe that large... Look, Hunter, there's what? Less than one hundred cats in our village? They outnumber us by at least three to one. The only reason we survived that battle was because the dragons were there."

"And because they didn't want to kill us."

"What?"

"Didn't you notice?" Hunter stopped abruptly and turned his head to face Cougar, who had staggered to a stop, "While we were fighting them. They fought well, but they seemed reluctant to kill. That must be half the reason why no one was killed that night."

"But why would they not want to kill us?" Cougar asked, bewildered, "I mean, with their numbers, they could just storm the village and slaughter every last one of us, no problem at all."

"Oh, we'd put up a good fight, I'll tell you that," Hunter replied grimly, "We'd take down at least half their force before they managed to slaughter us all, I'd bet. But you know what I think? I think they want us to submit. They want us to join their tribe, like it was back in the old days, before Feral's mutiny."

"Then why don't they just waltz in here and say so?" Cougar asked incredulously, "Instead of trying to fight us! As long as they're not trying to kill us all, we'd have no problem letting them stay. Wouldn't we?"

"Tell that to Prowlus," Hunter smirked humourlessly, "But I'd say it's because they're too proud. If they come asking for shelter, it'll seem like they're submitting to us, not the other way around. They don't just want to be allowed in; they want to _own_ the valley in their own right. At least, that's what I'd be thinking if I was one of them."

"Huh," Cougar grunted.

Hunter sighed, "I just wish I knew where they've been hiding for the past thousand years."

Any more conversation regarding the panthers was abandoned, however, when they spotted Meadow approaching. The orange-furred cheetah had a reed basket swinging on one paw, filled with a variety of herbs and leaves. He looked approvingly at the deer carried by the other two cats as he fell into step beside them.

"Looks like you did well," Meadow commented with a good-natured grin.

"What did you expect from the best hunter in all of Avalar?" Cougar scoffed, laughing.

Hunter cast him an amused look. "I hope you don't mean yourself."

Cougar pretended to be offended the whole way back to the village, but the trio sobered as they walked over the battle-scarred earth where the fight had taken place only a few days previously. Prowlus met them at the gate to the village. Evidently he had been tensely waiting there for them since they had left.

"I see you're all back in one piece," the chief mentioned dryly as they entered the village. Hunter couldn't help but notice that he looked slightly relieved.

"No rotten panthers are going to stop us from hunting!" Cougar protested, "We'd starve!"

"This should feed most of the village," Hunter said, before Prowlus could make some snippy remark directed at Cougar.

"Good," Prowlus said dismissively, "Take it over there. We'll cook it first. And don't worry about the dragons. They can feed themselves."

Hunter glanced over at a pair of adult dragons, two of the ten who had stayed in the village. They were sharing a deer between them, tearing off great strips of raw, uncooked flesh. Dragons really were formidable-looking creatures, the cheetah thought.

"So I see," he said. Together, he and Cougar carried their deer over to the centre of the village, where several female cheetahs were tending to the campfire. They'd already cooked a few rabbits, which were laid out neatly on beds of leaves.

"Not a bad catch, Captain Hunter," said one of the females, "Put it there, we'll cook it up."

Leaving Cougar to retrieve his javelin, Hunter turned to find the chief again. Prowlus kept staring anxiously out over the meadow, as though waiting for something. Hunter knew his chief was just as worried as he was about the lingering threat of the panthers.

"We could do something, you know," the golden-furred cheetah said as he approached his chief, "Attack them before they attack us."

"And how do you expect to win, Hunter?" Prowlus asked coldly without looking at him, "They outnumber us greatly. Would you want to risk the lives of your entire tribe? Not everyone is as prepared to die as you are."

Hunter faltered, "I…Forgive me, Prowlus, I just thought that maybe it would be better than sitting here and waiting for them to destroy us."

"You are still young, Hunter," Prowlus sighed, glancing at him, "I know the idea of waiting does not sit well with you. But if we rush into battle, we may well be rushing to our deaths! There must be a way to victory… For once, I am grateful the dragons are our allies. Without them our cause would be hopeless, though it pains me to admit such a thing. We must wait…wait until the time is right; until the time to fight has come."

The chief sighed and held a hand to his head, "And I don't know when that will be."

The other young dragons were already there when Cynder led Spyro into the infirmary. They were crowding in the corridor outside one of the rooms, and looked up expectantly when the pair entered the infirmary. There was an awkward silence for several moments as everyone stared at Spyro. Then, Sparx broke the ice. He flew forwards like an arrow from a bow and wrapped his tiny arms around Spyro's muzzle.

"Spyro! Buddy! I was afraid I'd lost you back there!"

Spyro managed an awkward smile, looking away as Sparx let go of his snout. "I'm…ok. I'm sorry for running off like that."

Sparx shrugged, "Eh, it's ok. You looked like you needed some time to yourself. That was pretty scary though, you know! You went all doom and gloom on us! I thought the Dark Master was back!"

Judging from the dragonfly's tone, he was joking. But his words made Spyro feel worse than ever. He winced and looked away, while everyone around him exchanged nervous glances. Cynder glared at Sparx.

"Ah…guess that was a bit too soon," the dragonfly grimaced, looking a little abashed. Another silence followed.

"Listen, Spyro," Ember said suddenly, "No one blames you for what happened. It wasn't your fault."

The purple dragon looked up, "You…you don't?"

Everyone shook their heads. Spyro felt a rush of gratitude and relief. They didn't blame him; they weren't angry with him. But were they afraid of him?

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Spyro responded at last, sounding ashamed, "I never meant to hurt anyone. I just…"

"It's not your fault," Flame grunted abruptly, cutting him off, "I've seen you like that before, you know. It's like there's some sort of creature inside you that only escapes when you're angry enough. If it's anyone's fault, it's Chasm's. He's the one who set you off. I think all of us wanted a piece of him at that moment. You just got there first."

"I could have killed him…" Spyro mumbled, looking at his feet.

"You didn't. And, like we said, it's not your fault!" Saffron insisted, "Just…try not to do it again. It was kind of terrifying."

Spyro was about to apologise yet again, when the door they had been crowding around suddenly opened and Terrador stepped into their midst. He shut the door behind him with his tail, but not before Spyro caught a glimpse of what was in there. A dragon lay on a bad of cushions, swathed in so many bandages one could hardly even see what colour he was. But then the door snapped shut and Spyro found himself looking at Terrador's stocky leg. He raised his gaze to the guardian's stern face.

"I-is he…?" Spyro asked timidly.

"He'll live," Terrador responded gruffly, "But he'll carry those scars for the rest of his days. One of his legs is severely injured. He'll have a limp from now on, I assume."

Spyro was both relieved and aghast at this news. Relieved that Chasm was still alive, and aghast that he had inflicted such serious injuries upon him. He would never walk properly again, and it was Spyro's fault entirely. The purple dragon looked away, burning with shame.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, barely audible.

"You have no reason to apologise," the earth guardian rumbled, "what occurred in the courtyard was not your fault. You have been corrupted by convexity, a dark element that no dragon should ever be forced to control. What happened on the Night of Eternal Darkness should never have occurred, but it did, and now you are suffering the consequences. It has happened before, Spyro, and it may happen again. But it is not your fault, Spyro. I never will be. We cannot expect you to control such a dark force."

"But what can I do to stop it?" Spyro asked suddenly, gazing into Terrador's deep green eyes, "I don't want to be controlled by anger and hate! I don't ever again want to hurt anyone the way I did today! What can I do?"

The earth guardian shook his head gravely, "I am afraid I do not know. Perhaps there is a cure, but more than likely it is up to your own will to control it. It is your strong will that has stopped you from becoming entirely corrupted thus far, Spyro, I am certain of that. You will get through this. But perhaps it would be best to postpone your journey for a few days, to allow your body and mind to recover from what occurred today."

Spyro looked down and said no more.

Zephira looked up timidly at Terrador and asked, "So, Chasm's ok?"

"As I said, he will live," the great green dragon said gently, "But, if I may ask, what prompted young Spyro to attack him?"

Everyone looked at Cynder, who blushed and stammered, "Well, you see, he's been bothering me for a while now. Spyro's lost his temper with him before – we all have – I guess today he just…snapped."

"Why did you not come to me when he started bothering you?" Terrador asked sternly.

Cynder blushed, "I-I...I thought I could handle him myself."

Terrador considered her for a moment, "I see. Well, let us hope that young Chasm has learned his lesson, as harsh a lesson as it was. Perhaps he'll think twice before trying to woo any more unwilling dragonesses."

The earth guardian gave Cynder a meaningful look, as though to tell her he had understood what she meant by 'bothering'. Cynder smiled sheepishly.

"Off you go now," Terrador said, ushering the young dragons towards the exit, "Take a few days to prepare and recover, and then you may begin your journey. I'm sure the Chronicler can wait an extra few days."

The young dragons left, bidding farewell to Terrador, and taking a very quiet Spyro with them. Inside the room in the infirmary, Chasm lay upon his bed of cushions, swathed in bandages from head to tail, half conscious. Through a haze of pain he could only think of one thing: revenge on the dragon who had crippled him.

It was a rough night for Spyro that night. In his nightmares he saw himself attacking Chasm over and over, with only one small difference. Every time, he killed him. Eventually, sick of waking in a panic every half hour, he had stumbled to Cynder's room and curled up with her. Somehow the nightmares couldn't touch him when she was close.

It was three days before Spyro decided it was time to head out. Chasm was still in the infirmary, but now the purple dragon no longer felt like a nervous wreck. Near dusk, he called his friends to him at the western courtyard and told them they would be leaving at dawn the next morning. No one objected.

At midnight, the light of the celestial moons found Orpheus sitting on top of a building near Spyro's room. He always kept close to the purple dragon, just in case, however he hadn't seen the meeting that Spyro had held in the courtyard that afternoon. What worried him most was that the purple dragon and his friends had yet to depart Warfang. If they, more specifically Spyro, were still here when Skulk and Skelos arrived, there could be hell to pay.

Orpheus was worrying about this as he watched the stars, when suddenly he felt the tracking crystal in his pocket begin to crackle and vibrate. Hurriedly, he fumbled to get the dark gem out of his pocket and held it in the palm of his hand. Skelos – or was it Skulk? – suddenly appeared above the crystal, the projection crackling as it stabilised.

"M-Master…" Orpheus stammered, shocked. He hadn't expected them to contact him.

"It's Skulk," the panther in the projection snapped, "We're about three days from Warfang. We have contacted Silt and he is on his way to meet us. Has anything changed in the dragon city since you contacted us last?"

"N-no," Orpheus stuttered, before adding, "but the purple dragon is still in the city!"

"What?" Skulk didn't sound at all pleased, "You assured us he was leaving three days ago!"

"Forgive me, master Skulk!" Orpheus yelped, suddenly afraid, "But there was an incident, and the purple dragon was forced to delay his departure. H-he should be leaving any day now."

"You had better be right about that," Skulk snarled, and Orpheus knew it was no empty threat, "If the purple dragon is still there when we attack, he may cause serious damage! The sooner he is isolated from the rest of the dragon population, the better! With any luck, these dragons will prove to be pushovers, and we can deal with the purple dragon alone. He shouldn't be too much trouble on his own…he's only young, according to what you have told us."

"Y-yes, master Skulk."

"We'll be there in three days, perhaps less," Skulk said carelessly, "If the purple dragon is not out of the city within three days, you are to contact us and let us know! I will not have your incompetence ruining our plan!"

"Yes, Master Skulk," Orpheus said again, almost automatically.

"Good. Three days, Orpheus. Remember that."

And then the projection crackled and was gone. Orpheus stared at the crystal in his paw, feeling stunned. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. Skulk always had been the harsher of the twins. Many of the younger panthers feared him.

"You had better leave soon, purple dragon," Orpheus sighed, glancing towards the building where Spyro's room was, "Or Skulk might take his anger out on me."

With that worrisome thought in mind, Orpheus clambered down to the streets below and set off in search of Erebos and the rest of the assassins scattered around the city.

Spyro shivered in the cold wind. The stone wall was cold and rough beneath his paws. It was just past dawn, but he wanted to leave as quickly as possible, before something else could stop him from doing so for a second time. One by one, his friends joined him. Soon they were waiting only for Cynder and the guardians. Minutes later, the black dragoness soared into view.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said quickly, landing gracefully on the wall beside Spyro, "Are we ready?"

She was sporting a small deer-skin pouch tied around her upper thigh on her left foreleg. Ember looked at it suspiciously, but Cynder avoided her gaze. The pink dragoness had a feeling she knew what was in that pouch and made a mental note to talk to Cynder about it later.

"We're just waiting for-," Spyro began, only to be interrupted as the guardians soared over to join them on the battlements.

"All prepared, Spyro?" Volteer asked eagerly, his tail vibrating as usual.

"Y-yes, I think so," the purple dragon said with a slightly strained smile.

Thasos was scrutinising Spyro's companions. He hesitated when he looked at Kazan, and seemed to be battling the urge to say something. At last it seemed he couldn't resist any longer and blurted out, "Are you sure about this, Kazan? I mean, I've only just started teaching you how to handle your condition. Perhaps it would be best if you remained here…"

"I'm not staying here while all of my friends are heading out there," Kazan growled swiftly, looking irritated, "I want to help them! And I'm not weak! I've managed with this condition all my life, I think I can handle myself out there! Just because we suddenly know what it is that's different about me, doesn't change how it affects me! I can teach myself! I have been since I was a hatchling, haven't I?"

"Y-yes, I suppose so," Thasos stammered, looking anxious, "But you may encounter danger on this quest and, well…"

"I've faced danger before," Kazan argued, "I can handle myself. I proved that at the battle with the panthers before, didn't I? You can't hold me back, Thasos. I'm going, whether you want me to or not."

"Very well, very well," Thasos sighed, "I was merely voicing a concern. Flame, do keep an eye on him, won't you?"

Flame smirked grimly, "I won't let him out of my sight."

"I don't need you to treat me like a hatchling," Kazan snapped, but Flame brushed him off dismissively. Saffron was watching with amusement, to Kazan's great embarrassment.

"It does worry me to be sending out dragons so young on such an important quest," Thasos said anxiously, looking them all over.

"They will be fine," Terrador said suddenly, before any of them could argue, "They are not so young anymore. In another few years, they will have grown into fine adult dragons. They are not the hatchlings they once were. I think it's time we let them go."

Spyro smiled gratefully at the earth guardian.

"Stick together," added Cyril, "goodness knows we don't need one of you getting lost out there."

"Don't dally too long in any place!" Volteer added, quivering with excitement for the young dragons, "Otherwise your enemies may find you! And watch out for those panthers!"

"Indeed, if you should come across the panthers, do not fight them." Terrador said gravely, "They are too dangerous. Avoid them at all costs. Your mission is to find the Chronicler, not attack the panthers. I hope you understand that."

He looked sternly at Flame and Kazan as he said this. Perhaps he knew that they were most likely to ignore his words. The two young fire dragons looked innocently back at him, but he knew they were far from innocent.

"I guess it's time then." Spyro turned towards the horizon and spread his wings.

"I can't believe we're going to that creepy old place again," Sparx groaned, holding a hand to his head, "Prophecies of doom, here I come."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad, Sparx," Cynder smiled slyly, "Besides, you have all of us to protect you."

An unimpressed Sparx looked back at her, "Goodie."

"May the ancestors be with you all," Terrador said solemnly to the young dragons, "and may they return you safely back to us once your task is complete."

Moments later, the rising sun beheld a group of nine dragons take flight from the battlements. The glowing light of a yellow dragonfly led them towards the horizon, leaving the great city of Warfang behind. And, watching from the roof of the Atrium, a lone panther breathed a sigh of relief.

It was a little after midday by the time Spyro realised something was wrong. He halted in mid air abruptly, beating his wings strongly to stay in the air. The dragons who had been following him quickly caught up and hovered around him, confused. Sparx hovered by his brother's horn, scratching his head and looking around in a bemused sort of way.

"Is something wrong, Spyro?" Ember asked after a moment.

The purple dragon blinked and looked back at his confused entourage. There was a sheepish look on his face. "I just realised…I'm not sure where I'm going."

"You what?" Cynder gaped, "How can you not know? We've been flying for hours! I thought you knew the way!"

"Well, so did I," Spyro grinned sheepishly, exchanging a glance with Sparx, "I was just following my instincts. I've been there before. I just thought if I started flying, I'd remember the way. But…well, I've really got no idea where the White Isle is."

"Spyro…" Cynder groaned, "How could you overlook something like this?"

"I'm sorry! I guess I wasn't thinking at the time."

"Listen, can we land and talk about this?" Flame snapped abruptly, looking disgruntled as he forced his wings to keep him aloft, "Only, my wings feel like they're tearing out of their sockets from all this hovering. We're not dragonflies!"

"Speak for yourself!" Sparx pointed out, but Spyro led them all down to the ground anyway.

They had been flying over a wide plain, full of sweeping dried, yellow grass. Spyro had automatically been leading them south, back towards the island of the Dragon Temple. Some part of him always seemed to draw him back that way. The group alighted amongst the dry grass, which reached up to their bellies and tickled their scales as it swayed in the wind. Several pairs of expectant eyes turned to Spyro.

"So, now that you've gotten us lost-," Flame grumbled, but was cut off.

"I'm not lost!" Spyro snapped, his face heating up, "I'm just not sure where I'm going!"

"Well, what are we supposed to do, then?" Saffron asked, pawing at the grass distractedly as it tickled her underbelly, "I thought you knew the way. I wouldn't have come along if I knew you didn't know where you were going. We might as well be chasing grove mites."

"I'm with Saff," Kazan snorted, flopping onto his side lazily. Clearly he didn't think they'd be going anywhere any time soon.

Saffron glanced at him with mild disdain, "I'm shocked. You're actually agreeing with me for once. And since when have you called me Saff?"

"Saffron's right, you know," Zannak cut in, while Ciro nodded in agreement, "we can't exactly just follow our noses, can we? Unless you know where you're going, we might as well head back to Warfang."

"It was a simple mistake! I can figure this out!" Spyro argued hotly, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"I should hope you can," a disgruntled Flame growled, sitting down, "You're the only one who's actually been there! I wouldn't even know where to start."

"That's why we need to give him a chance," Zephira said quietly, startling everyone. She was so quiet; they often forgot she was there. "If anyone can figure out how to get there, it's Spyro. You should stop patronising him."

Spyro smiled gratefully at the wind dragoness, "Right. Thanks Zephira. Everyone, just give me some time and I'll figure out where to go from here."

Though Flame and Kazan grumbled, everyone agreed to leave Spyro to himself while he tried to recall the way to the White Isle. They sat together in a small group, chatting in quiet voices, while Spyro paced through the tall grasses a little way away, frowning and murmuring to himself. Sparx followed Spyro backwards and forwards, cutting in every now and then.

"Last time, the Chronicler summoned us to the Ancient Grove," Spyro mumbled, "And that tree…"

"Which ended up trying to kill us," Sparx added unhelpfully. Spyro ignored him.

"Then we were captured by Scabb and his pirates…" the purple dragon continued, frowning.

"Who ended up trying to kill us," Sparx added again, looking thoughtful.

"I wonder how long we were held captive on their fleet," Spyro asked himself, frowning at his pacing paws, "A week, perhaps? And then we escaped when those Dreadwings attacked the fleet…"

"And tried to kill us," Sparx pointed out, "Man, why does everything we come across try to kill us?"

"Sparx! You're not helping!"

"Right, right, sorry!" The dragonfly held up his hands defensively, "I'm just saying."

Spyro snorted and resumed his pacing, "After that we started flying, looking for a landmark and…"

"You fainted," said Sparx bluntly, "Remember? Well you probably don't, because you were unconscious…but I remember! This freaky turtle thing just rose up out of the ocean and carried you the rest of the way. I wonder whatever happened to that freaky turtle thing?"

Spyro groaned and flopped onto his belly, holding his head in his paws. Sparx hovered anxiously over him.

"What's wrong, Spyro buddy? Got a headache?"

"How am I ever going to find the way to the White Isle?" the purple dragon moaned, "I wasn't even awake for part of it! And who knows how long we were on Scabb's fleet and where it took us? Why didn't I think of this _before_ we left?"

"Come on, Spyro, everyone makes mistakes," Sparx patted one of his horns reassuringly, "At least we're not lost, right?"

"But we've got no way of knowing how to get to the Chronicler!" Spyro groaned, "He could have at least given me a clue of how to get there. What are we supposed to do now?"

"Maybe if you retraced your steps?" said Cynder suddenly, and Spyro looked up quickly.

"Cynder!" he blinked, "Have you been watching me the whole time?"

Cynder smiled apologetically, "You looked a little distressed. Come on, Spyro, don't give up yet. Maybe if we retraced the steps you took last time, you might figure out a way to get there. And even if you were unconscious for the last part of it, Sparx wasn't."

"That's true," Sparx said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Spyro hesitated, "So…we should head towards the Ancient Grove?"

Cynder shrugged, "It's the only lead we've got so far, Spyro. And I, for one, am not about to give up. We'll figure out a way to get there, but not if we stay here forever. Let's get moving and maybe the solution will come to us."

Spyro gave her a strained smile, "Well, if you say so. There's not much else we can do."

He stood up, turning his head to see the rest of his friends were sitting in a circle, talking animatedly. He caught a glimpse of Saffron's face and saw that it was full of laughter. Kazan was watching her with an enraptured look on his face. A fond smile graced Spyro's face and he looked away.

"I want to think for a little while longer," he told Cynder, "maybe I'll come up with something else that can help. Besides, I think it's time for a lunch break. Why don't you go join everyone else? Sparx and I will find us something to eat."

Cynder hesitated, "Are you sure? You don't want me to come with you?"

"It's alright," Spyro smiled reassuringly, "It'll give me some time to think. I'll be back soon. Keep an eye on everyone, won't you?"

The black dragoness replied with a swift smile and a fond lick to his cheek, which caused Spyro's face to blush red. Herding a disgusted Sparx away, he took to the sky to scope out any potential prey hiding amongst the grasses. Cynder turned and rejoined the group, who were busy laughing at a joke Zannak had just said.

"Hey, Cynder," Ember said as the black dragoness approached, "Where's Spyro gone?"

"Hunting," Cynder replied, settling down between Saffron and Ciro, "Apparently we're taking a lunch break while Spyro figures out where to go from here. Sparx went with him."

Flame stretched and yawned, "Well, he'll be awhile. This place is so dry I'll be surprised if he finds any prey at all."

"What should we do to pass the time?" Ember asked, and everyone stopped to consider the question.

"We could play a game," Ciro suggested moments later.

"What sort of game?" Kazan asked sceptically, raising a scaly eyebrow, "I can't think of any that would include all of us."

Before anyone else could think of anything, Zannak piped up brightly, "Tag."

Everyone stared at the electric dragon. Flame snorted, and a curl of smoke rose lazily from his nostrils. "Tag? That's a hatchling's game."

Zannak didn't seem phased by Flame's scorn, "I know, but that doesn't mean we can't play it. Come on, it'll be fun. And all of us can join in. Think of it as a sort of competition. Whoever's the strongest, fastest and cleverest will come out on top. And I know you all love a challenge."

"Sounds good to me," Zephira smiled shyly, "I wouldn't mind."

"Me too," Saffron agreed brightly, winking at her brother, "I haven't played tag since I was a hatchling."

Kazan was already on his feet, "Sounds like the perfect chance to show off my skills! Bring it on!"

"Yeah, if you had any skills," Saffron snickered, and he glared at her.

But even though Cynder, Ember and Ciro all agreed too, Flame still wasn't impressed. The fire dragon looked away and muttered stubbornly, "If you all want to act like immature hatchlings, go ahead. But you can count me out."

"Come on, Flame," Ember wheedled, nudging him, "It'll be fun."

"I'm perfectly fine right here," Flame replied snappishly, turning his head away from her and stubbornly closing his eyes. Clearly he wasn't about to be swayed.

"Fine," Ember sniffed, tossing her head, "Stay here and mope by yourself. We can have fun without you."

Flame glared half-heartedly as she turned her back on him. Everyone had gathered around Zannak, who was just devising the rules for their soon to begin game. Kazan looked excited, which surprised Cynder. He had never struck her as the sort to be interested in games.

"Ok, so the rules are: One dragon is the tagger. He or she chases everyone else and tries to tag someone. When you're tagged, you become the next tagger. The trick is to avoid being tagged for as long as possible. But if you're the tagger, you must tag someone else. Any tagger who fails to tag someone loses the game."

"We already know this," Saffron said impatiently, "We've all played tag before."

"I know, I know," Zannak said quickly, "Now, there's going to be a few extra rules for this game. First of all, flight is off-limits. If you start flying, you're instantly out of the game. Secondly, elements can be used to escape the tagger or to help you tag someone unless there is any chance they can hurt someone. And we don't want to set the grasslands on fire, do we? And no foul play! No biting, no scratching, no using elements to harm someone, and no flying! Got that?"

"Yes, _Dad_," Saffron smirked mockingly, "Now, because it was your idea, you get to be the tagger. Go!"

"Hey wait!" Zannak yelled, "I didn't agree to that!"

But everyone had already scattered, giggling as they fled from the golden electricity dragon. Zannak grinned evilly, waggling his hindquarters as he prepared to spring after his chosen target.

"Well, alright, have it your way!" he called, laughing, "Because I'm coming after you, sis!"

Saffron squealed and fled as her brother tore after her, tearing off grass heads as he ran. She was faster than he was, and kept well ahead of him for several minutes, until she accidently forgot to look where she was going. Zephira yelped as Saffron barrelled into her, knocking the both of them head over tail. They lay giggling in a tangled heap of limbs and wings, until Zannak pounced at them.

"Gotcha!"

"Whoa!" Saffron laughed, rolling out of the way just in time, as Zephira did the same. Zannak landed sprawled between them instead and, by the time he got up again, the two dragonesses had already scampered away.

"Good one, Zannak!" Ciro guffawed mockingly, practically skipping with amusement. The electric dragon promptly changed his target.

"Oh yeah?" Zannak grinned, and shot like a rocket towards his ice dragon friend.

The unexpected attack left Ciro with no time to manoeuvre, and he was bowled over as Zannak pounced on him. The yellow dragon instantly jumped to his feet and laughed, "You're it!"

The blue dragon jumped upright and tore after him, "Get back here, you lousy cheat!"

"How was that cheating?" Zannak laughed back.

Ciro was about to pounce, when he noticed that Kazan was closer. Abruptly changing his target, he managed to strike Kazan's leg with the pad of his paw and roll away before the crimson dragon realised what had happened.

"What? You!" Kazan growled, turning to face Ciro but finding he was gone. Grinning maliciously, the fire dragon realised he was the tagger. And the target closest to him was Cynder.

"Got you!" Kazan yelled triumphantly, running at her.

Cynder turned gracefully, kicking dirt up as she fled, "Not on your life!"

The fire dragon dived for her, paws outstretched to grab her tail, but she skipped out of his reach, flicking her tailblade mockingly. On instinct, Kazan spun around and realised that Zannak, who still thought Ciro was after him, had come unknowingly close. All it took was a swipe from his tail to knock the electric dragon off his feet.

"You're it again!" Kazan called as he cantered away.

Zannak groaned, "Not again!"

As he clambered back to his feet, the yellow dragon took a moment to estimate how close each of his friends was to him and how easy they'd be to tag. His eyes fell on his sister, who had become distracted by Zephira and had her back to him. Grinning mischievously, Zannak crept closer as quietly as he could.

Saffron had noticed that something was a little off with Zephira not long after the game started. The wind dragoness had a far-away look in her misty violet eyes, and seemed to be having trouble keeping her mind on the game. It was as though her attention was held elsewhere, on another plane of existence.

"You ok, Zeph?" Saffron asked, trotting over to the wind dragoness while Ciro chased her brother around.

The white dragoness jumped a little and the misty look in her eyes quickly disappeared. "Oh?" she said, blinking. "Is the game over?"

"No, the boys are chasing each other," Saffron replied airily, "You just seemed like you had something on your mind."

"Oh…yes," Zephira shuffled her paws, looking meek, "I'm just thinking about Spyro. I haven't started teaching him how to use wind yet, and I'm not sure how to start. He always seems so…busy. What if he doesn't have time for me to teach him? Do you think the guardians will be mad? Do you think _Spyro _will be mad if I take up his time?"

"It'll be fine," Saffron said quickly, with conviction, "Spyro won't get mad at you. Why don't you start when we stop for the night? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"But…" Zephira started to say, but never finished. Because, at that moment, Zannak had snuck up behind his sister and jabbed her with his electric-charged tailblade. Saffron yelped as the small stinging jolt crossed her flank, and whirled on her grinning brother.

"Zannak! What have I told you about zapping?"

But the golden dragon had already scampered off with a cry of, "You're it!"

"Excuse me," Saffron said politely to Zephira before pelting after her brother, yelling profanities and threats.

Zephira stared, "Oh dear."

Zannak dashed past a laughing Ciro, his sister hot on his tail, and called out pleadingly for help. Still chuckling, the ice dragon complied and froze over a small section of earth. Not expecting the sudden slippery surface, Saffron lost her footing and slid into a strangely graceful tumble. She jumped up, fuming, and spotted her target.

But Zannak dodged at the last second, and Saffron's pounce carried her into Kazan instead. They tumbled head over tail, into the tall wiry grass. Saffron lay giggling across Kazan's back, while the fire dragon lay pressed against the earth, his face burning. A part of him liked the sensation of her smooth scales pressed against his, while the sound of her high laugh echoed like silver bells.

"Tag," Saffron giggled mockingly in his ear as she rolled off him. For several moments, Kazan was too stunned to move.

"Kazan's in loooooove!" Ciro crowed suddenly. Seconds later he was running for dear life, an angry fire dragon snapping at his tail.

It continued for several minutes, until Cynder, who had been tagged by Ciro, tagged Ember. The pink dragoness had grinned mischievously and gone after the one target that was sure not to run away from her. The sulking Flame got a nasty surprise when Ember pounced on him, flattening him into the dirt.

"You're it!" she giggled, her breath tickling his neck. Blushing, Flame attempted to shrug her off.

"I'm not playing!" he argued, pawing dirt from his snout. Ember skipped around him, tickling the tip of his nose with her heart-shaped tailblade.

"Come on, grumpy! Stop moping and join in!" she insisted. Flame swatted her tail away from his snout.

"I said no!"

"Aww, poor Flamey," Zannak taunted, putting on a mock pout, "He's scared of a wittle hatchling game."

"What's wrong, wittle Flamey?" Kazan added, joining in, "afraid to lose?"

Flame glared a challenge at his fiery rival, "I'll show you who's afraid."

The group scattered like flies as Flame shot towards Kazan in a comet of fire, leaving a scorched trail behind him.

"Don't set the place on fire!" Cynder yelled after them.

Spyro spotted them from afar. They were chasing each other in circles, much to his confusion, and for a moment he thought they were mock battling. But as he flew closer, he saw otherwise. Everyone was now running from Flame, who seemed to be trying to catch one of them. Zephira pulled off a rather impressive back flip over Flame's head to avoid him. Weighed down by several rabbits, the purple dragon trotted over to Ember, who was watching and giggling as Flame chased Kazan in circles.

"You look like you're having fun," Spyro commented, dropping three rabbit carcasses from his jaws.

"While we do all the work!" Sparx added, stuffing a butterfly into his mouth as he said so.

"Spyro! Sparx!" Ember said, surprised, "You're back!"

"We brought lunch," Spyro said, reaching around to pull another three rabbits off his back, "Unfortunately I only managed to catch six. We'll have to share a bit."

"What about Sparx?" Ember asked, glancing at the dragonfly.

But Sparx's mouth was too full of butterflies to respond, and he had several more clutched in his arms. Spyro chuckled, "I think he's set."

Flame and Ciro were having a shouting match when Ember called them over.

"Zannak said no flying! It's the rules!"

"She wasn't flying!" Ciro yelled back, gesturing wildly to his sister, "It was just a flip!"

"As if she could stay in the air that long!"

"She's a _wind_ dragoness, bonehead!"

"Watch who you're insulting, ice-brain!"

"Boys! Lunch!"

Their heads snapped around, argument instantly forgotten. Ember grinned as the two dragons raced each other towards the rabbits that Spyro had piled at his feet. They spared a second or two to praise Spyro for the catch, before diving for the same rabbit. Teeth sunk into either end of the carcass, ice dragon and fire dragon glowered at each other as they commenced a tug of war.

"Barbarians," Saffron muttered to Ember, who just giggled.

"That's disgusting," Cynder muttered under her breath as Flame accidently tore the rabbit's head off and Ciro skipped away with the rest of the carcass.

"We'll have to share anyway," Spyro smiled, choosing his own rabbit, "Want to join me?"

Cynder blushed and nodded. But while they shared their meal without complaint, the rest of the gang snapped and argued over who got which rabbit. Eventually Ciro shared the rest of his rabbit with his sister, while Ember soothed a seething Flame by sharing her rabbit with him. With three rabbits left, Zannak, Saffron and Kazan eagerly dug in.

"Like I've said," Zannak said to the two of them through a mouthful of flesh and fur, "It pays to wait."

But Kazan couldn't help thinking, as he chewed thoughtfully on his rabbit, that he wouldn't mind sharing with Saffron.

At mid afternoon, Spyro told everyone what he had decided. They were to head for the Ancient Grove and start their search from there. The purple dragon hoped that somehow the way would present itself to him, like it had four years ago. Because if it didn't, they could end up well and truly lost.

They buried the remains of their meals and started out again, heading this time towards the ocean and the isle of the Dragon Temple. Spyro knew it was too late for them to reach their destination before nightfall, but nor did he want to spend a night out in the open plains.

As they left the plains, Spyro thought he caught a strange scent on the wind. He glanced back towards the horizon, beyond which Warfang lay, but saw nothing but swaying grass and trees in the distance. Shaking his head, the purple dragon turned away and took to the sky. But as the group soared further away from the dragon city, they were unaware that the scent Spyro had caught was that of the great panther army, marching closer and closer to Warfang.

**A/N: You know, I'm looking forward to next chapter. Are you? :P Ok, no more soul stealing. If I steal your souls you won't be able to read. And that would be bad. I'm back at uni again, which will probably mean annoyingly slow updates. Shame. I was hoping to get more done before I went back.**

**Have I told you I love reviews? Because I really do. Thank you reviewers! But I also love favourites and hits. So thank you everyone who's reading and will continue to do so! You make me happy.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Ahoy, me hearties! I've got another chapter for you! And it's really long again. Sorry about the wait; a pile of assignments fell on my head and crippled me...metaphorically speaking. Enjoy~!  
**

**12.**

Eyes closed, his senses heightened to the air that caressed his scales, Spyro let his essence grow. He could feel the tug and the pull of the wind, not just against his scales but inside his very being, yearning to be released. He felt its alluring whisper in his mind and its cool tendrils on his body. It felt alive.

Inhaling deeply, slowing, Spyro paused for a moment and let it out in a long breath. The winds around him whirled like a frenzied storm, throwing up dirt and grass, slapping against his scales. Then suddenly it died, the air stilled abruptly, and Spyro coughed and staggered.

"Are you ok?" Zephira asked anxiously, "You almost had it that time."

Spyro took a few deep breaths and gave her a strained smile, "I'm fine. I just couldn't hold it. It's just so…wild. So hard to keep control of."

Zephira smiled understandingly, "The wind is like that. It's a free spirit."

It was dusk. The gang had decided to stop in the shelter of the forest for the night before they began the long flight over the sea to the Dragon Temple and the Ancient Grove. Zephira and Spyro had been at it for about an hour now, but the element of wind did not come easily to the purple dragon. It was a little unnerving with everyone watching him, too.

"Come on Spyro, you can do better than that!" Sparx called.

"Do you want to try again?" Zephira asked timidly.

Spyro hesitated and shook his head. "I think we'll call it a night. I don't think I'll get any better tonight. I'm tired. You probably are too."

"Flame should be back soon with food anyway," Ember added, stretching and yawning.

They were crowded in a small clearing littered with pine needles. Flame and Zannak had gone hunting while Zephira and Spyro trained. Everyone else had lounged around watching them, talking lazily. The Celestial Moons were already high in the sky and the sun had long since set.

"O-Ok," Zephira stammered, "We'll try again tomorrow."

Spyro opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment Flame crashed back into the clearing and interrupted everyone.

"Guess who's back with dinner?" the fire dragon crowed proudly.

He and Zannak were carrying a large boar between them, which they dropped loudly in the centre of the clearing before landing. The thud of the boar's body hitting the ground flung up a cloud of dust and pine needles, which made Zephira sneeze. Saffron stared incredulously at the slain creature.

"Where on earth did you find that thing?" she gaped.

"It was sniffing around the forest," Zannak grinned, "We brought it back just for you, little sis. Knew how much you love pigs."

"Ha-ha," Saffron muttered, rolling her eyes. Everyone was getting up to inspect the boar. It wasn't a pretty creature. Its entire body was covered in short, bristly black hairs, and it was as short and squat as a death hound. Two large white tusks curled out and up from beneath its flat snout, grimy with dirt.

"It's a good thing it didn't manage to gore you with those nasty things," Ember pointed out, glaring at the tusks with her snout wrinkled.

"It almost did," Zannak said grinning, "but I saved us."

"Yeah right," Flame snorted, "Who saved who, now? Nimrod here almost got himself gutted. Thought it was a good idea to taunt the beast. At least he provided the distraction I needed to slaughter it."

Saffron nudged her brother playfully, "You never learn do you, numbskull?"

It wasn't long before everyone was feasting on roasted boar, courtesy of Flame and Kazan's fire. Cynder had to admit that, for an ugly creature, it sure didn't taste bad. Flame set the rest of the carcass on fire and they enjoyed its light and warmth for a little while, until it all crumbled into ash. Then, with bellies full of meat and scales warmed from the fire, they fell one by one into slumber.

It was Sparx who heard it first. He had been sleeping on Spyro's head, snoring uproariously, when a strange sound had woken up. The dragonfly sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes and staring into the forest around him. But it was dark and he could see nothing within the closely packed trees. But he could hear something.

It sounded like claws scraping in the undergrowth, just outside the clearing. Sparx hovered into the air, glowing faintly, trying to see through the shadows. There was something moving out there, he was sure of it. And there wasn't just one.

"Spyro," Sparx hissed as loudly as he dared, "Hey. Spyro."

The purple dragon didn't respond. Sparx shivered as a faint chattering sound reached his ears. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.

"Spyro!" he tried again, shaking one of Spyro's horns frantically, "Wake up! There's something out there!"

Spyro grumbled incoherently and shifted in his sleep, turning his head away from Sparx. Seconds later, he started snoring softly again. Chills were creeping down Sparx's back as the chattering sound became louder and more frequent. The sound of scrabbling claws was getting closer. Desperately he flew over to Spyro's muzzle and tapped his nose.

"Spyro! Spyro, wake up! There's something…"

Sparx glanced into the shadows again, but this time he saw something. A pair – no, several pairs – of glowing green eyes. The dragonfly couldn't help the squeal of fear that passed his lips. Spyro woke up suddenly with a snort, and several gasps told Sparx that he had woken up mostly everyone else too.

"What is it?" Spyro hissed.

Cynder's voice drifted through the gloom, "Spyro?"

"What's going on?" Saffron's voice added, sounding annoyed at being woken from her slumber.

"Eeek!" Zephira screeched.

"What is that?" Ciro's stunned voice exclaimed.

"Where?" Ember's voice yelped.

Flame's gruff voice joined in the confusion, "What's happening? Hey – whoa!"

There was a scrabbling sound, a gasp, and Zannak growled, "Oi! I'm here!"

"Quiet!"

Everyone froze as firelight filled the clearing. Kazan stood in the centre of everyone, his crest and tailblade glowing like fireflies in the gloom. He was glaring suspiciously into the surrounding trees. In the light from his glowing crest, the group of confused, worried dragons could be seen. Flame, who had been startled by the glowing green eyes in the shadows, had jumped backwards into Zannak, who was now looking very disgruntled.

"There's something out there," Kazan muttered quietly. Zephira shifted nervously towards her brother.

"I know!" Sparx added, "I woke up and I heard things moving out there. And I saw something – eyes – over there!"

He pointed, and everyone looked. But there were only shadows outside of the pool of light cast by Kazan. Spyro frowned and was about to say something, when a high pitched chattering sound made them all freeze.

"What was that?" Ember squeaked, jumping backwards into Cynder.

"There's definitely something out there," the black dragoness said grimly, her keen eyes picking out movement in the shadows.

"Something tells me we're in trouble," Saffron mumbled, pawing the ground anxiously. Unconsciously she edged closer to the source of light, which just so happened to be Kazan.

Spyro listened closely, hearing the sound of scrabbling claws that Sparx had heard moments ago. He felt prickles of fear creeping up his spine as he hissed, "I think we're surrounded."

A pair of poisonous green eyes peered through the shadows. Ciro yelled when he saw it, and suddenly it was joined by several more. Kazan was the first to recognise them.

"Oh no," he moaned as the chattering started, "not these things."

At that moment, all hell broke loose. The creatures, whatever they were, rushed the group of startled dragons, filling the clearing with their high pitched calls. Spyro fell back as one of the creatures leapt at him. He caught a glimpse of yellowed bone and bright green eyes before he was forced to roll sideways to avoid it.

"Apes!" Spyro yelled, "It's the apes!"

"They're spectres!" Kazan yelled back and a burst of fire lit up the clearing for an instant, "I've seen them before!"

"What do we do?" Saffron yelled, slashing at one of the skeletal beings with her silver claws. It hardly seemed to notice the blow.

"Fire!" Kazan called, "They don't like fire!"

"Got it!" Flame roared, and fire gushed from his jaws in waves. The spectral apes squealed and chattered as several of them were caught in the flames and melted away.

Saffron rolled to the side as one of the creatures tried to take a swipe at her, "Not all of us can use fire, in case you hadn't noticed!"

A burst of flame disintegrated the skeletal ape suddenly, and Saffron found herself staring instead at Kazan. His crest was still glowing, and his golden eyes almost looked like they were shining too. The electric dragoness felt a blush colour her cheeks.

"Thanks," she muttered grudgingly. Kazan grinned roguishly and turned around, charging into a pair of the spectral beasts, his paws on fire.

"Take this, you beasts!" Cynder screeched, slashing her poison-imbued tailblade through the chest of an ape. It shattered like glass upon impact.

"Stick 'em up!" Sparx said to one of them, holding his fists up as though ready to box. The creature took one look at the dragonfly and gave an unearthly screech. Screaming, Sparx shot towards the nearest hiding place – the hollow of a tree.

Back to back, Spyro and Flame poured wave after wave of fire over the skeletal creatures. But they just seemed to keep coming, appearing out of the darkness, poisonous eyes blazing. Ciro was backed up against a tree, freezing any that came near him and head-butting them back into the others. Zannak, on the other hand, seemed to have disregarded his element completely and was smashing the spectral creatures with hefty swings of his paws.

A screech filled the air as Saffron opened her mouth and expelled an electric storm that rippled through several apes at once. They screamed and writhed on the ground, but managed to stagger upright once again, to her dismay. She tried again, several times, but the spectral creatures just kept coming. Zephira noticed her friend's predicament.

"Saffron!" she called, running over to join the yellow dragoness. She opened her jaws and expelled a gust of wind that tossed many of the creatures head over heals to the edge of the clearing. But even more seemed to take their place.

"Look out, Zeph!" Saffron yelled as the creatures leapt for the white dragoness. Zephira gave a cry of shock and covered her head with her wings, preparing to feel the pain of their claws at any second.

Suddenly a wall of rock shot up in front of the wind dragoness, and the leaping creatures crashed straight into it with sickening crunches. There was a loud bang as a ball of earth struck the wall, shattering it into several large pieces of rock that fell and crushed the skeletal apes. Zephira uncovered her head, stunned, as a dark figure landed nimbly in front of her. Whoever it was hardly spared her a glance before he charged the remaining apes, shooting projectiles of rock from his maw.

The earth rumbled and split, throwing many of the creatures off balance. Those that were fleeing from Flame and Spyro's fire stumbled directly into the stranger's path, and were shattered by bullets of stone.

"Keep going!" an unfamiliar male voice called, "You've almost beat them off!"

The dark figure stamped his paw and a line of jagged rock spikes shot from the earth, impaling several of the spectral apes. A wave of fire from Spyro finished the shrieking creatures off. And then, suddenly, it was over. The last of the apes disappeared into the trees, howling mournfully, and left the panting group of dragons in silence.

Kazan was still glowing, but only just. With every pant, the glow on his crest and tailblade flickered like a dying flame. But everyone's gaze was on the dark stranger, standing at the edge of the clearing in the shadows. They could tell just from his build that he was a young male dragon, about their own age. His eyes shone an unnerving green in the light from Kazan's glowing crest.

"Who are you?" Spyro asked, after a moment, "And why did you help us?"

"Because you needed help," said the mysterious dragon, ignoring Spyro's first question, "But the real question is, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"We could ask you the same thing," Flame growled, glaring suspiciously at the stranger.

The dark dragon smiled, "I guess so. But here is not a good place to dawdle at night. We should leave before those creatures come back."

"We're not leaving until you tell us who you are!" Spyro argued, feeling annoyed. It was unnerving being unable to see this dragon, who was hidden half in shadow. How did they know he had good intentions?

The dragon paused for a moment, but when he spoke, he hardly seemed to acknowledge Spyro's statement, "It will be dawn in a few hours. We can talk elsewhere. It isn't safe out here. Follow me."

He turned away.

"I said we're not moving until you tell us who you are!" Spyro yelled again. The dragon paused and looked back.

"Look, I understand your suspicion, but I'm not here to hurt you," he said, sounding exasperated, "I'm just trying to help. I can take you back to my city. We'll be safe there. Then we can chat."

The gang hesitated. At last it was Zephira who stepped forward and said, "I think we should trust him. He did help us, after all. I'm going with him."

"But…" Spyro hesitated. It didn't feel right, running into a strange dragon out here. Where could he have come from and where had he been all this time? It wasn't right. He was reminded, quite unnervingly, of Alta. Judging from the look Flame gave him, the red dragon was thinking the same.

"Let's just go, Spyro," Cynder insisted, "He's right. This place isn't safe. At least let's trust him for now. Until the sun rises."

Spyro sighed, "Alright, fine. We'll do it your way."

The stranger nodded, "Thank you. Now, follow me. It might take a while."

He bounded away into the night, and the gang had to hurry to keep up with him. For a long time he led them through the tightly packed trees of the forest, always one step ahead, as though he knew the way like he knew the back of his own paw. After about an hour of slow loping through the forest, the strange dragon turned sharply into what seemed like a vein of rock in the earth.

Down, down they ran, the earth becoming rockier as they ran. Several times they almost tripped and stumbled, but the mysterious dragon kept ahead of them, nimble as a cat. He kept taking sharp turns and pushing through prickly undergrowth, as though following a path that wasn't there. At last, when the sky was lightening to a steely grey as dawn started to break, he stopped.

The strange dragon turned to wait for his followers, who stumbled to a halt in front of him, panting and puffing. Flame glared at him with unconcealed distrust, but the mysterious dragon didn't seem entirely bothered. In the growing light, they could now see that his scales were smooth black and his underbelly and wings were silvery grey. A pair of thick white horns curved back from his head and kicked upwards. On the end of his swishing tail was a cone-like club of white bone.

"Through here lies my city," said the stranger, "It might come as a bit of a surprise to you. It has remained undiscovered for many years."

His bright green eyes fell on Spyro, roving curiously over his vibrant purple scales. There was a brief flicker of interest and distrust in those green eyes, but it was only for a second. Ember was peering around the black dragon, frowning. He had stopped in front of what looked like a large outcropping of stone, covered by a thick dried clump of weed.

"Er…where is your city, did you say?" the pink dragoness asked.

"Through here," the black dragon said, brushing the weed aside to reveal the mouth of a dark tunnel that led down into the rock.

Flame groaned, "I think I've had enough of underground caverns to last me a lifetime."

The black dragon grinned, "I think you'll be surprised. My name's Roku, by the way."

Spyro stared distrustfully at him, "I'm Spyro. But why are you doing this? You don't even know who we are!"

Roku the black dragon let his eyes wander over Spyro and his friends. His green eyes twinkled with interest. At last he met Spyro's lilac eyes and said, "You do not seem like the minions of the Dark Master. And besides…I'm curious."

Then, with a nod at the purple dragon, he turned and stepped into the dark tunnel. Saffron and Zephira moved to follow him, but Spyro and Flame hesitated. They looked at each other, knowing they were thinking the same thing.

"Look, maybe we should go…" the purple dragon sighed, turning ever so slightly away from the mouth of the tunnel.

Flame shifted uncomfortable, "Yeah, I mean, we've got a job to do..."

The two males turned away together, but Cynder's voice called them back. "He isn't Alta, you know."

Spyro froze at the sound of the name, but Flame sighed heavily and turned back.

"I know that," the fire dragon muttered grudgingly, "but you can't say that this isn't a little familiar…unnervingly familiar…"

"He doesn't seem like a bad dragon," Ember pointed out. Flame glared at her.

"Neither did Alta! And look what happened…"

"You can't mistrust all new dragons just because of one bad experience!" the pink dragoness argued.

Cynder stepped forwards towards Spyro, who was still standing rigidly with his back to her. "Spyro?"

The purple dragon sighed, "Do you think we should trust him?"

Cynder turned her head. Everyone else, with the exception of Flame and Ember, were standing in the mouth of the tunnel, waiting curiously. They had spent the majority of their lives underground, she realised. This tunnel held no fear for them.

"I think we should try," the black dragoness said gently, pressing her muzzle comfortingly against his neck. Spyro nodded hesitantly.

"Ok…ok," he took a deep breath and turned back. Flame stared at him incredulously.

"You're really going to go in there? After what happened with Alta?"

Spyro met his eyes unwaveringly, "He isn't him, Flame. And Ember's right, we can't mistrust him because of that."

"Besides," Spyro added as he followed the others down into the tunnel, "there's nine of us, and only one of him."

Flame snorted, exchanged a glance with Ember, and followed anyway. With a sad smile, the pink dragoness trailed after him.

The pale morning sun shone through a blanket of grey skies to light up the streets of Warfang. Its weak rays crept through an arched window and along the ancient wood of a weathered desk, illuminating the green scales of the thickset dragon sitting at it. Terrador paused for a moment, his quill hovering above the parchment, and reread what he had just written.

_Hunter,_

_I received your message just this morning. It is indeed troubling that the panthers have yet to make another appearance in Avalar. I do not believe they would have moved on so quickly. Nevertheless, I am grateful that for now you and your village are safe and unharmed. Remember, keep on your guard._

_There have been no sightings of panthers here at Warfang, either, but they cannot be far away. Just recently, young Spyro was summoned by a legendary dragon known as the Chronicler. We fear that this summons may somehow be connected to the threat of the panthers. Spyro left Avalar yesterday morning, to seek him out. Cynder, Flame, and several of his friends have accompanied him. Should you see them, let me know as soon as possible._

_I fear for their safety._

_Despite Spyro's absence, life in Warfang is as normal. Our guards are roaming the battlements, waiting for the panthers to show their faces. Our lack of knowledge regarding our enemies troubles the other guardians and I. We will continue to watch and wait._

_Be wary, Hunter, I fear the worst may be yet to come. _

_Give my regards to your chief._

Terrador hesitated before signing his name in elegant cursive writing at the bottom of the page. Then, setting his quill down, he deftly rolled up the parchment and turned towards the falcon perched on his desk. The sleek, handsome bird had been waiting there since it had delivered Hunter's message. Clearly it expected a reply. The earth guardian beckoned it over.

"Take this to your master," Terrador said, slipping the scroll through the leather strap tied to the bird's leg, "Be swift."

With a nod of its regal head, the bright-eyed bird turned and soared out through the window. Terrador limped over to the window to watch as the falcon slowly disappeared into the gloomy sky. An uneasy feeling was stirring deep inside him, but he wasn't entirely sure why. Something would happen soon – something big – he could feel it in his bones.

Shaking his massive head, Terrador turned and strode across his room towards the door. He opened it to find Thasos standing there, his paw raised to knock. The fire guardian smiled sheepishly and lowered his paw to the ground.

"Forgive me, Terrador, I was coming to see if you were awake. Classes start in less than an hour."

"Yes, I know," the earth guardian responded, stepping out of his room and closing the door with his tail, "I was merely replying to Hunter's letter."

"A letter? What did it say?" Thasos asked eagerly, following Terrador down the corridor into the guardians' common room. Cyril and Volteer were there, arguing animatedly about the difference between moles and manweersmalls.

"…always wearing those odd little hats…" Cyril grumbled, waving his paw.

"Oh, so you have never even acquired a diminutive glance of a _mole_ covering one's head?" Volteer interrupted with heavy sarcasm.

Terrador glanced at Thasos, "They've seen no sign of the panthers, either. I fear they are planning something, waiting for the right moment to strike."

Thasos frowned, "That does not bode well. What should we do, Terrador?"

"Wait," the green guardian grunted, "watch, and be ready. It's all we can do for now."

"And those long, hairless tails…" muttered Cyril, "More like mice than moles."

"Do not expend on the truth! I find it most implausible that you would ever catch even a fleeting glimpse of such a rodent!" Volteer snorted.

Terrador beckoned Thasos towards the door, "Come. We'll need a good breakfast if we are to withstand a day of lessons with the young dragons."

Thasos's brown eyes twinkled merrily and he followed Terrador out into the streets.

Orpheus was in trouble. He had been searching for his brother Erebos when he inadvertently found himself in the path of one of the guards that were constantly patrolling both the battlements and the inner perimeter of the city. The swift panther had instantly flattened himself against the nearest building, behind a bush of prickly leaves, dearly hoping his dark coat would hide him in the shadows. Luckily, the guard dragon didn't seem to notice him and continued on his way.

But Orpheus was far from safe. Looking around from his hiding place, the panther noticed that there were dragons everywhere. If he didn't move from this place soon, he'd be spotted for sure. But he'd have to be stealthy if he wanted to get away without being seen. Swallowing nervously, the panther slunk on all fours around the building, keeping behind whatever greenery there was, and slipped into a nearby alleyway.

He lent against the wall, panting, only to dive behind a stack of wooden boxes when a pair of dragons entered the other end of the alley. They strode past his hiding place without sparing it a glance, chatting idly. Heart pounding, Orpheus waited until they were gone before climbing carefully out from behind the boxes. He slunk to the end of the alley and peered out, crouching.

Orpheus hadn't seen his brother or any of the other assassins for over a day now. He wondered where they were – if they had left the city, if they had been captured. He hoped neither was the case.

Looking around, Orpheus noticed no dragons were watching, and carefully crept out of the alley and into a small garden. He spotted a large green dragon watering the flowers with a bucket hanging on the end of his tail. The dragon hadn't seen him, but Orpheus dived for cover anyway, slipping underneath a thick hedge.

With leaves and twigs catching the fur of his back, the panther slithered and crawled all the way along the length of the hedge, trying to get as far away from the gardening dragon as possible. He peered out and saw four green paws walk past, barely an inch away. Holding his breath, Orpheus waited until the paws wandered away before slithering on. His olive green eyes peered out from under the hedge at the street, and he saw he was near the base of the tallest building in the city. He wasn't sure what this building was for, but a place that big had to have somewhere to hide.

Making up his mind, Orpheus waited until he thought it was safe and then slipped out from under the hedge and dashed as quick as lightning towards the building. There were arched windows on the bottom floor, he noticed, and bushes with dark purple leaves planted all around its perimeter. Interested, the young panther hid himself in the oddly-coloured bushes and peered through the small, arched window.

There were dragons in the room, lots of them. Orpheus noticed they were all young dragons, except for the large icy blue dragon, who was speaking. The young dragons were all seated along low wooden benches, with pieces of parchment and pots of ink spread out in front of them. This was a classroom, Orpheus realised with surprise. Interested, the panther listened.

"…was when the council of Warfang was named," the large blue dragon was saying, "Before then, the city was run by nobles whose great wealth exceeded the rest of dragon population. The council of Warfang, which would later become the council of Avalar, was formed by the four guardians of the time, designed to settle disputes and maintain order amongst the citizens of the great city…"

"Sir," said a green dragoness suddenly, raising a yellow wing.

The blue dragon, who Orpheus assumed to be their teacher, looked sternly at the dragoness who had spoken. "Yes, yes, what is it?"

"I was wondering…" she hesitated, "Could you…tell us about the Chronicler?"

The blue dragon froze, "Where did you hear that name?"

The little green dragoness blushed for a moment and replied timidly, "Ciro told me, before he left. He said he was going to see the Chronicler, with Spyro."

Orpheus shifted, suddenly interested, and listened closely for the blue dragon's answer. Who or what was the Chronicler? And what did the purple dragon want with him?

The blue dragon looked around at his class, who were all watching him with sudden interested, and sighed.

"Very well, then," he said, pawing the ground anxiously, "Well, some of you may have heard the name before, but I doubt any of you know of the tales. The Chronicler, so they say, is an ancient dragon whose wisdom is far greater than that of any other living dragon. In fact, some say that the Chronicler is not a living dragon at all, but a celestial spirit who knows all and can see all."

Orpheus frowned, _'A dragon that knows all and can see all. I wonder what the masters would think about that.'_

"Now, the Chronicler is said to reside in a place known as the Celestial Caves," the ice dragon continued, "situated somewhere between our realms and the realm of spirits. No one truly knows where it is or how to get there. In fact, no one had seen nor heard from the Chronicler for a thousand years – that is, until shortly before the Night of Eternal Darkness four years ago, when the purple dragon was summoned in dreams."

"But there have been stories of the Chronicler from long before. It is said that he only appears to those worthy, and only when great darkness has come upon the land. Many have grown to fear his name for this reason, for the re-emergence of this wise dragon often coincided with great decades of war and chaos."

Orpheus couldn't suppress the shudder than ran down his spine at those words. He wasn't sure he liked the sound of this ancient, all-knowing dragon.

"What happened, sir?" the same green dragoness asked, "When Spyro was summoned the first time, I mean. Four years ago."

"Four years ago, the purple dragon was contacted by the Chronicler on a night when Gaul's forces attacked and almost desecrated the already fragile dragon temple," the great ice dragon said darkly, "Shortly afterwards, Spyro left to seek him out. He did not return for three whole years."

Outside, the young panther's eyes widened. No panther had ever heard about what had happened during Malefor's more recent reign of terror. But now it seemed that Orpheus was about to find out.

"During that time, Malefor escaped from the Well of Souls and began his domination over the entire land," The blue dragon looked down, "Without Spyro, our cause seemed hopeless. The land was scarred by his malice, and we did all we could just to protect our great city of Warfang. For three years, our world suffered under the hands of the terrible Dark Master."

"So it's true!" a red dragoness suddenly exclaimed, "The appearance of the Chronicler does foretell doom and chaos!"

The ice dragon looked down at her, "Perhaps. We did indeed enter a darker period of war after his emergence…"

"So what's going to happen now?" the green dragoness asked quietly, and everyone stopped to look at her, "If the Chronicler has summoned Spyro again, what does it mean for us? What does it mean for the world?"

Orpheus gripped the sill of the arched window, wondering the same thing. Were they destined for war? And did this have anything to do with his masters' plan to retake Avalar? Unease was growing inside him.

The blue dragon hesitated for a while, as though reluctant to answer. But at last he looked up and said, "The Chronicler's re-emergence may indeed spell disaster for us, but we cannot be certain. There have been…troublesome happenings as of late, however we must have faith in ourselves. We must have faith in the purple dragon. He has never led us wrong yet. But we shall not turn our backs on a challenge! My ancestors did not, and nor shall I! If chaos will soon be upon us, then I will stand and fight!"

The ice dragon paused, noticing the stunned looks on his students' faces, "Er…that is to say, _if _we are plunged into war. There is no proof that the Chronicler appears only in times of disaster. Let's not be too hasty. Let us hope, at least, that it does not take Spyro three years to return this time, hmm? Now, where was I?"

"But, sir," the green dragoness attempted to interrupt, but the ice dragon shook his head firmly.

"That will do, young dragoness, no more distractions. I have a history lesson to teach. Now then…"

Orpheus slipped away from the window, having heard enough. What he had heard disturbed and worried him. If the purple dragon was indeed seeking out this Chronicler, what could it mean for the panthers? That blue dragon had mentioned war and chaos…but what could bring that about? He stared at the dark pad of his paw, frowning.

'_Could _we_ be the cause of it? If this Chronicler foretells the beginning of war, could it be us who start it?'_

Shuddering, Orpheus hoped that wasn't the case. A war between panthers and dragons was not something he wanted to be caught up in.

'_I just hope the masters know what they're doing.'_

Nalu strode slowly through the halls of the academy. Cyril's history lesson had given her plenty to think about. The green dragoness had indeed spoken to Ciro not long before he left the city with Spyro. She'd been curious about whom the Chronicler was, but now that she knew, she wasn't entirely glad she had asked. Her heart felt heavy with worry.

A part of Nalu had always disliked Ciro. The ice dragon was a joker and a teaser, and he had always pulled pranks on her and picked on her friends. Sure, he wasn't as rambunctious as Zannak, but he sure had his fair share of immaturity. She'd gotten annoyed with him several times, but he'd never let up.

But, at the same time, she couldn't help liking his company. He was funny and kind, and even charming at times. Her friends had never liked him, but they'd never seen the cheerful grins he'd passed her in the street, or heard the off-hand compliments he'd give her every day. No matter how immature and annoying Ciro was, Nalu couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered whenever he smiled at her.

And now that he was away on some quest, with no guarantee that he would return in the next three years – Spyro hadn't last time – Nalu couldn't help but fear for him. She hoped he was safe wherever he was, and that he would return soon. She missed his charming smiles in the street, his flattering comments in the classroom that made her flustered, even his goofy pranks that often left her steaming.

'_Be safe, Ciro. If we _are_ about to enter an age of war…I hope you'll be there beside me.'_

Nalu stepped out into the street as other young dragons rushed out around her, eager to get out of the academy and enjoy the hours of daylight left before dusk. But Nalu was still feeling anxious, and turned to take a stroll in the gardens around the Academy. She was just nearing the rear of the tall building when she saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eye. Startled, the green dragoness snapped her head around to look.

Orpheus had been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't notice someone enter the gardens. He'd been lying on the ground amongst the bushes, hidden, but had decided to find go Erebos and tell him what he'd overheard at the Academy. Without thinking, the young panther stood up in full view of the green dragoness who'd just been walking passed.

She stared, her apricot eyes wide with shock. He stared, stunned into silence. A frozen moment passed, and it seemed as though the wind itself had stopped. Suddenly she screamed, and it was like a knife cutting through the air. Orpheus scarpered.

Nalu didn't stop to see where the black creature had gone. She turned and ran as fast as she could back towards the entrance of the academy, desperate to find one of the guardians. Other students gave her weird looks as she ran pell-mell into the building, pushing others out of her way. Without warning she crashed headlong into something solid and unmoving, and fell back with a yelp.

"Careful!" said a deep, hoarse voice, followed by, "Are you hurt, young dragoness?"

Nalu blinked dazedly and looked up to see the earth guardian Terrador looking down at her. She jumped back to her feet in an instant, eyes wide and fearful.

"Master Terrador, there was a…a creature…in the bushes! It fled! I-I didn't see where it went, I just ran back here as fast as I could to tell someone! I-!"

"Slow down," Terrador interrupted and she froze, panting, "Now, what did you see?"

The green dragoness took several gulps of air before calming down enough to answer, "It was black… It looked like a cheetah, kind of. But with pitch black fur. It was in the bushes just outside the academy. I don't think it meant me to see it. It ran away as soon as I… Master Terrador?"

The earth guardian was staring blankly at her, his green eyes glazed over, a horrified expression on his face. Frightened, Nalu took a step back. No dragon had ever looked at her like that before. She wondered what she had done. But the next second, Terrador had spun around and roared as loud as he could, "SERIPHOS!"

Nalu almost jumped out of her scales. There was a crash from somewhere upstairs, and seconds later a green dragon came racing downstairs looking startled. He skidded to a halt in front of the earth guardian, saluting him with a wing. It was Seriphos, the battle tactics teacher.

"What is it, Master Terrador? Is something wrong?"

"Find the other guardians _immediately_," Terrador ordered swiftly, "Tell them there is a panther loose in the city. Alert the guards and have them mount a search for the creature. It can't have gone far."

Seriphos was stunned, "What?"

"Immediately, Seriphos!" Terrador roared, the sound of his yell making both Nalu and Seriphos jump. The earth dragon captain saluted smartly and raced off without a word, looking more serious than ever.

"M-master Terrador, what's going on?" Nalu asked anxiously, fear causing her heart to race.

"Do not fear, young dragoness," the earth guardian replied, though he sounded grim, "I need you to take me to the place where you saw this creature. Right now. Can you do that?"

Nalu nodded quickly and turned around. With Terrador on her tail, she hurried out the doors of the Academy and skirted around the building towards the place she had seen the panther. She skidded to a halt and pointed with a paw at the wall and the purple-leaved shrubs growing against it.

"It was right there. It looked at me for a second and I screamed, then it ran." Nalu looked anxiously up at the earth guardian, wondering what his reaction would be.

Terrador took one look at the scene and deduced that the panther was no longer there. Out of all the ways the panthers could have shown themselves, the earth guardian would not have picked this. His heart was hammering with worry and exhilaration. There was a panther loose in the city. _In the city._

"Which way did it run?"

Nalu pointed towards the northern wall, "That way."

Terrador nodded, "Good. Thank you for reporting this, young dragon. Nalu, wasn't it? You have been a great help. Now, I suggest you head home and leave this to us."

"But…"

"You have done enough," the earth guardian said sternly, "The creature you saw was a panther. He may be dangerous. We will deal with him. Now, off you go."

"Y-yes…Master Terrador." Nalu gave him one last anxious look and ran off towards home.

Seconds later, the earth guardian was in the air, his deep voice booming throughout the city.

"All dragons, be on the lookout for any black cats in the area! There is a panther loose in the city! There may be more than one! Anyone who has seen anything is to report to Captain Seriphos or the guardians _immediately_! Be on your guard! I repeat; there is a panther loose in the city!"

Orpheus ran like he had never run before. He wasn't sure where he was going, only that he had to find somewhere to hide. There seemed to be dragons around every corner, and they were all searching – searching for him. He tried to keep in the shadows as much as possible, in tiny alleyways and nooks, but he knew he was in trouble.

Suddenly a hand grabbed the back of his tunic and yanked him backwards into an alley, behind a pile of wooden crates. Orpheus almost shouted out, but a paw covered his mouth roughly and a voice hissed in his ear, "Quiet! It's me!"

Orpheus struggled out of his grip and turned to face his brother, "Erebos! Where-?"

But the taller panther cut him off by roughly shoving him up against the wall, "What did you _do_?"

"Wh-what?"

"The entire city is on high alert!" Erebos snarled, shaking his younger brother roughly, "They know we're here! What did you _do_?"

Orpheus gulped, "I-It was an accident! I didn't mean for her to see me, I…!"

Erebos shoved his paw over his brother's mouth again as a dragon cantered past the mouth of the alleyway they were in. It peered into the alley for a moment, saw nothing, and continued on its way. When the dragon was gone, the purple-eyed panther glowered angrily at the trembling Orpheus.

"We'll talk elsewhere. We're not safe here," He yanked Orpheus up roughly, "Follow me."

It wasn't easy navigating through the city when it seemed the entire population was out looking for them. Several times the panthers were almost caught, but Erebos somehow managed to keep them out of sight. Eventually, feeling highly strung and anxious, they wound up in front of a small, dingy shop. It looked abandoned, judging from the boarded up windows and the grimy bricks.

Erebos lead his brother into the dark shop, stepping around empty crates littered all over the floor. He stopped near the back of a shop, grabbed a broken wooden pole that was leaning against the wall, and tapped three times on the dusty roof above him. Suddenly a section of the wooden roof fell open, revealing a trap door and a disgruntled black-furred face. Agra, the oldest of the assassins, glared down at them.

"I see you found him. Come on up, before those dragons find you."

A crudely made rope ladder fell from the trapdoor, and Erebos pushed his brother roughly towards it. Still feeling panicked, Orpheus grabbed the ladder in his trembling paws and hauled himself up. He found himself in a dark and dusty attic, dotted with specs of light from cracks in the wooden roof. He could make out two figures seated in the shadows in the corner. The attic was entirely empty, save for three wooden crates stacked up against the wall.

Was this where everyone had been hiding since they'd come to the city? Orpheus felt a small spark of jealousy. He'd taken to sleeping in the gardens, under bushes or in trees, always worried that he'd be discovered. But they'd been here all along, in their own little house, hidden and sheltered from the dragons.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd been hiding here?" Orpheus asked, looking around the dusty attic. Erebos hauled himself in through the trapdoor and pulled the ladder up after him.

"Tell you?" sneered a female voice from the shadows. Nyx stepped into a shaft of light streaming in from the cracked roof, her yellow eyes glinting with malice.

"This hideout is for assassins only," she snarled, playing with her dagger idly, "And I don't care what the Masters say – you are _not_ an assassin. What did you do? Get yourself _seen_?"

Orpheus faltered, "That…that was an accident! I didn't intend her to see me!"

"An accident?" Nyx shrieked, stepping closer, "We are the _Elite Guard_, we do not have _accidents_! The entire city is out looking for us! Now that they know we're here, the element of surprise is gone! You could have ruined the entire plan! The Masters will be here in little more than a day! We had orders _not to be seen!_"

"It was a mistake!" Orpheus argued, "I made one tiny mistake! That's not going to ruin everything! You can't say that you've never made a mistake!"

Nyx moved as swiftly as lightning. Her dagger flashed in the shaft of light and sheered across Orpheus's cheek, just below his left eye. White hot pain lanced across his face as the steel cut deep into his flesh. A scream of pain tore itself from his throat, and suddenly he found himself on the dusty floor, half-blinded. Blood splattered the floor and rolled down his cheek in rivulets, clumping in his fur. Something sharp was pressed to the vulnerable skin of his neck.

"Do you know why you're here, Orpheus?" Nyx hissed, her voice as cold as ice. She was pinning him to the floor now, her dagger pressed to his throat. "Do you know why the Masters made you an elite?"

Orpheus swallowed nervously, feeling the blade scrape against his throat, blood streaming from the gash below his eye. "Because…because I showed promise. Because the Masters thought I was worthy…"

"You're here," Nyx snarled, pressing her dagger harder against his throat, "because of _him_!"

She jerked her head at Erebos, and Orpheus glanced pleadingly at his brother. But Erebos was pointedly looking away, his eyes fixed on the dusty wooden floor. A drop of Orpheus's blood hit the floor with a hollow _plunk_.

"You're here," Nyx continued viciously, "because your brother is one of the finest assassins the Masters have ever had. You're here because they thought that _you_ might turn out just like him. And you know what? They were _wrong_."

Orpheus felt his face heat up beneath his fur, "Sh-shut up…"

"You don't deserve to be an elite! You don't even deserve to be one of the Masters' soldiers!" her blade was cutting into his skin now, and beads of blood were formed along its edge, "You're a weak cub, Orpheus, a disgrace to the name of the Elite Guard, to the name of your brother, to what it means to be a panther! I knew you weren't assassin material from the start. Soon enough the Masters will realise it too!"

Orpheus swallowed. He could feel tears welling in his left eye as his bleeding cheek burned like fire. Nyx's yellow eyes burned into his own, sick and deadly. She was going to kill him.

"That will do, Nyx," said Agra calmly. In the shaft of light from the roof his greying fur looked even paler, as though he had aged several years in an instant. "Let him go."

Nyx snarled viciously, but withdrew her dagger anyway. Her paw plunged in Orpheus's tunic and yanked out the tracking gem he'd carried in his pocket. Orpheus made a sharp movement as though to snatch it back, but thought better of it. Nyx bared her white fangs at him as she held up the dark crystal.

"You don't deserve to contact the Masters. I'll be keeping this from now on."

With a rough shove that pushed Orpheus onto his back, Nyx released him and stood up. She spat on the floor next to him and spun on her heel, striding back into the shadowy corner to sit with Steel, who had watched the whole thing with a satisfied, sadistic grin on his face. Agra considered Orpheus for a moment, before he too turned and walked away.

It took a while for Orpheus to recover. He lay on his back for a long time, dust clinging to his fur, blood drying on his cheek. Eventually he heard someone approach, their pawsteps muted by the dusted floorboards.

"Stop grovelling on the ground and get up," Erebos muttered scornfully. Slowly, Orpheus pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Why didn't you stop her?" he asked bitterly, looking up at his brother. Erebos's deep purple eyes burned angrily.

"_Why_? Why should I have?" he snarled, kicking dust up angrily.

"Because you're my brother!" Orpheus exclaimed, sounding wounded and betrayed, "My flesh and blood!"  
"_I_ am an elite!" Erebos growled, grabbing his younger brother by the neck of his tunic and hauling him up, "And you know, being related to you only gives me a bad name! I've tried my hardest to become one of the Masters' best assassins, to make them proud to call me an Elite Guard! And now you come along and ruin that! They all expected you to be like me, but you've only proven yourself to be a burden! I've got a reputation to uphold, and every time you do something wrong it comes back to me! You're a disgrace of a brother!"

Stunned, Orpheus could only stare at his brother. He didn't know what to say, how to respond, so he said nothing. Erebos released him roughly, glaring.

"Grow up and stop acting like a cub," he snarled, "or I'll no longer call you my brother. Maybe Nyx was right. You're not cut out to be an assassin. So shape up or get out! I'm not cleaning up after you…"

With a last bitter look at his brother, Erebos turned and went to join the other three in the far corner of the attic. Orpheus was left alone under a tiny shaft of light, dried blood on his face and a look of utter shame in his olive green eyes. He looked up through the crack in the ceiling and saw only grey sky choked with clouds.

His feelings in a tangle of shame and resentment, the young panther sat down heavily, hugging his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his arms. In silence he sat for a long time, salty tears matting his fur.

Roku was waiting for them near the end of the tunnel, his green eyes piercing through the gloom. The black dragon was almost invisible in the darkness, had it not been for his pale silver wings and underbelly. He looked scrutinisingly at Spyro and the others as they join him.

"I was wondering whether you'd decided to turn away," Roku said with a small smile, "Come on; it's just around this bend."

He turned and disappeared around the corner, the club on the end of his tail bobbing behind him. Spyro glanced at the others, shrugged, and followed. What met him around the bend was nothing less than extraordinary. Beside him, Sparx's jaw almost hit the ground.

"Whoa…what the-?"

Spyro drew breath in through his teeth in a short, sharp gasp. An entire city was laid out before him. And, the strange thing was, half of it seemed to be upside down. Domed and cone-shaped buildings and temples seemed to grow from the roof and the ceiling simultaneously, like giant stalagmites and stalactites. They were built from a rich, gold rock, much like that at Warfang, and carved with the utmost precision. The ceiling was entirely stone, as though they had wandered into a massive cavern. Which, Spyro reminded himself, they had.

"Welcome to Ethra," Roku said beside him, in a proud sort of voice.

A pale light washed through the entire city of stone, to Spyro's great confusion. How could there be light underground? He considered asking the black dragon, but what came out instead was just an awed, "You live here?"

Roku nodded, "All my life. I think you'll find this place a little surprising. But it wasn't always this way…"

"What do you mean by that?" Sparx asked suspiciously, folding his arms.

Roku began his way down the rocky path that led to the heart of the city, saying over his shoulder, "You'll see."

The group followed him, unable to tear their eyes away from the strange city of stone and the temples and buildings that clung to the roof. The place seemed deserted, though it was barely dawn, which meant the inhabitants could still be sleeping.

"It's sort of beautiful, really," Ember murmured to Flame, "A little eerie, but beautiful."

Flame grunted, "The sooner we're above ground, the better."

Saffron kept turning this way and that, as though searching for something. Zannak nudged her, "Why so fidgety, sis?"

Ignoring him, the yellow dragon asked aloud, "Where's the light coming from?"

Up front, Roku heard the question and called back, "I can show you later, if you'd like. But first I think it's best that we all go and see the Master."

"Who?" Spyro asked. He looked away from the domed stone house he'd been staring at to glance at the black dragon.

"You'll see."

"I wish he'd stop saying that," Sparx mumbled under his breath.

"Where is everyone?" Cynder asked moments later, her piercing eyes peering at every house and building they passed by. It was eerily quiet.

"Sleeping," Roku said shortly.

"You know, we haven't even told you our names," Kazan pointed out from the back of the group. Roku glanced back at him.

"There'll be time for that when we see the Master," he replied. Moments later, he frowned and stopped, one paw raised in the air. He seemed to be listening hard.

"What is it?" Spyro asked. Roku shook his head with a smile.

"What is he doing up again…" the black dragon said, more to himself than anyone else. Sparx gave Spyro a glance that said _'he's crazy, right?'_

But, moments later, everyone else heard it too. It was the sound of someone yelling in effort, followed by what sounded like a gust of strong wind and the dull thud of something hitting the ground. Roku cantered towards the sound and disappeared around the side of an oddly cone-shaped building. Everyone else followed.

They found themselves at the edge of a round courtyard that reminded Spyro of the dojo back at the old Dragon Temple. What's more, several straw dummies were littered across the stone ground, mostly intact. A small black and white dragon stood in the middle of them, panting. He looked about ten years old, and Spyro couldn't decide whether he was black with white splotches, or white with black splotches.

"Domino!" Roku said as he approached the small dragon, "What are you doing up so early?"

The splotchy dragon almost fell over with shock, but recovered quickly and spun around to face the larger black dragon. His green eyes were challenging, but exhausted.

"Training," the young dragon said in a high, childish voice, "like you do! I want to be a great fighter like you are!"

"Well you're not going to get any better if you don't get any sleep," Roku chided fondly. He glanced around at the dummies lying around the courtyard, "Why don't you show me what you've been practicing?"

But the little black and white dragon was no longer looking at Roku. He was staring wide-eyed straight at Spyro. For a moment it looked like he'd been turned to stone. Then, seconds later, an expression of the utmost disbelieving excitement crossed his childish face.

"You're a _purple _dragon!" he whirled on the older black dragon, "Roku! There's a purple dragon in the city! There! See? A _purple_ dragon!"

"I know, Domino," Roku extended a wing over the small dragon, stopping him from bouncing up and down excitedly, "I brought him here. He and his friends ran into a little trouble outside."

"Did you rescue them, big bro? Did you, did you? You're _so_ brave!" the splotchy dragonling crowed happily, gazing up at Roku with adoring eyes.

"I helped," Roku said modestly, "We're going to see the Master. Why don't you come with us and we can all get acquainted with the purple dragon and his friends?"

The little dragon's eyes went so big they looked like saucers, "_Can_ I?"

At Roku's nod, he gave a shrill cry of excitement and scampered away calling, "Follow me, everyone! The Master's this way!"

Spyro stared blankly after him. Roku beckoned for them to follow, and the purple dragon fell into step beside him.

"My younger brother," the black dragon murmured to Spyro, "Domino. He's very enthusiastic."

Ember and Cynder were in quiet conversation with each other. The black dragoness lowered her voice and murmured, "Who do you suppose this 'Master' is?"

"I don't know," the pink dragoness whispered back, "but he must be very important. Maybe he's like a guardian, like Terrador and the others."

Cynder grimaced, "Well I hope he's friendly, whoever he is."

It took them several minutes to reach their destination, which was a large temple near the centre of the city. It wasn't as large as the Dragon Temple, but as big as the Atrium back at Warfang, if not larger. By the time they got there, little Domino was bouncing up and down in front of the huge cedar doors.

"Come on, come on!" he crowed impatiently as they approached.

"Patience," Roku said sternly, setting his shoulder against the left door. He pushed with all his might and it creaked open silently, revealing an interior of stone. The black dragon beckoned the others inside and followed in behind them.

It was dim lit in the temple, with small torches burning in bracket on the walls. There were three doors, each closed with a golden insignia in the centre. While Spyro and his friends were gazing around curiously, Roku approached the door straight ahead, Domino bouncing at his side. Quieting his little brother, the black dragon tapped the clubbed end of his tail on the polished wood of the door three times. A brief silence followed.

The doors creaked open inwards minutes later, revealing a shadowy figure beyond. Spyro blinked and squinted, trying to make it out in the dim light.

"Who's disturbing me so early in the morning?" asked a disgruntled, feminine voice. The figure stepped forward and into the light. Spyro couldn't stifle a gasp.

The Master was a massive dragoness with deep navy blue scales and rather mischievous yellow-green eyes. Her underbelly and wings were a slightly paler blue, and her wings were tipped with curved black barbs. Two black horns struck almost straight upright, with the slightest angle backwards. A third, smaller horn, stood upright on her forehead. But what was most breathtaking about this elegant dragoness was the set of brilliant gold armour that adorned her body. A huge domed sapphire was set in the centre of her chest plate.

"Judging from your armour, you were already awake, Master," Roku replied, rather bravely in Spyro's opinion. This massive navy dragoness was more than a little intimidating.

But she gave a loud laugh, reminiscent of the chiming of brass bells, and replied, "At the crack of dawn, as always. What can I…?"

She stopped, suddenly noticing Spyro and his friends. Her greenish eyes widened ever so slightly and she glanced back to Roku, "Do we have guests, Roku?"

The black dragon nodded, "It's why I came to see you, Master. I figured you would want to know. I came across them in the forest on the surface. They were being attacked by spectres. I helped them fight the beasts off, and brought them here."

"Indeed," the navy dragoness turned her eyes on Spyro again, "and what were they doing alone in the forest at night?"

Feeling challenged, Spyro opened his mouth to angrily respond, but the massive dragoness cut him off with a raised wing. He faltered.

"Now, now," she said, noticing his disgruntled expression, "there'll be time for explanations later. Why don't we introduce ourselves first? Welcome to the underground city of Ethra. I never thought I'd ever meet you, little purple one."

"My name is Spyro," he replied quickly, "This is my brother, Sparx. I grew up with him."

Sparx raised a hand, looking a little intimidated by the large dragoness, and uttered a small, "Hi."

The dragoness nodded sagely, "I see. Well, you may know me as Selador. Or, as the citizens of this city call me, Master Selador. It seems you have already met Roku and his little brother Domino. And what about all of you?"

One by one, everyone introduced themselves to Roku, Domino and Selador. When they finally came to Cynder, Selador almost did a double take. She stared hard at the black dragoness for a long time in which no one spoke. Cynder shifted anxiously, feeling as though her very soul was being searched. Selador's yellow-green eyes were piercing.

"I only heard stories about the legendary Terror of the Skies," Selador said at last, "But disturbing stories they were. And yet you, young dragoness, seem nothing like the Cynder from those tales. Only your colour and name are the same. Could they be coincidences, or is there something more to you than I realise?"

Cynder swallowed and looked away, "I'm…not proud of the things I've done. I'm not the Cynder I used to be, but I don't deny who I once was…"

"That wasn't her fault," Spyro cut in suddenly, "she wasn't the one who did all those horrible things. It was Malefor. It was all Malefor."

Selador turned her piercing eyes on him, "You speak his name. Strange. Back in the days before the raid on the Dragon Temple, most referred to him only as the Dark Master. Perhaps we feared that if we remembered his name, he would return. What do you know of Malefor, young Spyro?"

"More than you realise," Spyro replied darkly, meeting her piercing gaze with his own, "and what do you know about the Dragon Temple?"

Selador looked taken aback, "Why, everything! Up until the raid, that is. After all, it was once my home!"

Spyro's eyes snapped wide with surprise, "What! You mean you lived there?"

"I did," Selador gave a wistful smile, "I knew you when you were just an egg, Spyro. You were our greatest hope… but the raid on the temple ruined everything…"

"Tell me what you know!" Spyro pleaded, "What happened to you on the night of the raid? What have you been doing all this time?"

"Patience, little purple one," Selador soothed, "I will tell you, but only if you agree to tell me your tale. I know you have one to tell. After all, many believed you were lost on the night of the raid. And yet here you are, standing before me like a returning hero. Yes, you have a tale to tell. But first, let us hear mine…"

The navy dragoness stepped aside, clearing the doorway, "Why don't you come in and make yourselves comfortable? I think we may be here for a while."

With words of thanks, Spyro and the others entered the room and found themselves in what seemed to be Selador's private chambers. There was a large bed of cushions in one corner, and a massive stone basin against the left wall. Spyro supposed it was filled with water whenever she wanted a bath. Stone shelves had been carved into the far wall, filled with rows of dusty books and volumes. Extra cushions were stacked away in a wooden cabinet beside the shelves.

"Take a cushion each," Selador invited, spreading a blue wing towards the cabinet and her bed, "There's more than enough."

Roku and Domino hesitated at the door, while everyone else rushed to get a cushion. Selador beckoned them in, and the door creaked shut by itself.

"Come on, boys. You can join us," Selador winked at the brothers. Roku nodded respectfully, while Domino bounced up and down eagerly.

The black dragon grabbed a red cushion and dragged it over to sit with the others, who had seated themselves in a semi circle around Selador. An excited Domino tripped over his own paws as he dragged a yellow cushion over. Once everyone was seated and quiet, Selador began her tale. She had a strangely melodious voice.

"As a young dragon, I attended the Dragon Temple academy with others of my age. Those were peaceful days, even with the rising threat of the apes. By the time I graduated, the Earth Guardian Gaius had already chosen his apprentice – a young dragon by the name of Terrador. Not that I would have been chosen…it is a long running tradition that only males should become guardians."

"Wait," Spyro interrupted, "You're an earth dragon? Did you _know_ Terrador?"

Selador looked surprised, "Of course. Terrador was several years my senior, but we crossed paths in the academy every now and then. He was a kind soul, if not a little too serious. You sound like you know him, Spyro."

"I do," the purple dragon said, nodding, "he's the Earth Guardian. He's at Warfang now with the other guardians."

"Indeed?" Selador's eyes widened slightly, "Warfang still stands? I'll hear your story soon enough, I suppose…"

She paused for a moment and continued, "The Earth Guardian gave Terrador a student of his own during his guardian training, to test him. Young Seriphos was a little more than a test, though…"

Suddenly it clicked in Spyro mind and he almost slapped himself for not realising sooner. "It's you! Seriphos's other mentor! He mentioned you when we first met him! He…he said you were killed on the night of the raid."

Selador paused, her eyes misted over, "Seriphos is alive?"

"He's at Warfang now."

A smile crossed the navy dragoness's face, "I am glad. Yes, after Terrador left for Warfang to complete his guardian training, he left Seriphos to me. We were very close, Seriphos and I. He was quite a pawful, but I managed. We were together for many years, training. However, soon the Dragon Temple Academy was shut down. The world was becoming a very dangerous place, and only Warfang was deemed safe enough for young dragons to be trained."

"Seriphos and I joined the patrol around the Dragon Temple, led by a fire dragon known as Thasos, and lived off the land for many years. Then the year of the dragon came around and eggs were sent to the Dragon Temple, as was tradition. We knew it was up to us to protect the temple, while the guardians within protected those precious eggs. News spread of a purple egg…"

Selador glanced at Spyro briefly before continuing, "We thought we would be ready for anything. But the raid that night caught all of us off guard. The apes surrounded us from every direction, even from the sky, riding on those hideous Dreadwing beasts. Seriphos was still young, and terrified. We knew we couldn't fight them all off, so we retreated to the temple, determined at least to protect the eggs. But we failed."

"The apes overwhelmed us with their superior numbers, and fire ravaged the temple. The entire forest was burning. In desperation, Thasos raced inside to help the guardians. He escape with only two eggs and the horrible news that the rest were being smashed and the guardians were down. We entered the burning temple to help, but there was little we could do. We tried to drive the apes out, but there were so many…and then he appeared."

"A great ape, larger than any I had ever seen, holding a sceptre that glowed with evil magic. His power was too great, and there were too many apes for us to fight. We fled, unable to battle them. All I remember is screams, fire, and darkness, swirling around us in a vortex of terror. I knew I had to protect Seriphos, whatever the cost. I told him to run, to stay close to Thasos. Then I turned and faced the apes. Alone."

Selador broke off and looked away. She was silent for a long time, and Spyro could tell she was remembering what had happened that awful night. A part of him was glad he had just been an egg when it had happened, and that Ignitus had rescued him.

"The apes left me for dead," Selador continued after a moment, "and the guardians too. They had what they wanted…though at the moment I wasn't sure what that was."

Spyro glanced sideways at Cynder. The black dragoness was looking at her paws, her green eyes unreadable. Yes, the apes had gotten what they wanted, and Cynder had suffered for it.

"When I awoke, I was alone," the navy dragoness murmured, "The fires had gone out and ash settled on the ground. Thasos and the others were nowhere to be found. All of the eggs were smashed, and I believed the purple egg to have shared the same fate. The guardians were gone; I wasn't sure where. I had no idea what had happened to Seriphos and to Thasos. I wasn't sure what to do or where to go. But I knew I had to let someone know what had happened to the temple."

Selador closed her eyes, as though the memories pained her, "My wounds were great and I could hardly walk. But somehow I managed to get myself in the air. I flew all the way to the mainland, determined to get to Warfang and let someone know what had happened. But I never made it. Weak and on the brink of death, I collapsed while flying over a forest. The fall snapped one of my wings, but I was already unconscious."

"When I awoke, I thought I had died. But the pain returned and I realised that somehow, miraculously, I had survived. I was in a temple of sorts, surrounded by dragons I didn't know. They were earth dragons – all of them. They had found me injured in the forest and carried me here to their underground city, a sanctuary where they had lived in peace for many generations, crafted by their ancestors. They called it Ethra. But it wasn't only earth dragons who lived in this city – there were several wind dragons too."

"It took a long time for my injuries to recover. For many months I lay on a bed, swathed in bandages, wondering what had happened to my dear Seriphos and everyone I had befriended on the isle of the Dragon Temple. Many of the dragons in this city had eggs and hatchlings. It was peaceful here, but outside the wars raged. Eventually they came to me with a proposition."

"They were going to join the war, to help the dragons on the surface world protect the realms. They asked me to remain here and care for their children until they returned. Too weak to join the war myself, I agreed. And so they left, every adult in the city, and journeyed into the war-ravaged outside world."

A pained look crossed Selador's face, "They never returned."

Spyro shuddered as a chill crept up his spine. Selador blinked as though coming out of a trance and met the stunned eyes of her enraptured audience.

"That was about twelve years ago," the navy dragoness said, "I have been here ever since, caring for the hatchlings who will never know their parents. Many were still eggs when their parents left."

Roku's face darkened, "I was only five when they left, but I remember. I wanted to go with them, but I was told I had to stay here and care for my younger sibling, who had yet to hatch. I always believed they would return, but I gave up hope when I turned thirteen."

The black dragon turned to Domino, who was looking oddly subdued. The splotchy black and white dragon wasn't bouncing any more. He was just looking at his paws sadly.

"Some still believe their parents are coming back," Roku sighed, "but Domino and I know they're not. Master Selador is all we have now."

Spyro and his friends exchanged glances. Many of them had never known their parents either and those that had, like Saffron and Zannak, had lost them long ago.

"Does that mean you're the only adult in this city?" Ember asked Selador curiously. The navy dragoness nodded soberly with a sad sort of smile.

"The one and only."

She turned her bright eyes on the purple dragon, "Now, you've heard my tale, young one. Why don't you tell me yours? Tell me, how did the purple egg manage to survive the raid on the temple? How did you manage to survive the war as just a hatchling?"

Spyro smiled hesitantly, "It's a long story."

Selador settled down comfortably on her own cushion, folding her dainty paws in front of her armour-clad chest, "I'm in no rush."

So, for the next half hour, Spyro spoke of everything that had happened to him, from the night of the raid when Ignitus had rescued his egg, to when he had left Warfang the previous day on his search for the Chronicler. Selador never interrupted, though she did give a little start of shock when Spyro spoke of his rescue of Thasos and the others from their home in the hidden forest beyond the swamp. Roku and his brother were also listening intently.

Spyro's voice was a little hoarse by the time he had finished, and he was grateful to finally stop speaking. It felt like he had told that tale a thousand times, and it never got any easier. Many of his memories still made him shudder to recall.

"You have been through a lot, haven't you?" Selador murmured when he was done, "Thank you for telling me. It is good to know there is still hope for the dragon race, and the Dark Master is finally gone. But it is troubling to hear about this new threat."

Spyro only nodded. Selador stood up, stretching her long limbs and unfurling her wings. She looked over the weary group of young dragons and couldn't help but smile. They had hardly gotten any sleep the previous night.

"Stay for a few days, won't you? Regain your strength before you continue your journey," she offered, "You look worn out."

Spyro wanted to refuse, but Cynder spoke up before he could, "Thank you, Master Selador, that's very kind of you. I think we could all use a rest after last night. Which reminds me…"

The black dragoness turned to Roku, who cocked his head quizzically.

"Thanks for helping us. We really owe you one."

The black dragon smiled and shook his head, "I didn't do much. You were the ones who beat them off. But you're welcome."

Domino grinned adoringly at his older brother, "You're so awesome."

Sparx glanced from the splotchy black and white dragon to Roku, and nudged Spyro with his elbow. "Hey, Spyro, why don't you treat me like that? You really should acknowledge my awesomeness once in a while."

Spyro glared at the dragonfly.

Selador was walking towards the door, "Well, everyone should be awake by now. What do you say we go greet them?"

When Selador had said she was the only adult in the city, Spyro hadn't really thought about what that meant. But when he stepped out of the small temple and looked around the underground city, he realised. There were dragons everywhere, laughing and playing like children. In fact, they were children, every one of them. Most looked between the ages of ten and fifteen, and there was not an adult in sight.

"The youngest are about Domino's age," Selador said, appearing at Spyro's side, as though she had read his thoughts, "That is, about eleven. They were just newly laid eggs when their parents left. Roku is the oldest, at seventeen. The rest are anywhere in between. They can be quite a pawful, but I wouldn't have it any other way. They are like my own children – a whole city of them."

She laughed softly. As Spyro looked over the cities inhabitants, who had yet to realise they had visitors, he realised something. There was a distinct pallet of colours present in these young dragons – green, brown, grey and white tones. He spotted a few black dragons, like Roku.

"Are they all earth dragons?" the purple dragon asked, frowning.

"And wind dragons," Selador said, "Just like their parents. They've taught each other how to use their elements. I can assist the earth dragons, but the wind dragons have had to learn how to control their element on their own. But they're very enthusiastic, especially young Domino."

Spyro glanced at the bouncing black and white dragon, "He's a wind dragon?"

"Like his mother and father," Selador sighed wistfully, "But Roku takes after his grandfather, an earth dragon. I've taught him myself, just like I taught Seriphos. He's very talented."

But any more idle chatter was forgone when Domino ran forward and yelled to the entire city, "Everyone! Guests!"

There were several gasps, a sudden silence, and then excited chatter broke out amongst them. Suddenly, Spyro and his friends found themselves surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd of excited hatchlings. They were all asking questions at once, and Spyro's head spun as he tried to keep up. Suddenly Selador threw back her head and roared, "QUIET!"

A hush passed over the crowd. Every dragon sat down quickly and turned eyes on the imposing navy dragoness. She glowered at them for several moments before a smile broke across her face.

"Now, let's be a little more civilised," she said, "This is Spyro and his friends. They're going to stay for a few days. Why don't you all welcome them?"

A chorus of 'hi, Spyro' followed. The purple dragon grinned hesitantly at Cynder, who hid her giggle behind her wing.

"Make yourselves at home," Selador offered with a wink, "We haven't had visitors for many years. I think you'll find you're very popular."

It turned out the navy dragoness was right. Soon the young earth and wind dragons were showing their guests around the city. As promised, Roku led them up to the very top of the cavern to show them where the light was coming from. A small shaft of light had broken through the rock and stone, and the black dragon pointed out several mirrors that had been set around the city, made from polished metal, which bounced the light around the cavern.

"Sweet," Sparx said, hovering into the shaft of light and spreading his arms as though it was water trickling over his body.

They were also showed the wells in the city, which provided them with water from deep underground. Then, somehow, it slipped out that Spyro was trying to learn the wind element. He was dragged off to one of the courtyards by the young wind dragons, who were more than eager to give him a lesson. Zephira watched them go, feeling a little twinge of jealousy.

Hours later, the white wind dragoness was to be found sitting on top of a roof, watching the happenings down below her. Spyro was being given a lesson in wind, and Cynder had joined it. Across from them, in an opposite courtyard, Saffron, Zannak, Ciro and Kazan were playing a sort of game with the other young dragons. Flame and Ember had disappeared, presumably to spend some time exploring alone together. Zephira sighed and laid her head on her forepaws, watching the wind dragons in the courtyard.

The sound of claws hitting stone alerted her to someone landing behind her. She jumped and looked around to see Roku approaching her. The black dragon padded over to her side.

"Why are you up here?" he asked, glancing at her and then down to her friends in the courtyard.

A tinge of pink touched her cheeks and she looked away, "I was just…just…"

She trailed off, unable to explain. Roku looked at her, but said nothing. Zephira could feel his piercing eyes like twin spots of light on her back. She quickly looked back to meet his eyes, and was surprised by how striking they were against his black scales. The wind dragoness looked at her paws again.

"What was your name again?" Roku asked, sitting down beside her.

"Zephira," she murmured softly, still looking at her paws.

"You're a wind dragon, aren't you?"

Zephira looked up suddenly, staring at him with shock. It was strange; everyone who had ever met her had thought she was an ice dragon at first. But somehow he had known.

"How can you tell?" she asked timidly, her tail swishing anxiously.

Roku shrugged, "It's the way you move. I guess it's hard to explain, but I've seen enough wind dragons in my life to be able to tell when I'm looking at one."

He glanced down towards Spyro, who had ended up flat on his back after a failed attempt to create a mini tornado. "Why don't you join them?"

Zephira hesitated. She pawed anxiously at the rough stone beneath her paws, thinking over her answer. Roku's presence made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was the dark colour of his scales, or the vibrancy of his eyes, but something about him was a little more than imposing for the wind dragoness.

"Before…before we left Warfang, the Guardians asked me a favour," Zephira sighed at last, "They wanted me to teach Spyro how to use wind. I'm the only wind dragon in the city, other than Old Mother Seak, but she's too old to use her element anymore. I was scared at first, I thought I couldn't do it, but Spyro convinced me I could. I…I worked up the courage to teach him and now…well, now he doesn't need me."

She looked pointedly down at the group of young wind dragons who were training Spyro in the courtyard. They were laughing; the sound carried up to where Zephira and Roku were sitting. The white dragoness thought she caught the sound of Spyro's laughter. A strange sadness settled in the pit of her stomach.

Roku stared at her, "Of course he needs you. You're his friend, and he'll always need his friends."

"Look at him," Zephira sighed, "Look at them. They're so much more confident than me. He'll learn so much better from them than he would from me. I'm…weak. He doesn't need me."

The black dragon uttered a small grunt of laughter, "That's ridiculous. Just because you're not as confident as they are doesn't mean you can't help him. Besides, you won't be here forever. Once you, Spyro and everyone else leave, it'll be up to you to teach him. You're the only one who can, you know."

Zephira hesitated, "Cynder's a wind dragon, too. I wonder why the guardians didn't ask her to teach him."

Roku shrugged, "They'd have their reasons. And they had reasons for asking you, too, I'll bet. They must think you're trustworthy to give you the job of teaching the purple dragon. Believe in yourself."

The black dragon stood up, "You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can go down there and join them. I know what I'd rather do."

Zephira gaped at him, unable to find anything to say in response. Roku glanced at her, his brilliant green eyes glinting.

"You don't seem like a weak dragoness to me, Zephira." Then he spread his wings and soared down to join Saffron and the others.

Zephira sat for a while, mulling over what he had said. A part of her wanted to go down their and join the wind dragons, but the rest of her was too scared to do so. She felt useless, like a single leaf being blown in the wind, unable to control which way it was buffeted. She had always felt weak, but now, in the face of all these enthusiastic wind dragons, she felt even weaker. She'd never met another wind dragon before, other than Mother Seak; she'd always been the only one. And a part of her felt that had been her only strength.

"He gives good advice, you know," said a voice. Zephira jumped for a second time. Selador stood beside her, her armour glinting regally in the pale light that washed the city. She must have been very silent to have approached without Zephira's notice.

"M-Master Selador," the wind dragon stammered, standing up, "I didn't see you there."

The navy dragoness winked and lay down, "I can be very quiet when I want to be. I heard Roku speaking to you. He's quite wise beyond his age, that young dragon. You ought to listen to what he has to say."

Zephira sighed, "I know. But…I can't. I don't feel strong enough. I've always been a weak fighter. I should have known Spyro would find someone better to teach him."

"It's not about how strong you are in body," Selador chided, "That's not what the elements are about. As long as you have a strong mind and a kinship with the energy of the world, you can achieve anything. And you don't seem like a weak-minded dragoness, little one."

Zephira didn't reply. She sat down again and for a while the two dragonesses just looked out over the city and watched the young dragons play. Eventually, Selador spoke again.

"Zephira," she said gently, "tell me, did you ever know your parents?"

The wind dragoness looked up, "I…I knew my mother. Why?"

The navy dragoness shifted slightly, "Tell me about her."

Zephira stared wistfully into the distance, "She was an ice dragoness, and so was my father, I was told. I think I got my wind powers from my great grandfather. Mother was…sick when I knew her. When everyone fled from Warfang, my mother took my egg and my brother, who was just newly hatched at the time. My father, I was told, stayed behind to protect the city. Mother believed she had lost him forever."

"Eventually I hatched in the tunnels under the mountains, but mother was already wasting away. She couldn't handle losing my father, and slowly she withered away and died. I was only a hatchling. I suppose my brother and I weren't enough to keep her alive. She was…too weak."

The wind dragoness blinked, and it seemed as though her eyes were glistening with tears, "After that, Saffron's mother took us in. She was kind and sweet, and Saffron became like a sister to me. Her father had also stayed behind with the city. For a few years it was peaceful, but then Saffron's mother disappeared. She left the caverns where we lived and were safe, and ventured outside to see what was happening in the world. She never came back, and Saffron has never forgiven her for it."

"After that, we were on our own. But we were together, Saffron and I, and our brothers. That was all that mattered."

There was a sad look in Selador's yellow-green eyes, "Do you believe you are weak because of your mother?"

Zephira's head shot up, "Of course not! I…"

She faltered, a frown crossing her face. A part of her resented her mother, just like Saffron resented hers. She had let herself die, too weak to carry on without her mate, too selfish to care for her children. She had been weak, Zephira knew that. But was that the reason why she had always considered herself weak?

"You aren't your mother, Zephira," Selador said gently, "She may have wasted away without her mate to support her, but that doesn't mean you are just the same. You are a strong dragoness with a kind heart. I can tell that just from your eyes."

Zephira closed her eyes, "I don't want to be weak like her. If I ever have hatchlings, I want to be there for them. I want to be a strong mother, not one who wastes away and leaves them to fend for themselves."

Selador paused and then said, "You know, in my day it was traditional that hatchlings leave their parents at the age of ten. Most never saw their parents again, myself included."

Zephira was aghast, "But that's awful! Why?"

Selador shrugged, "It was a way of life. At ten we left to attend the academy on the Dragon Temple. We'd spend the next seven years there – ten if we underwent advanced training – and then return to society as adults ready to live our own lives. Our parents were no longer needed. I suppose it was a little bittersweet for our parents. But at least we got to spend the first ten years of our lives with them. Unlike these little ones."

Zephira nodded, "They'll never know their parents…like Spyro and Cynder."

Selador stood up, "Why don't you go and join your friends? I'm sure they'd like your company. If not Spyro, then why not your friend Saffron? They're playing that medallion game…goodness knows how many times I've seen them play that. I think I'll stretch my wings."

The navy dragoness spread her massive wings and jumped from the roof. She soared over the heads of the dragons below and disappeared into the city, dodging around the temples and houses that hung from the roof. At last Zephira stood up and glided down to join her friends.

The medallion game, she soon found out, was a game that involved a carved bronze medallion on a strap of leather. Someone took the medallion, and it was the aim of the game to catch whoever had the medallion and take it from them. The first dragon to seize the medallion was the winner. To mix things up, two medallions were used, but only one was the right one to steal. The other was a decoy.

The medallion was currently hanging on Zannak's horn, and the gold dragon was fleeing from a crowd of excited earth dragons. Saffron was watching from the sidelines, laughing and shouting encouragement to the dragons chasing her brother.

"Bite his tail!" she laughed as one of them caught up to him. Zannak yelped when the small earth dragon did just that.

"Hey!" he yelled to his sister, falling flat on his stomach, "Whose side are you on?"

"No one's," Saffron smirked as the earth dragon stole the medallion from Zannak's horn, "I'm the referee."

The young earth dragon trotted proudly over to her, the medallion's strap clenched between his teeth. Saffron took it from him, praising him with a wink. She then picked up the other medallion, which was lying next to her.

"Alright!" she called to the waiting dragons, "This time there'll be two medallions! The one carved with the earth symbol is the one you want to steal! The one carved with the wind symbol is a decoy! But you won't know which is which until you get close enough to see! Get over here, you two!"

"Why us?" Zannak groaned as he and Ciro plodded reluctantly over to her.

"Because I like torturing you," Saffron winked, and then turned to the earth dragons, "Close your eyes!"

They gave a collective groan, but closed their eyes anyway. Saffron quickly hung one medallion on Zannak's horn and the other on Ciro's horn. Then she called out, "Ready? Go!"

Zannak and Ciro scampered in opposite directions, and the crowd of earth dragons split in two to pursue them. Saffron grinned. Zephira glided to her side and landed daintily, watching the chase curiously.

"What's going on?" the wind dragoness asked.

"It's a game," Saffron explained, "They need to retrieve the right medallion."

Zephira blinked and watched as Zannak narrowly avoided one of the earth dragons, who had leaped at him. Kazan was also watching from the sidelines, looking amused.

"Which one is it?" the wind dragoness asked.

Saffron lowered her voice, "Ciro has it. But don't tell them."

Kazan laughed loudly as Zannak was flattened yet again by the crowd of earth dragons chasing him. Saffron glanced at him and an evil glint appeared in her violet eyes.

"Oi, Kazan, get over here!" she yelled. The fire dragon jumped and, looking at her suspiciously, plodded over.

"What-?" he began, but Saffron cut him off by tossing a third medallion over his horn.

"Kazan's got the fire medallion!" the electricity dragoness yelled, "Whoever catches him gets an extra prize!"

The earth dragons who had flattened Zannak and realised he had the wrong medallion suddenly jumped up. They started towards the stunned Kazan, who took off in the opposite direction as though Malefor himself was on his tail. Saffron was suddenly overcome with a fit of giggles.

"You'll never catch me alive!" the fire dragon yelled, laughter in his voice as he fled from the chasing earth dragons.

Meanwhile, Ciro was running from the rest of the earth dragon gang, who now knew he had the right medallion. The ice dragon was fast and kept running rings around the smaller earth dragons, a wild grin on his face. A disgruntled Zannak limped over to join his sister.

"What's the prize?" Zephira asked Saffron.

The yellow dragoness gestured to a clay pot beside her, filled to the brim with bright red berries, "Raspberries. Selador sends Roku and some of the older dragons out to pick them every now and then. She keeps them as treats for the young dragons, and gave me these as prizes."

"Gotcha!" yelled one of the earth dragons, and Ciro was suddenly stripped of his medallion. The earth dragon trotted proudly over to Saffron, the medallion between his teeth, and Zephira realised it was the same one who stole Zannak's medallion before.

"Fast, aren't you?" Saffron winked, and tossed a few berries to the young dragon.

There was the sound of laughter from behind them, and they turned to see Kazan had been brought down. He was flattened to the cobblestones, the earth dragons clambering all over his back as they tried to retrieve the medallion. Kazan himself was laughing good-naturedly. For a moment Saffron just watched them, and a fond smile spread across her face.

'_Maybe he's not so bad after all…'_

"They seem to like you," Roku said, approaching them, "Or maybe it's just the berries they're after."

"Must be the berries," Zannak groaned, flopping onto his side, "If they liked us, they wouldn't be so rough."

"Just be glad that Domino is preoccupied with your friend Spyro," Roku said, grinning, "He'd show you the meaning of rough."

Saffron glanced towards the other courtyard, where Spyro had finally succeeding in creating his first ever tornado. Granted it was small and it dissipated after barely a minute, it was an improvement.

"You know, I think we're going to enjoy the next few days here."

A day passed in the city of Warfang and a night, too, with no sign of the panther that Nalu had spied by the Academy. A troubled Terrador doubled the number of guards patrolling the walls and the city, but still the panthers went undetected. But by the time morning rolled around, an even bigger problem was closing in on the city of Warfang.

Skelos peered through the trees at the mighty walls of the dragon city. Only a short stretch of open land stood between the forest, where his panther warriors were hiding, and the great city. The sound of leaves crunching under paw alerted him to Skulk's approach.

"Silt should be here soon," the cold-eyed panther said, leaning against the trunk of a tree. His sharp eyes pierced through the bushes, gazing upon the stone walls of Warfang. "Our Assassins are still inside the city?"

"As far as I know," Skelos replied, turning to face his twin, "I've been thinking about how we should go about this. It may not be best to attack them outright. We don't know what their motivation is."

"What's your point?" Skulk drawled, scraping lines in the bark of the tree with his sharpened claws.

"They might not be as closely allied with the cheetahs as we think," Skelos pointed out, "and our quarrel is not with them. If they're smart, we may be able to convince them to let us settle our differences with the cheetahs alone, without their interference."

Skulk looked sharply at his twin brother, "What are you saying?"

Skelos fiddled with his ash staff absentmindedly, "I'm saying I want to talk to them, face to face. I may be able to negotiate with them."

Skulk snorted, "Stupid. As soon as they see the army of warriors we've brought with us, they'll know we've come to attack. There'll be no _negotiating_."

"Then they won't see them!" Skelos argued, sounding annoyed, "They don't need to know all our warriors are here. I'll go to the city alone and speak to their leader, whoever he may be. We just might be able to avoid a battle. And taking Avalar will be that much less complicated if we don't go making enemies with the dragons. Trust me, Skulk, I know what I'm doing."

"And what if the dragons aren't as civil as you think they are?" Skulk asked bitterly, "You take one step into their city and you'll be cut down before you can say a word. There's no way they'll trust you long enough to negotiate with you."

"That's why I'll go unarmed," Skelos replied, setting his staff down and spreading his arms, "They're not savages, judging from what Orpheus has reported to me. They'll listen long enough for me to state our case, I'm sure of it. Without weapons I won't be a threat. They'll listen, I know they will."

"And if they don't?" Skulk snapped, but Skelos held a paw up and turned around.

Silt was standing there, his alarming orange eyes watching his twin masters curiously. Skelos smiled, revealing brilliant white fangs. "That's where Silt and the assassins come in.'

Silt raised an eyebrow, "Sir?"

"I'm going to negotiate with the dragons," Skelos said, "Alone. But I'll need some backup. Did you bring the rest of the warriors?"

"Yes, sir," Silt replied, gesturing behind him where the panthers were mingling amongst the trees, "They're all here. What did you need me to do, Master Skelos?"

"Skulk, the tracking gem," Skelos said abruptly. Still looking unconvinced, his twin fished the dark crystal out of his pocket. "Let's see what our assassins are up to."

In Skelos's paw, the tracking gem sparked and crackled until a projection appeared above it, wavering in the air. Nyx's cold yellow eyes glared into his brilliant blue orbs.

"Master Skelos!" she gasped, and then exclaimed, "The dragons know we're in the city! How close are you?"

A frown crossed Skelos' face, "They know? How?"

"It was that fool Orpheus," Nyx spat bitterly, "Got himself seen. Forgive me, master, but you may have made a bad choice when you elected him as an elite."

Skelos' eyes darkened, "I see. That does pose a problem…They haven't found you yet?"

"No, we're still hidden."

"Good, then it shouldn't matter. We are now in the forest just outside of the dragon city. The assistance of the Elite Guard is required."

Nyx's eyes lit up, "I shall assist you in any way I can, Master Skelos!"

"Good. I'm going to negotiate alone with the dragon leader, and I need you to cover my back in case they attack," Skelos explained, "Do you know who their leader is?"

"There are four dragons in the city they call guardians," Nyx said thoughtfully, frowning, "They're very big and rather old. The huge green one seems to be their leader. He's got these massive, curling brown horns and a club on the end of his tail."

Skelos nodded, "I see. I want you to let the other assassins know. I'll be entering the city via the main gates. I want you to be there to cover me. Stay out of sight and keep your weapons trained on the dragon leader when you see him. How many of you have bows?"

"Steel and I have crossbows," Nyx replied eagerly, her eyes shining.

"Good. Should the dragon leader make any move to attack, shoot him down instantly. I will be unarmed. With any luck it won't come to that. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Nyx bowed her head, "We'll be there, watching your back."

"Good."

The projection wavered and dissipated, and Skelos tossed the tracking gem back to Skulk. He then turned to Silt, who was waiting stiffly for his orders.

"If the dragons refuse to negotiate, we will proceed with the attack," Skelos said, "I want you to borrow a longbow; we have plenty. Wrap an oiled rag around the head of an arrow and take some flint with you. You're going to sneak into the city and meet up with the rest of the assassins. Make sure you can see me."

Silt was nodding, a frown on his face as he took it all in.

"Should I raise my paw, you are to light that arrow and shoot it into the sky. That will be the signal to attack. Do you understand?"

Silt took a deep breath and nodded, "Understood, Master Skelos."

Skelos looked towards the great walls, "If we're lucky, we may get out of a battle today, and we needn't lose any warriors. It all depends on how close these dragons are to the cheetahs. Skulk, explain the plan to our warriors. You will lead them into battle should I fail to negotiate with the dragons."

"Fine," Skulk still didn't look happy, "Try not to get yourself killed."

Skelos smirked, "I won't. Not with our assassins watching my back. Go, Silt, it's time to put our plan into action."

"Sir," Silt turned and slipped away into the trees. He returned minutes later with a longbow and a few arrows, one with its head wrapped in an oily rag. He slipped two pieces of flint into his pocket. With a nod to his masters, the orange-eyed panther skirted around the edge of the forest, looking for the best spot to approach the city.

"Don't be seen, Silt," Skelos called after him, "Our entire plan depends on it."

Skulk turned away, and Skelos heard him calling a meeting with the warriors to explain the plan. Skelos waited at the edge of the forest for several tense minutes, wondering if Silt had succeeded. Moments passed. Skulk rejoined his twin brother.

"What now?"

Skelos opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly the crystal in Skulk's pocket began to crackle. The panther fished it out quickly and an image of Silt appeared.

"I'm in," the orange-eyed panther said in a hushed voice, "Give us a few moments to get into position."

The projection faded. Skulk pocketed the tracking gem and looked pointedly at his twin. Skelos removed the dagger from his belt and handed it and his staff to his brother.

"I'll be needing those if this doesn't work," he said, with a strained grin. Skulk glowered and didn't respond. After several minutes, Skelos straightened up and stepped out of the trees.

"It's time," he said, turning back to look at Skulk. His brother nodded stiffly, and Skelos set out across the open stretch of land towards the city.

In tense silence, Skulk could only watch as his twin strode alone and unarmed towards the massive gates of Warfang.

**A/N: Wooo, new character! And this one was actually planned. You'll be seeing more of Roku...he's definitely one of my favourites. Does anyone recall in which chapter of ToaO Selador was mentioned? Bet you don't! ;P**

**You know, I love Orpheus as much as I love being mean to him. He needs hugs. Everyone send Orpheus hugs. :3**

**Exciting stuff next chapter! I hope. xP I'll try not to make you wait too long.**

**Extra thanks to GoldenGriffiness for writing Volteer's dialogue in this chapter. And just so you know, I'm beta to her story, Lingering Shadows. It's only got a prologue and a first chapter at the moment, but you should go read it! It's good!**

**Super thanks to my awesome reviewers! Have some virtual cake. ^^**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Oi, remember me? I know, sorry for making you wait so long...again. But I've had a rough few months and this chapter wasn't the easiest to write. Large scale battles sort of throw me off a bit. But anyway... **

**Kudos to GoldenGriffiness for the Volteer and Cyril scene, cause she came up with the ideas for it. Oh, and one thing I feel I need to clear up. Remember a few chapters back when the hermit was being his old creepy self and predicted that there would be 'no deaths'? What he was referring to was that single battle in Avalar that night. Not any other battle; not the war in general; just that single battle. Just in case you were confused. Yes, there will be deaths; lots of deaths.  
**

**In case you've forgotten since it's been two months or something, here's a recap: After the battle between the panthers and the cheetahs at Avalar, Spyro was contacted through his dreams by the Chronicler. Now he and his gang are off to the White Isle. Meanwhile, the panthers head to Warfang, hoping to test out just how much of a threat the dragons are. Spyro and his friends have made a short detour on their quest and are currently staying at the underground city of Ethra, home to many orphaned earth and wind dragons, whose parents left to fight in the war and never returned. They're taking a short respite there under the watchful eye of the lone adult in the city: Seriphos's long lost mentor, earth dragoness Selador. Meanwhile, Skelos approaches Warfang alone, hoping to negotiate with the leader of the dragons and avoid a battle.**

**Now, on with the show...  
**

**13.**

The grey morning sky was threatening the approach of a storm when an almighty crashing sound awoke Terrador from his restless slumber. Alarmed, the green guardian tumbled off his bed of cushions and struggled to his feet. He slammed his door open and raced down to the common room, to find a yellow dragon standing in the doorway. The door itself was hanging off one of its hinges, swinging erratically.

"Naxos!" Terrador exclaimed to the panting dragon, "What on earth…?"

"There's a…" Naxos gasped, looking as though he'd run a mile in a second, "…a panther! At the gates!"

The earth guardian froze, "What?"

Naxos took several deep breaths and said, "Seriphos sent me. There's a lone panther at the main gates, asking to speak with 'the green guardian'. We assumed that was you…"

Terrador's face darkened and he brushed past Naxos without a word, taking to the sky and winging his way towards the main gates. The yellow dragon took a moment to regain his breath, before climbing the stairs to alert the other guardians.

A distant rumble of thunder sounded as the earth guardian alighted next to Seriphos on the battlements above the main gate. The captain glanced darkly at the guardian and jerked his head over the edge of the wall, "He's asking for you."

Terrador peered over the edge to see a single black cat standing on the ground below, his head craned upwards. The panther looked simply miniscule in comparison to the massive wall, which gave the earth guardian a strange sort of satisfaction. The creature's deep blue eyes carried a challenge that Terrador couldn't ignore.

"Is it I you are after, panther?" he rumbled, glaring down at the feline.

"If you are the head guardian, then yes!" the panther called back.

"I am the earth guardian, Terrador," he replied coldly, "What does a panther want with me?"

The panther took a few steps back from the wall, so that he could see the dragons upon it more clearly, and called, "My name is Skelos, the leader of the panther clan. I've come to negotiate with you, in the hopes that we may avoid bloodshed. I ask to be let in, so that we may speak."

Seriphos scowled and cut in, "How do we know you are trustworthy? You could be planning a trap for us!"

Skelos spread his arms, "As you can see, I am unarmed! My clan does not wish to spill blood any more than you and your city do, I am sure. If you would hear me out, we may come to a compromise. Our quarrel is not with you."

Terrador paused for a moment, his eyes raking the horizon for any sign of the panther's allies. But he saw only an empty plain, and a still forest beyond. Glancing down at Skelos again, he saw no mockery in the dark cat's deep blue eyes. Though the green dragon may not have wanted to believe it, something told Terrador that this panther was being honest.

"Let him in," the guardian ordered, turning to fly down to the base of the gates.

Seriphos stared, "Sir?"

"He is alone and unarmed," Terrador replied, "If it will avoid us a battle, we should hear what he has to say. Perhaps we _can_ come to a compromise."

"And if not?" Seriphos asked hesitantly, glancing distrustfully down at the panther.

Terrador paused, "It shouldn't be too difficult to rid ourselves of a single panther."

The earth guardian soared down to the ground, and Seriphos glanced at his guards that were lined up along the wall beside him.

"Be on your guard," he told them, "If that panther does anything suspicious, kill him."

"Open the gates!" Terrador roared. The moles in charge of the gatehouse did as they were ordered, and the gates opened slowly with a deep scraping sound. Skelos stood on the other side, waiting patiently. He watched the great, golden gates open with a sort of awe.

The gates creaked to a halt when they were about half open. Skelos strode into the city, his arms at his side, aware of the many suspicious eyes trained on his unarmed form. Terrador ordered the moles to close the gates, and they did so immediately. Skelos couldn't help the sense of foreboding that shuddered through his body when he felt the huge gates close behind him with a heavy thud.

Terrador approached the panther and for a moment they stood facing each other, silent. It struck Skelos just how very big the great dragon was. Quelling the trembles of fear in his limbs, the panther took a deep breath and met the guardian's challenging green eyes.

"Speak," Terrador growled, "Let me hear what you have to say, panther."

"Please, call me Skelos," he replied, "Let's talk on equal terms."

The guardian seemed surprised, but nodded nonetheless, "Tell me, Skelos, what have you come here to negotiate about?"

Skelos thought for a moment about what to say. Eventually he replied, "About a week ago, some of my warriors went into battle with the cheetahs at Avalar. It was quite unexpected, but they reported that there were dragons present at the battle. This deeply troubled me, as you can imagine…"

"The cheetahs of Avalar came to us for assistance," Terrador cut in, "They knew of the threat to their village, and asked us to help them protect it."

"I had thought that the quarrel between panther and cheetah would stay within the feline species," Skelos replied, with a small frown, "After all, it is one that began over a thousand years ago. Interference from dragons is…unexpected. What I came to request is…"

The panther faltered, wondering how to word it, but Terrador said it for him.

"You want us to step aside?" the earth guardian growled, his face darkening grimly.

Skelos nodded, folding his arms, "I ask that you not interfere with the disagreement between panther and cheetah. Not only is an alliance between dragons and felines entirely inappropriate, but it is an insult to our ancestors that you should interfere in a feud that has been going on for centuries between our tribes! I ask you to respect our honour and step aside."

Terrador's eyes flashed with anger, "The cheetahs are more than just our allies! They are our comrades; our friends! You stand here and speak about honour, but you seek to take Avalar through trickery, spies and assassins! There is no honour in such warfare!"

"How we plan to retake Avalar is none of your concern!" Skelos snapped, his fur bristling.

"It _is_ when you are putting my friends and comrades in danger!" Terrador snarled. The dragons on the battlements were getting restless, put on edge by the angry tone in the earth guardian's voice. Unknown to them, Skelos's assassins had their crossbows trained straight on Terrador, ready to fire in case he made any move to attack.

Skelos took a deep steadying breath, "I am asking you to withdraw your forces from this feud, to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. I do not want my warriors to die at your claws when it is not necessary that we should fight. And I doubt you want any of your dragons to lose their lives in battle with us! Step aside and allow my clan to settle this dispute with the cheetahs without your interference!"

"Avalar is not yours to claim," Terrador said grimly, "I will not step aside and allow you to desecrate the land of our comrades. The cheetahs are our friends, and we will stand and fight with them if that is what is required to protect them."

"Felines and dragons were never meant to be friends!" Skelos exclaimed, making a wild gesture with his hands, "Why do you insist on putting your city in danger because of a few cheetahs? This is not your battle to fight!"

Terrador reared up on his hind legs suddenly, and Skelos took several steps backwards in shock. In hiding, Nyx took aim, ready to fire. But Terrador didn't attack. He just slammed his forepaws into the ground, cracking the cobblestones with a tremendous thud. Skelos staggered, his heart hammering wildly, and met the furious eyes of the earth guardian.

"You're asking us to step aside and allow you to take away the land that the cheetahs have worked so hard to protect throughout the war," Terrador snarled, taking a step closer, "You're asking us to allow you to leave our comrades at your mercy, and that is something that will _never_ happen! The cheetahs fought and died with us to protect our city from the Dark Master when they didn't have to! They have stuck with us through thick and thin, assisted us to the best of their ability, even saved our lives countless times! They are our allies, our comrades, our friends, and we will _not_ desert them!"

Skelos took another step back, suddenly fearful. He had never faced such ferocity as that which burned in Terrador's eyes in this moment.

"To protect our friends we will fight, and _die_ if we must, but we will never desert them! You can beg and scheme and threaten us as much as you like, but know this _Skelos_, leader of the panther clan…"

Terrador drew himself up tall, eyes shining with fierce confidence, "While Warfang still stands, you and your clan will _never_ take Avalar!"

Skelos swallowed, feeling suddenly very small and feeble in the face of the fierce dragon guardian. He realised then that he had failed. The dragons would never step down. It took him a moment to regain his voice, but eventually he straightened up and smoothed out his cloak, trying to looking nonchalant.

"I see," the panther said, "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. I really had hoped to avoid a battle today. But now your whole city and everyone in it will pay for your stubbornness, Terrador, guardian of earth."

With that, Skelos turned on his heel and strode towards the gates. He raised his left hand into the air as he walked, and the hidden Silt instantly recognised the signal. With one swift motion, he lit the oil-soaked head of his arrow, took aim, and fired straight into the sky.

The burning arrow travelled in a high arc, like a flickering orange star against the dull grey sky. At first the dragons didn't notice, but across the field, Skulk recognised the signal in a heartbeat. The edge of the forest seemed to explode with panthers, just as a deep boom of thunder cut the stormy air. Seriphos's roar of alarm was almost drowned out.

"Terrador! The forest!"

Startled, Terrador looked up and saw the burning arrow silhouetted against the sky just before it fell out of sight. The distant rumble that he had thought was thunder became mingled with distant war cries, and he realised it was not thunder at all, but the sound of thousands of running paws. Skelos dashed for the gates.

"You!" Terrador roared in fury and made to pursue the panther, but something stopped him in his tracks. By some bizarre sixth sense, the earth dragon reared onto his hind legs and just avoided the deadly metal bolt that struck the cobblestones where he had been standing.

Terrador whirled towards the direction the bolt had come from, only to utter a guttural scream of pain as another lodged itself in his flank. Seriphos was screaming orders and had dived down himself to stop Skelos, but the panther had already made it to the gatehouse. Dashing inside, Skelos tore the pair of moles out of the way, his deadly claws flashing, and their bodies bounced limply across the floor. Throwing his shoulder against the wheel, the panther pushed as hard as he could and was rewarded as it started to turn.

The gates were opening. Blinded by pain, Terrador didn't notice until the guards starting shouting in horror.

"The gates!" Seriphos yelled, "Don't let him open the gates!"

Another crossbow bolt shot past the captain's face, scouring a gash in his cheek and just barely missing his eye. In a rage, Seriphos threw himself at the gates in attempt to hold them closed. But they were already half open, and outside a swarm of panthers was rushing to get in.

Skulk was no coward. He didn't hide amongst his troops as they ran into battle; he led them forward at the very head, rapier drawn and ready. When he saw the green dragon trying to hold the gates closed, the panther knew what needed to be done. His twin had gone to the effort of opening those gates, and Skulk wasn't about to let a dragon ruin all that effort. With a howl, the panther threw himself on the dragon.

Seriphos reared backwards on reflex as the panther leapt for him, but this was a mistake. The panther raked his claws across the dragon's chest, drawing his sword back for the strike, and Seriphos overbalanced. He fell backwards with a crash, and roared with agony as pain shot through one of his wings. The panther landed nimbly on his chest and readied his rapier to thrust into Seriphos's throat.

Suddenly Skulk jumped backwards before he had a chance to strike the green dragon down, just managing to avoid the claws of another. A red dragon had swooped by with a scream of rage, and could have beheaded Skulk if he hadn't moved so swiftly. Snarling, the red dragon hit the cobblestones and spun to face the panther.

The guard dragons were trying desperately to close the gates, but panthers were now streaming into the city. Those who couldn't get through the gates were scaling the walls with all the skill that their feline forms bestowed upon them. They were like a swarm of shadows, slowly spreading into the city. The first flash of lightning cut the sky and thunder rumbled through the humid air.

Seriphos struggled upright in time to see Delos trying to bite at the panther that had knocked him down. The panther was putting up a fair fight, dodging the red dragon's bites with ease, until he slashed his blade across Delos's cheek. Delos roared and expelled a wave of flames from his jaws. The panther ducked quickly and the fire barely scorched the furs on the top of his head.

Suddenly another panther leapt from the battlements, landing nimbly on Delos's back. The red dragon snarled and spun around, but the panther fastened his claws between the scales on his neck and held on grimly. Despite all of Delos's bucking and stamping, the panther wouldn't be shifted. Seriphos spat a bullet of stone at the cat, but Delos's erratic movements caused it to miss, barely clipping the panther's ear.

Nevertheless, distracted by the sudden sharp pain in his ear, the panther lost his hold and was thrown to the cobblestones. Before Delos could whirl around to stamp on him, the panther had staggered upright and danced away.

"Nice work, Silt," the other panther smirked, twirling his rapier, "Keep them distracted while I find Skelos."

They split up, and Seriphos made to go after the panther running for the gatehouse. But there were panthers everywhere by now, and he found himself surrounded on all sides. A sudden roar from Terrador caught his attention, and he turned his attention to the guardian. Several of the cats were clambering over Terrador's back, and one had sunk its spear into his shoulder.

"Hold on, Master Terrador!" Seriphos yelled, and whirled to help him.

The wave of panthers pouring in through the gates made way for Skulk as he ran for the gatehouse. He slammed the wooden door open to see two moles lying prone on the floor, and Skelos trying desperately to keep the gates open. One of the moles struggled to get up, but the other lay completely still, blood oozing from three deep scratches in its back. With a sneer, Skulk stabbed his rapier straight through the back of the struggling mole, and the pitiful creature gurgled for a moment before falling silent.

"Sk-Skulk," Skelos grunted through his teeth, his entire body thrown against the wheel as outside the dragons were slowly pushing the gate closed, "I can't…hold it!"

With a scowl, Skulk grabbed the other side of the wheel and added his weight to it, "Don't let them close it! If that gate closes, we won't have a quick escape route!"

"We need to…find something to jam it!" Skelos growled, his shoulder trembling violently from effort.

Gritting his teeth, Skulk looked around the gatehouse desperately for something to jam the wheel with. His eyes fell on a small metal chair in the corner, likely crafted by the moles themselves. It looked sturdy enough.

"Hold on for just a moment," Skulk grunted, preparing to let the wheel go, "I'm going to get that chair. Ready?"

Skelos nodded mutely and Skulk let go, dashing for the chair. Skelos hissed through his teeth as the wheel sprang back against his shoulder. More dragons must have joined those outside trying to shut the gates.

"Hurry!" Skelos snarled, his paws slipping on the dusty wooden floor.

Skulk snatched up the chair and dashed back to his twin. He shoved the chair under the wheel so that the backrest was jammed against it, stopping it from turning back. With a gasp of pain, Skelos finally let go and staggered back, his shoulder aching. The wheel attempted to turn backwards, but the chair stopped it. It creaked and groaned horribly, but it held. Barely.

"How long do you think that will last?" Skelos muttered, rubbing his arm.

"Long enough to get those blasted dragons away from the gates," Skulk replied coldly, "I knew talking with them wouldn't work."

"At least I got the gates open."

Skulk grunted and tossed Skelos's staff to him, which he had been keeping strapped to his back. Skelos caught it deftly and then took the dagger that his twin offered him.

"You'll be needing those now."

Skelos grinned roguishly, "Now we have a little fun, I suppose."

Skulk unsheathed the rapier on his hip, and retrieved the one he'd impaled the mole with upon entering the gatehouse. Twirling the twin rapiers with a deadly smile on his face, he made for the door. "Let's see what these dragons are made of."

"Get off him, you brutes!" Seriphos roared, slashing at the panthers with his tail and sending a pair flying. The panthers who had been swarming over Terrador scattered like flies to avoid Seriphos's raking claws. The green dragon's left wing ached horribly, sending tremors of pain through his entire body, but he tried valiantly to ignore it. He was sure he had sprained it when he had fallen moments before.

Terrador raised his head, snorting blood from his nostrils and grunted, "The gatehouse. The gatehouse, Seriphos. Stop them."

Seriphos shook his head frantically, "We can't fit in the gatehouse; we're too big. And there's too many…too many panthers. We must close the gates before any more get in!"

A deep rumble echoed in Terrador's chest, like the far off tremor of thunder. Lightning flashed briefly across the sky, and the first drops of rain began to fall. Closing his green eyes, the earth guardian slowly curled in on himself, blood trickling from the many cuts and gashes on his body. Seriphos took a step back.

"Stay down…" Terrador grunted softly, clenching his paws. The cobblestones under his claws began to crack. The panthers around them backed slowly away.

The dragons were being pushed back from the gates by the ever-increasing wave of panthers pouring into the city. Skulk's twin rapiers flashed like lightning as he and his twin brother returned to the fray. A blue dragon screamed in agony and fell to his side as one of Skulk's blades slipped through his ribs. The dragon writhed on the ground, blood gushing from the wound. Panthers entering the city stepped mercilessly on the writhing dragon as though he was but a part of the cobblestones.

"They might be big," Skulk said to Skelos as he found himself back to back with his twin, "but they're also slow."

Skelos grunted in acknowledgement. He had sheathed his dagger and was instead wielding his staff, one end of which had been filed to a deadly point. Around the base of the point, a ring of long, sharp, serrated teeth had been embedded. Twirling his staff almost nonchalantly, Skelos lashed out at a nearby dragon, cutting deep into its throat scales and spraying its blood across the ground. Disgusted, the panther stepped out of the way as the dragon fell, choking, to twitch on the cobblestones.

Just as he was about to go after another dragon, Skelos felt something change in the air. He paused in the middle of battle, looking down at the cobblestones. A strange, ominous tremble was running through the streets beneath his paws. Frowning, Skelos looked up and his eyes fell on the earth guardian, who had curled into a ball as though to protect himself. A feeling deep within his gut told the panther that something bad would happen as soon as that dragon uncurled himself. His mouth turned dry.

"Get down!" Skelos yelled suddenly, because he couldn't think of how else to warn his panthers. No sooner had he yelled, though, did Terrador surge upright with a guttural roar.

The earth split and shifted with several loud cracks, as spiked pillars of rock shot up from the cobblestones like spears of stone. Skelos stepped sideways on instinct, just as a spike shot up from the earth beside him, almost impaling his paw. Heart thumping, the earth shaking beneath his feet, the panther dropped into a crouch. He could hear the screams of several panthers, some cut gruesomely short as they, no doubt, were impaled by stone.

Another pillar shot up straight in front of Skelos, and his heart almost stopped. Strong pulses rippled through the streets, warping the cobblestones. Vines were creeping up through the stone, twisting around the limbs of screaming panthers. Skelos screwed his eyes shut against the screams, willing the earth to stop shaking and the world to stop spinning. A vine curled itself around his chest and slowly began to squeeze.

Gasping, Skelos tried desperately to tear at the vine, which was slowly constricting him like a snake. His claws tore at it, but the shaking of the earth knocked him onto his side and he lay kicking and writhing, trying to break free. A thought entered his panicked mind.

_Skulk. Where is Skulk? _

"Br…brother…" Skelos tried to gasp out, the air rushing from his lungs as the vine continued to constrict. Suddenly he heard someone call his name and felt a lithe form land next to him. There was a flash of steel and the pressure around his chest suddenly eased. Gasping for air, Skelos blinked up at his rescuer. A pair of olive green eyes met his.

"Master Skelos! Are you alright?"

"Orpheus…" Skelos grunted, pushing himself onto his knees. Vaguely he noticed the earth had stopped shaking.

The dagger trembled in Orpheus's paw as the young panther calmed himself. "I…I saw you were in trouble. Th-that dragon…I've never seen such power…"

Without a word, Skelos grabbed at Orpheus's arm and hauled himself upright. He grabbed the young panther by the neck of his tunic and gasped, "Where is Skulk?"

"I…haven't seen him!" Orpheus stammered, shocked by the desperation in Skelos's eyes.

The panther leader let him go and turned his blue eyes towards the carnage that littered the cobblestones, searching for his twin. Stalagmites still grew from the ground, some stained gruesomely with blood, and there were several cracks in the stone streets. Limp vines lay upon the cobblestones, alongside trembling, twitching panthers that clutched feebly at their wounds. In the middle of it all, a great green dragon knelt, panting heavily.

Skelos's eyes widened as he took in the sight of his brethren lying wounded upon the ground. A rage like nothing he'd ever known bubbled up from somewhere inside him, and he set his flaming eyes on the earth guardian. His paw shook as he clenched his staff so hard his knuckles turned white beneath his fur.

"You…" Skelos snarled, "You did this…"

With a scream of rage, the panther ran at the green guardian. Orpheus yelled out his name, but Skelos took no heed of it. Terrador raised his head just in time to see Skelos leap at him, and roared when the sharpened end of the panther's staff cut deep into the scales beneath his eye. Blood splattered across the ground. Blinded by his own blood, the guardian lashed out with a hefty paw and caught Skelos a devastating blow to the shoulder.

Skelos's breath caught in his throat as three deep gashes were torn in the soft tissue between shoulder and neck. Blood poured down his fur. He staggered and almost fell, but suddenly someone was there, holding him up. Then another panther appeared, standing before him, his twin rapiers pointed squarely at the earth guardian.

"Get back, dragon," Skulk hissed. Breathing heavily, Terrador snarled at the panther and didn't move.

Blinking, Skelos registered the fact that his twin was standing between him and his opponent. He then noticed that it was Orpheus who was holding him upright. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the battle had resumed. The panthers that hadn't been seriously injured by Terrador's fury were on their feet again, and those that had avoided it all together were still swarming further into the city. Still more were climbing their way over the walls and into the city.

"Terrador!" Seriphos gasped, running to his mentor's side. The earth guardian staggered and leant heavily on the younger dragon. Snarling, the captain turned his eyes on the twin panthers. "How dare you? How dare you attack us just because the negotiations didn't go your way? You're despicable!"

Skulk sneered at him, "Hate to break it to you, dragon, but the plan always was to attack you. The negotiations were just a last minute decision made by my brother here. I knew it wouldn't work, but he insisted. I suppose I always was the brighter one."

Scowling, Skelos pushed Orpheus away and stood up on his own, "Now see here, Skulk…!"

Skulk waved a paw nonchalantly, grinning, "Come on, Skelos, you know I'm the one with the brains in this family."

Skelos snorted, rolling his eyes.

Seriphos trembled with rage, "How…how dare you! You stand there and act like all this is hardly worth your concern! Why? Why are you attacking our city?"

"It's simple really," Skulk smirked, a cruel smile upon his face, "You're in our way."

"If you won't let us take Avalar," Skelos added coldly, "we'll just have to remove you too."

Terrador's good eye flashed and he straightened up, "Warfang will never bow to you! You will never be able to stand up to us! By coming here you have sealed your own doom!"

Skulk's eyes darkened, "We'll see. That may have been a strong blow you struck us with, but look around. Most of our warriors are still standing and fighting. You'll never bring us all down."

"Don't underestimate the power of a dragon," Terrador growled, spreading his wings. Perhaps he wanted to make himself appear bigger, or perhaps it was just a reflex. But whatever it was, Orpheus had to admit it was intimidating.

"Try to scare us all you want," Skulk snarled, pointing one of his blades at Terrador, "We'll cut you down to size. It's not in the nature of a panther to back down from danger."

Terrador brought his forepaw down with a bang, sending a shockwave through the ground that knocked all three panthers off their feet. He then turned to Seriphos and growled, "Sound the war horn. The rest of the city needs to be warned. Go!"

Seriphos nodded stiffly and spun away, spreading his wide wings. Skulk struggled upright, looking furious, "Stop that dragon! Don't let him sound the horn!"

Skelos grabbed Orpheus's shoulder, "Where are the rest of the assassins?"

"I-I don't know!" Orpheus yelped, looking flustered, "They all just split up and left me!"

Skelos gave a snarl of annoyance and pushed the younger panther away, "Go after that dragon! If he sounds the horn, Avalar will be alerted to our presence! Not only that, but the purple dragon might hear it too! And I don't need to tell you that we don't want to have to deal with him!"

Orpheus would have paled if he could. He nodded quickly, clenching his dagger tightly, and turned to run after Seriphos. Skulk was already pursuing the dragon captain, but Seriphos was well ahead. Skelos stood facing Terrador, and the two injured leaders exchanged no words as their forces battled around them.

"Stop, dragon!" Skulk yelled, hurling one of his rapiers. Seriphos ducked out of the way, and it clipped his horn before clattering harmlessly to the cobblestones.

Orpheus quickly caught up with Skulk, his heart thumping with adrenaline. This was it, he thought, this was the chance he needed to prove himself. To prove he was stronger than everyone thought he was. To prove to Nyx that he wasn't worthless. To prove he could live up to his brother's name. To prove that he was worthy to be an assassin.

Dodging around the claws of a yellow dragon, Orpheus kicked off from the ground and hurled himself at Seriphos. He was almost there; his claws were just about to close on his rump. And then Seriphos took flight. He groaned in agony as he forced his sprained wing to stretch out. Then, with a powerful beat of his wings, the dragon captain launched himself into the air, his tail whipping out behind him and catching Orpheus square in the chest. The young panther was thrown backwards and hit the wall of a nearby building with a hefty thud. Stunned, he slid limply to the ground.

A crossbow bolt shot through the air, just missing Seriphos's wing, and Steel the assassin snarled in frustration from his position on top of a roof. On the ground, Skulk roared at his warriors to bring Seriphos down. But the green dragon was already well out of range. He was headed for the war horn, and there was nothing the flightless panthers could do about it.

Skelos gave an almighty start when the hollow note of the war horn rippled through the air, followed by another loud rumble of thunder. The storm was getting closer, and the rain was falling ever heavier. Terrador looked up to the dark storm clouds, the howl of the war horn reverberating in his ears.

"Damn…" Skelos muttered, clenching his paws, "Damn…"

Several hours earlier, in the underground city of Ethra, two dragons were taking a walk. It was late afternoon, and the light reflected by the mirrors around the underground city turned the stone a rich gold colour. Further towards the other side of the city, Spyro and the rest were playing with the young inhabitants of Ethra, and their laughter echoed through the mostly empty streets.

Flame and Ember walked with their tails entwined, their sides brushing together with every other step. The red dragon had pulled his dragoness away from the others about an hour ago, wishing for some time alone with the one he loved. The underground city made Flame nervous and edgy, as it stirred up memories of the underground cavern Alta had once resided in. Ember could sense his anxieties, and she had not argued when he had pulled her away from her friends.

Their pawsteps echoed hollowly in the empty stone streets, and the buildings on either side of them felt hauntingly empty, filled with the ghostly memories of dragons long gone. Ember imagined it had once been a lively place, before all the adults had left to fight in the war, leaving only their children behind. Away from the laughing hatchlings, the city just felt cold and sad.

Sighing, Ember rested her head in the crook of Flame's neck. He shifted slightly in response, his wing creeping around to embrace her.

"It's so quiet," she whispered against his scales, and she felt him shudder softly.

"I don't like it here," he mumbled, lowering his head, "It reminds me of…"

He broke off, shaking his head, and muttered, "It feels like it's full of ghosts. The air…it's so thick…cloying. Like something is surrounding us…watching us."

Ember nuzzled his neck gently, "It's just your imagination running away with you. It's just you and me here. You don't have to worry about any ghosts."

Flame shivered and glanced at her, "Can't you feel it, though? I feel so…enclosed."

Ember raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him with concern. He looked away, as though he was ashamed. "Being underground really makes you nervous, doesn't it? I guess it's only natural, after what happened with Alta, that you'd be scared of such places…"

"I'm not scared!" Flame snapped suddenly, jerking his head around to glare at her. Ember gave him a reassuring smile, completely unbothered by his sudden anger.

"Everyone is scared of something, Flame," she cooed, nuzzling his snout, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're always so brave, but even you have something you fear. It doesn't make you any less strong."

"I told you, I'm not scared," he scowled, "This place just makes me…uncomfortable."

Ember looked knowingly at him, "A brave dragon would admit when something scares him. You _are_ a brave dragon, aren't you, Flame?"

The red dragon blushed crimson and pawed anxiously at the ground, "Of course I am! I'm the bravest dragon here! That's why I'm not scared!"

Ember just looked at him. Flame sighed.

"Fine…maybe a bit," he admitted quietly, glaring at the ground. Ember smiled and nuzzled under his chin, causing him to raise his head in surprise.

"A brave dragon can face those fears, too, right?" she asked, smiling.

Flame smirked, "Right."

Suddenly Ember broke away from him, her heart-shaped tailblade nicking the scales under his chin as she cantered away. Startled, Flame yelled after her and she looked back at him, giggling. "Race you!"

Snorting, Flame leapt after her, a smile creeping onto his face. His paws padded softly against the stone streets as he ran, and the air rushed past, clinging to his scales. Up ahead, he watched the curvy form of Ember twist and turn gracefully as she cantered. The light glimmered on her scales and turned her horns to gold. Yes, she was beautiful. A soft fondness entered Flame's usually fiery eyes.

Picking up the pace, the lithe red dragon quickly caught up to the laughing pink dragoness, "Where are we racing to, anyway?"

She turned her sparkling azure eyes on him, full of laughter, and for a moment Flame felt robbed of breath. He suddenly noticed the dusting of magenta freckles across her cheeks and muzzle, almost blending in with her pink scales.

"Wherever we want to!" she exclaimed, and suddenly she was ahead of him again, her tailblade bobbing inches from the tip of his snout. Grinning, Flame nipped at her tailblade and cantered up to her side. She giggled and bumped him playfully with her hips, their wings touching for an instant.

For several minutes they raced side by side through the underground city, nipping playfully at each other and laughing. The buildings passed by in a blur of golden stone, and the sound of their paws slapping against the stone sounded oddly magnified. Flame felt in that moment that he was as light as air and his previous fears and worries were all but forgotten. All he wanted was to be beside Ember, and that was all that mattered.

They were close to the edge of the city and the side of the great cavern by the time they slowed to a halt. Ember was panting, but Flame was practically bouncing on the pads of his paws. Leaving Ember to catch her breath, the energetic red dragon turned his eyes on the great wall of the cavern that curved upward and far above them. It took a moment before his eyes fell on something curious in the wall, mostly hidden behind a large stone building. Curious, the red dragon stepped closer.

"What is it?" Ember asked, moving to his side. Flame glanced at her and jerked his head towards the cavern wall.

"It looks like a tunnel."

Ember blinked and looked closer. Sure enough, almost hidden amongst the rock, a small tunnel led away into the cavern wall. It was about the size of a deer, a little too small for an adult dragon, but big enough for younger dragons like them. She recalled suddenly something that Roku had told them earlier in the day while showing them around the city.

"This must be one of those secret tunnels that Roku was talking about," Flame said, as though reading her thoughts, "Wonder where it leads."

"Probably to the forest outside," Ember replied, walking over and looking into the dark mouth of the tunnel, but seeing nothing. Flame moved to her side.

"Well there's only one way to know for sure," the red dragon said, an adventurous grin spreading across his face, "Wanna check it out?"

Ember hesitated, "I don't know…it could be blocked or caved in. And the forest isn't exactly the nicest place; we found that out last night…"

Flame rolled his eyes, "Come on, where's your sense of adventure? Who was the one who convinced me to sneak out after Spyro a year ago?"

Ember's cheeks blushed a brilliant fuchsia, "I…I was younger then! Besides, look where that got us."

"Now who's scared?" Flame taunted, grinning, "Come on, let's just take a look. It's not like we're going far. We'll be back before they know we're gone."

Ember mumbled something under her breath and pawed undecidedly at the ground. When she didn't say anything else, Flame made the decision for her, stepping into the mouth of the tunnel. Ember glared at his back as he padded into the darkness, knowing she had no choice but to follow. She wasn't about to let him go on his own. Shaking her head, but feeling that little tingle of excitement that came with doing something reckless, Ember hurried after him.

"I see you decided to follow," Flame smirked when she caught up to him so fast that she almost ran headfirst into his rump. It was so cramped in the tunnel they could hardly turn around.

"As if I'd let you go alone," Ember remarked snippily, "You'd probably get lost without me."

"As if."

The tunnel slopped upwards slowly, and they felt the ground beneath their paws becoming steeper as they went further into the dark. Ember could see brief flashes just ahead and knew that Flame was breathing fire to light the way. She kept as close as she could to his rump, so that his tail brushed under her chest with each step. The air was stifling in the tiny tunnel.

It was at least ten minutes of slow plodding through the dark before they saw any sign of the tunnel's end. Flame, being in front, was the first to see the sliver of light up ahead. He stopped breathing fire and looked back at Ember, turning his head with difficulty in the tight tunnel.

"There's light ahead. We're almost there."

"Good," Ember grunted from the darkness, hardly able to see, "I don't think I could stand another minute in here."

They picked up the pace; knocking loose stones aside with their paws and hearing them clatter against the rocky earth. The tunnel felt like it was even smaller here and Ember winced as her wings scrapping uncomfortably against the rock. The light up ahead slowly grew bigger and brighter, until at last they stepped out into the open.

Ember had been right. The tunnel had taken them up into the forest, into a small thicket of brambles. Pushing their way out of the plants, which prickled their scales uncomfortably, the two young dragons spread their cramped wings and took deep breaths of the evening air. It was early sunset.

"Just like I told you," Ember said, looking around at the trees, "The forest."

"Bet you weren't expecting that, though," Flame said suddenly. Ember turned to look at him in confusion. He was pointing through the trees, to where the sparkling surface of a lake could just be seen.

"Water?" Ember asked blankly as the red dragon started towards it. She followed him curiously through the trees until they found themselves standing at the edge of a large lake.

The orange light of the sinking sun danced on its still surface, as bulrushes swayed gently in the evening breeze. The ground beneath their feet was moist and an earthy scent filled the silent air. Somewhere a frog croaked, a deep melodious sound, and Ember noticed the lily pads floating on the lake close to the bank. The breeze was warm.

"It's…kind of pretty, isn't it?" she murmured to Flame, who was looking around with mild interest.

"It's peaceful," he replied blankly, his eyes resting on several clumps of spirit gems among the trees that encircled the lake.

"It doesn't seem like a place those skeletons would like," the pink dragon pointed out, remembering their trouble the night before, "Maybe we should stay awhile?"

Flame cocked an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Don't you like being alone with me?" Ember asked innocently, her azure eyes twinkling mischievously.

Flame felt his cheeks heat up, "I…what…no, that's not what I…"

The dragoness giggled and trotted to the edge of the water. She dipped one paw in and quickly withdrew it, as though expecting it to be icy cold. But to her surprise it was pleasantly warm. She dipped her paw in the water again, swirling it around her claws, before stepping forward until all four paws were submerged. Turning her head, she saw Flame staring at her, bewildered.

"It's not cold at all," she said, beckoning him, "Come on."

"You can't be serious," Flame muttered, not moving, "You want to go swimming?"

"Well, why not?" Ember asked, "We used to swim all the time back at our old home."

Flame opened his mouth to protest, but Ember had already slipped into the water and was paddling away from the bank. Scowling, he edged closer to the water, eying it distrustfully. Ember paddled in circles, the water sliding effortlessly over her pink scales.

"Come on, Flame," she cooed, "It's just a bit of fun."

Still scowling, the red dragon edged forwards and placed a paw in the shallow water at the edge of the lake. No sooner had he done so, did Ember raise her wing and send a sheet of water flying straight at him. Flame gasped as he was soaked from head to tail, and quickly retreated. He heard Ember giggling and glared at her, his scales heating up angrily and turning the droplets of water to steam.

"Oh yeah?" he growled, crouching low to the ground, "I'll show you!"

The red dragon sprang from the bank and landed in the water with a splash, just barely missing Ember, who shrieked in surprise. Flame sank to the bottom of the shallow lake and kicked off again with a powerful thrust of his hind legs. His head broke the surface of the water with a splash and he took a great gulp of air, water streaming down his scales and into his eyes. No longer able to touch the bottom, he was forced to paddle to keep afloat, spreading his wings over the surface of the water for assistance.

Ember shook her head roughly, blinking water from her eyes, and smirked at him. "At least I got you in the water."

Flame rolled his eyes, "Whatever. I couldn't have let you swim alone anyway. You'd probably be eaten by an eel or something."

Ember giggled, "Oh Flame, eels aren't nearly big enough to eat a dragon."

As soon as the words left her lips, she uttered a startled shriek and disappeared beneath the surface of the lake.

"Ember!" Flame roared in alarm and almost dived after her. But she resurfaced beside him seconds later, laughing.

"Sorry!" she giggled, "I couldn't resist!"

It took Flame but a moment to realise she'd tricked him, and his scales heated up again in anger and embarrassment. "Ember! That wasn't funny!"

He pounced on her as she continued to giggle, almost causing the both of them to sink. The pink dragoness squirmed in his grip, laughing, "Okay! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"You better be," Flame growled, unable to hide a grin. He nipped at the soaked scales on her neck and she squirmed to get away, still giggling. Flame released her and she paddled away, flicking up water with her tailblade and sending droplets flying onto his face.

"Bet you can't catch me!" she taunted, swimming towards the middle of the lake. Flame swam after her, using his wings to help propel him through the water, and caught up with her in seconds. She yelped as he pushed her under, and quickly resurfaced.

"Guess again," the red dragon smirked, treading water beside her.

"Alright, wise guy, won't don't you try catching me this time?" she grinned and shot beneath the surface of the water.

Startled, Flame dove after her and forced his eyes to open under the water. He struggled to see in the gloom, but quickly saw a flash of pink scales ahead of him and rocketed after her. Several times he saw the dark shapes of small fish dart past him, but didn't stop to chase them. Ember was just ahead, and he was starting to run out of air. At last he could stand it no longer and shot to the surface, gasping for air.

Looking around, he saw Ember had done the same not far away. Smirking, Flame slipped soundlessly under the water again and swam over to her paddling form. His fastened his claws around her tail and pulled her down with him. The water muffled her shriek, and she thrashed in alarm before Flame grabbed her around the waist and pulled them both up to the surface.

"Flame!" Ember gasped, her paws around his shoulders and her scales streaming with water, "That wasn't nice!"

Flame grinned roguishly, nuzzling her neck, "Think of it as revenge for tricking me."

Ember cooed with laughter and nuzzled his snout affectionately, water trickling down her muzzle and over her closed eyes. Flame uttered a deep-throated growl of satisfaction, and gently licked the soft scales under her chin. Ember's cheeks glowed like spirit gems.

It was mostly dark by the time they crawled out of the lake and shook themselves dry. Exhausted from swimming, the two dragons collapsed together at the edge of the lake and listened to the deep croaking of the frogs hiding in the bulrushes. Yawning, Flame rested his head on Ember's shoulder, extending a wing like a blanket over her back. With a satisfied sigh, she snuggled closer to his side and rested her head on the ground against his chest.

"I really do like being with you," Ember murmured softly, rubbing her snout against the golden scales of his chest, "Flame…"

When he didn't reply, Ember raised her head to look at him and realised he had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed, and his face looked more peaceful than she had ever seen when he was awake. She felt his chest expand and fall with every breath. Smiling contentedly, she curled her tail around him and laid her head back against his chest, closing her eyes. Sleep claimed her tired body in minutes, and they lay together in slumber under the watchful eyes of the celestial moons.

Flame groaned as something pulled at the edges of his consciousness, dragging him back from the realm of dreams. In his half awake state, he wasn't quite sure what it was, only that it wasn't stopping. It was like a continuous rumble of thunder in the air, a low noise that he could only just hear. Grumbling, he cracked an eye open and quickly shut it again when bright sunlight filled his vision. The noise still continued.

Unable to sleep because of the irritating noise, Flame opened his eyes again and blinked until they adjusted to the light. It was about mid-morning, judging by the position of the sun. They had slept late. Glanced down, he saw that Ember was still asleep, pressed against his side under the shelter of his wing. He didn't want to wake her, but they had slept out here the entire night and it was likely the others were wondering where they were. Not to mention that infernal noise wasn't stopping, whatever it was.

"Ember," Flame grunted, nuzzling her gently, "Wake up."

Ember muttered a tiny moan in protest and turned her head away. Sighing, Flame stood up, untangling his tail from hers. He nudged her again, a little more roughly this time. "Come on, Ember, we need to get back."

With a groan, the pink dragoness opened her eyes and blinked a few times before stretching her wings. She looked up at Flame and yawned. It took her a moment to remember where she was.

"We slept out here all night?" she asked, standing up and stretching like a cat. The morning sun was shimmering on the surface of the pond and the frogs had stopped croaking.

"That much is obvious," Flame said, turning away, "Come on, everyone is probably wondering where we got to."

Ember made to follow him, but stopped, "Wait, Flame…what's that noise?"

He paused and looked to the sky, the low sound that had awoken him still reverberating through the air. "I'm not sure. It woke me up, though."

Ember frowned, looking around, "It sounds like…"

"Thunder?" Flame suggested helpfully.

But Ember shook her head, "No, more like…a horn."

Suddenly it clicked, and her eyes widened in shock and alarm. She whirled on Flame, but the red dragon had clearly just realised it for himself. His eyes were wide and glassy as haunting images from a year ago flashed in his mind. Warfang below him; grublins swarming through the streets; a grey dragon flying at his side; the sound of a horn reverberating in his ears.

"That's Warfang's war horn!" Flame gasped, sounding strained.

"Oh no…" Ember mumbled, "Oh no, oh no."

"We need to tell Spyro!" Flame yelled, whirling around and running back towards the tunnel through which they had left Ethra, "Come on!"

Fearfully, the sound of the horn still ringing in her head, Ember turned and cantered after him.

Blades met with a shriek of steel, and grass was flattened as paws danced across the earth. Hunter sidestepped gracefully and the tip of his opponent's blade shot by his arm, just barely missing. With a skilful flick of his wrist, he caught his opponent's sword with his own and sent it spinning out of his grip. Seconds later, Cougar found himself flat on his back, Hunter's blade tickling the furs on his throat.

"Bloody hell," the stocky feline swore. For the fifth time that morning, Hunter drew back his blade and held out his free paw to help his friend and sparring-partner back to his feet.

"Better luck next time," Hunter grinned as Cougar brushed grass off his cloak.

The stocky gold cat rolled his shoulders and moved to retrieve his fallen blade, saying, "There's not a soul in the village that's as quick with a blade as you are, Hunter. I reckon even old Prowlus would have a hard time besting you."

Hunter laughed, "You know I don't respond well to flattery. Come on, one more time."

"And you call yourself the chief's personal bodyguard?" muttered Forage. The blue-furred feline was sitting cross-legged in the grass a few metres away, Gloria the falcon perched on his knee. The pad of his paw glided smoothly over the silky feathers of her back, and she seemed to be enjoying the attention.

Cougar scoffed at the wiry blue cat, "Think you can do better, Forage? I dare you to challenge Hunter."

Forage hesitated, his green eyes flicking uncertainly from Cougar to Hunter. "I…uh, no, I'm not really the fighting sort…"

"Come on, don't be a kitten," Cougar taunted, "Everyone has to learn how to defend themselves. What if those panthers attack again, eh?"

A solemn glint appeared in Hunter's eyes as he added, "That's why we're sparring, after all. The more we practice, the more chance we have of defending our village against them."

Forage sighed and stood up, Gloria hopping off his knee, "Fine, fine, I'll play your game."

Taking the sword that Cougar offered him, the blue feline took up position opposite Hunter, his jaw set. There was a moment of silence in which nothing moved, except the wind dancing through the grass. Then Hunter darted forwards, and there was a grating clash of steel. It was over in seconds. Forage lay stock still in the grass, unarmed, Hunter's blade inches from his throat. Cougar's loud guffaws filled the air.

"It's not funny!" Forage snapped, his cheeks burning beneath his fur, knocking Hunter's blade away and sitting up. But apparently Cougar thought it was.

"That…that was pathetic!" the golden cat laughed, clutching his sides, "You should have seen your face when he knocked you down!"

Forage opened his mouth to respond indignantly, when another's peels of laughter rent the air, mingling with Cougar's. The three feline turned their heads towards the sound. They'd been sparring just outside the walls of the village. Another cheetah was laughing at them, sitting on the high balcony of one of the huts and watching them from over the fence. Her fur was creamy yellow, with a dusting of black spots. Her eyes, which twinkled with merriment, were as blue as the sky. She was wearing a short, bright blue tunic.

"Hey," Cougar yelled, "What are you laughing at, Mari?"

"You! All of you!" the female cheetah called down, still giggling.

Forage bristled, "Well why don't you tell the whole village to come down and laugh at me!"

Ignoring the indignant blue feline, Hunter called to the female cheetah, "Why don't you come down and join us? I bet you'd be great with a sword."

Mari stopped giggling immediately, "Oh, no…I can't. I'm terrible at fighting. I'd be worse than Forage."

"That's no excuse," Hunter replied, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Cougar had crept away, "Come down and we'll teach you!"

"Yes, come and make a fool of yourself instead of me!" Forage added, still bristling with indignation. Gloria, who was now perched on his arm, gave a trill of what could have been agreement.

"I'd be terrible at it!" Mari called back, leaning over the railing of her balcony.

"Stop making excuses and come down!" Hunter laughed.

"You can't make me!"

"Can't I?" Cougar murmured suddenly, appearing behind the female cheetah. She shrieked and almost jumped out of her skin. In her distraction, she hadn't noticed him sneak back into the village and enter her hut.

With one swift movement, the stocky feline hurled her over his shoulder and turned away from the edge of the balcony, ignoring Mari's shrieks of 'Put me down!'

Seconds later he was walking back to Hunter and Forage, the struggling cheetah slung over his broad shoulder.

"Put me down, Cougar! This isn't funny!"

"I think it is," Cougar grinned, and dumped her unceremoniously on the ground in front of Hunter. She glanced up at him, her face flushed with embarrassment.

Smiling, Hunter extended a paw to help her up. When she was back on her feet, the shy cheetah looked at the ground and brushed the grass off her tunic. She raised her head to shoot a glare at Cougar, but said nothing at all.

"What happened? Did you suddenly lose your voice?" Cougar taunted, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She pushed him away, blushing.

"Shut up, you're the one you kidnapped me."

"I'd hardly call it kidnapping," Hunter pointed out, and Mari turned her blue-eyed glare on him. He quickly shut his mouth.

"You _were _laughing at us," Cougar said.

"I was laughing at _you_ because you're so…so…"

"Handsome? Charming? Funny?"

"Idiotic," Mari deadpanned, glaring at him.

"Ouch," Cougar muttered, holding a hand to his heart, "I'm wounded."

"I'll give you a wound to whine about," Mari muttered under her breath, folding her arms. Hunter glanced from her to Cougar, looking amused.

"Anyone up for some more sparring?" he asked.

Mari raised her head and jerked her thumb at Cougar, "Only if I get to fight this idiot."

"Yeah sure, you won't last a second!" Cougar scoffed, flashing a jaunty smile.

"I will if we make it no weapons!" Mari pointed out, pointing a claw at his chest, "Wrestle match – like we used to when we were cubs."

Mari and Cougar were cousins, though they were as close as siblings. It wasn't uncommon to see them arguing.

Cougar grinned and flexed his claws, "You're on."

Hunter took a step away, but before they could do anything, something happened that distracted them all. Gloria took flight with a shriek as the loud note of the war horn rent the air. Mari looked to the sky, her bright blue eyes filled with confusion, but she was the only one. The other three knew what it was the instant they heard it.

"No," Hunter muttered, his fists clenching, "_No_. I _told_ Prowlus this would happen!"

Cougar was already running for the village, yelling, "We need to rally the warriors! I'll get the chief!"

"What? What's going on?" Mari asked, confused, wondering whether to run after Cougar or not, "What's that noise?"

"That's Warfang's war horn. The dragon city is in danger," Hunter growled. He grabbed Mari's shoulders, "Get back to the village and stay there. We're going to help the dragons."

"But…" Mari began, only to be cut off when Chief Prowlus came running up, more than half the village at his back.

"To the Forbidden Passage, Hunter!" the chief yelled, "We've no time to lose!"

"We'll be back!" Hunter told Mari quickly, and turned away before she could respond.

Forage held his arm out and Gloria alighted on it once more. "Go," he told her, "Let them know we're on our way."

The grey and white falcon took flight in a flurry of feathers. In seconds she was no more than a black dot in the cloud-choked sky.

Mari just stood there, stunned and unmoving as every able-bodied fighter in the village surged past her. They disappeared into the forest towards the Forbidden Passage, and she was left alone in an empty field, the wind ruffling the end of her tunic. A part of her still wasn't sure what was going on.

Silently, she clasped her paws in front of her chest and hoped for their safe return.

"Spyro!"

The purple dragon was standing talking to Selador outside her temple when he heard someone yell his name. Both he and the adult dragoness turned their heads towards the sound, and beheld Flame running towards them like Malefor himself was chasing him. Ember was hard on his tail.

"Spyro! The war horn!" Flame yelled, his voice catching in desperation.

"Flame! We wondered where you'd got to," Spyro responded, not taking in what the red dragon had yelled, "We were going to have a bit of a sparring match in the courtyard for the young dragons. Did you want to come?"

Flame skidded to a halt in front of the purple dragon, gasping for air, "Spyro, there's no time! We were just outside and we heard…!"

He broke off, panting, his dash down the tunnel having winded him. Spyro frowned.

"Heard what?"

"Th-the war horn!" Ember finished for him, also panting, her eyes wide and worried, "Oh Spyro, the city must be in danger! Just like last time, when those grublins attacked. It must be those horrible panthers! We have to do something!"

Spyro felt like the world had just dropped out from under him. His head spun and a strange buzzing filled his ears. A hot, ill feeling of dread spread through his stomach, and for a moment his heart felt like it had stopped. His mouth had turned dry; he barely registered that Flame was saying something.

"…get back to the city! We have to help!" the red dragon was snarling, fidgeting angrily, "I can't believe those bastard panthers would attack Warfang! When I get my claws on them…!"

"Go," Spyro rasped out, and everyone stared at him. He gulped soundlessly and tried again, "Go…to Warfang. We must help them!"

"Where is everyone else?" Flame demanded. Selador sprang into action.

"They should all be at the courtyard," she said smartly, "Listen to me, all of you. I want you to get to the main tunnel that leads out of here. I'll rally everyone else and meet you there in a few minutes. Do _not _leave without us. If Warfang really is in danger, you're going to need all the help you can get."

"Right," Flame agreed and spun around, "Come on, let's get going! Spyro!"

The purple dragon snapped out of his horrified stupor when Flame snapped his name, and quickly ran after him and Ember. Selador was already flying towards the courtyard. They made it to the opening of the tunnel that led outside just as Cynder and the others flew to meet them.

"Spyro!" Cynder called, landing lightly next to him, "What's going on? Selador just said to meet you here. She said it was urgent!"

"Something's attacking us, isn't it!" exclaimed Sparx as he nibbled the ends of his fingers, "I knew I should have stayed home!"

Cynder yanked him out of the air with her tail. Trust Sparx to overreact.

"Warfang's in danger!" Spyro yelped, his eyes wide with fear, "Flame and Ember heard the war horn! We need to get back to the city as fast as we can!"

"Warfang?" Sparx stopped nibbling his fingers, "Oh, well, as long as it's not us. Wait, you want to go _back _to the city?"

Cynder looked worried for a moment, before she frowned, "But we're already on a quest, Spyro. The _Chronicler_ has summoned you! We can't just turn around now!"

Spyro's eyes flashed with anger, "You want to just ignore Warfang's peril? To desert everyone in the city?"

"You feeling ok, Spyro?" Sparx asked anxiously, "You seem a little…edgy."

"There are more than enough dragons to defend the city, Spyro!" Cynder argued, "The guardians are there; Seriphos and the whole guard is there; they don't need us! We'd hardly make a difference being there! Why abandon our mission now when returning will hardly do any good? You're not thinking straight!"

"I'm thinking fine!" Spyro snapped, ignoring Sparx, "I'm thinking about what's best for everyone in Warfang! You're just thinking about yourself! Admit it; you're afraid to go back there when there could be danger!"

Cynder faltered, surprised by his response. She frowned, "Of course I'm not afraid. We've faced danger before, Spyro. But I don't believe returning to the city will do us any good."

"Cynder might have a point, Spyro," Saffron added, walking up from behind the black dragoness, "Warfang's walls are almost impenetrable, and anyone'll have a hard time getting past Seriphos's Guard. What we need to do is find the Chronicler and find out what he needs to tell you. Heading back to Warfang will only delay us."

Spyro wavered, looking from Cynder to the yellow dragoness. His eyes narrowed and he snarled, "You're just afraid of putting yourself in danger!"

"Hey! Don't talk to her like that!" Zannak scowled, moving to his sister's side, "She's just trying to help you see reason!"

"Right," Ciro added, frowning at Spyro's angry scowl, "They've got a point, you know. Going back to Warfang now really won't accomplish anything. How can a few young dragons like us really help?"

Beside him, Zephira nodded silently in agreement, her eyes downcast. Spyro stared at them all incredulously.

"You know, for once you guys are actually talking sense," Sparx added, nodding sagely, "Hey, maybe we should listen to them, Spyro." But the purple dragon seemed beyond reasoning.

"You…why…why are you all acting so cowardly!" he yelled, eyes glowing with anger, "What's wrong with you all?"

"There's a difference between cowardliness and common sense, Spyro!" Cynder argued, but Spyro wouldn't hear it. Anger was coursing through his veins, and he couldn't control it.

"Admit it!" he roared, "None of you care what happens to Warfang! You couldn't care less if the guardians were killed, if the city was overtaken! You're all cowards!"

Kazan pushed his way to the front, glaring at Spyro, "Don't insult us like that! Of course we care about the city!"

"Then why are all acting so cowardly?" Spyro snarled.

"You're the one who's acting strange, Spyro!" Cynder yelled, "What's gotten into you! You've never acted like this before!"

Spyro whirled on her furiously, "So now it's me who's wrong? Yes, it's always me, isn't it? If I'm always so wrong, why do you rely on me so much? You can't do anything without the help of the _mighty_ purple dragon! You're all pathetic!"

"Whoa…calm down, man," Sparx cut in, his voice shaking. He looked at his surrogate brother with a mixture of confusion and concern. Spyro never yelled like this, _ever_. And Sparx knew him better than anyone.

"Calm down? You want me to _calm_ _down_?" Spyro spat, turning furious eyes on the startled dragonfly, "Though I shouldn't be surprised! You've always been a coward; only ever cared about your own skin! Well I've got news for you! The world doesn't revolve around _you_!"

Sparx looked as though he'd been slapped in the face; hurt and confusion registered in his expression. Perhaps it was the way his scales began to darken, or the way his voice started to deepen and warp, but something about him in that moment worried his friends. But before he could do anything else, Flame had rammed into him like an attacking Death Hound. The purple dragon found himself lying on the ground, Flame pinning him down.

"Knock it off, Spyro," the red dragon snapped, "You're making a scene. I'm worried about Warfang too, but there's no need to blow your top and start yelling at our friends!"

Spyro blinked, looked dazed for a moment, and glanced at the worried faces of his friends. He suddenly felt ridiculous and ashamed. Rolling onto his side, he stood up as Flame stepped away. Everyone was staring at him warily and he felt strangely dirty. He hadn't meant to yell like that…or had he? It had felt strangely liberating screaming his anger at them. He'd never done so before; he'd always kept his doubts, his fears, his anger locked deep inside.

"I'm…sorry," he mumbled, though he couldn't ignore the part of him that insisted he wasn't sorry at all. Had he meant what he'd said? Somewhere inside him, a bitter voice muttered '_yes_.'

Sparx didn't meet his eyes as he mumbled, "S'alright, man…"

Cynder gazed at him anxiously for a moment, "It's ok, Spyro, we all get angry sometimes. We just don't think it's a good idea to turn tail and flee back to Warfang just because of a horn. They can handle themselves."

Spyro screwed his eyes shut. A part of him wanted to agree with Cynder, but another, stronger part of him screamed 'no'. He'd always done what others wanted of him, always allowed himself to be calmed of misguided wants and ideas. Not this time. This time he was going to do what he wanted to do, regardless of what they thought.

"No," Spyro said, raising his head, eyes blazing, "I'm going. I'm going to Warfang and you can't stop me."

"Spyro!" Cynder and Sparx yelled at the same time. The purple dragon dashed into the tunnel towards the surface and disappeared into the darkness. Cynder made to run after him, but the sound of flapping wings interrupted her and she turned around. She didn't notice Sparx zip silently away into the tunnel.

Selador landed behind them, with what looked like the entire population of Ethra at her back. The young dragons look excited and not the least bit frightened. Only Roku looked serious, and his green eyes were blazing with a kind of fiery determination.  
"Where is Spyro?" Selador demanded once she noticed the absence of the purple dragon.

"He's gone to Warfang alone!" Ember exclaimed, running forwards, "Everyone decided that it would be best if we didn't return, because there were more than enough dragons at Warfang to defend it, and we need to get to the Chronicler, and returning to Warfang would only delay us! But Spyro got angry and said he was going to Warfang anyway and…!"

Selador help up a paw to interrupt the pink dragoness's babbling, "That will do, little one. I understand your view, and perhaps it would be best for you to continue your quest without interruption. But it appears Spyro will not desert Warfang, and right now he needs us to back him up. We must go after him before he puts himself in great danger."

Cynder looked up at the adult dragoness anxiously, "I've never seen him act like he did just now. He's never been angry at us like that before… Maybe we shouldn't have tried to stop him. It probably looked to him like we didn't care about the dragons at Warfang…"

Selador shook her navy head, "What has been said has been said, you cannot change that. Right now, Spyro needs us. And perhaps Warfang needs us too. I was beginning to think it was time we left Ethra, anyway."

Saffron peered around the adult dragoness at the vast crowd of chattering, excited hatchlings and asked sceptically, "You're bringing them?"

"Why not?" Selador's yellow-green eyes twinkled, "They're old enough to learn about the harshness of the outside world. They've been sheltered for far too long."

"You're coming too?" Zephira asked timidly, gazing at Roku.

The black dragon nodded once, "I'll do whatever I can to help protect your city."

"Well let's go, then!" Flame and Kazan yelled at the same time, before glaring at each other.

"There's no time to waste!" Zannak agreed, rearing onto his hind legs.

"To Warfang!" Ciro yelled.

"We're coming, Spyro," Cynder murmured, her green eyes narrowing in determination, "We'll help you defend Warfang, don't you worry."

Spyro flew as fast as he could, as though he was trying to escape from the confused emotions swirling inside him. Standing up for himself had made him feel oddly free and alive; it was exhilarating going against someone's wishes. Yes, exhilarating. But the knowledge that he was returning to Warfang alone, without his friends to back him up, made him feel so very lonely. It felt like they'd betrayed him somehow, deserted him when he needed them most. Weren't they supposed to stick with him no matter what?

Sparx's hurt face swam through his mind's eye, and a feeling of remorse made his heart twinge. The dragonfly hadn't deserved to be yelled at like that, especially by his brother. They'd always had their disagreements and their petty arguments, but Spyro had never poured all his rage onto his brother like that before. He couldn't shake the memory of the dragonfly's wounded expression.

Shaking his head to clear the depressing thoughts, Spyro set his eyes on the horizon and the fuzzy blob that was Warfang city. It would take him hours to reach it at this rate. Groaning, he strained his wings in an attempt to fly faster. The wind snapped at his scales, catching his wings, slowing him down. He had to go faster.

"Spyro!"

For a moment the purple dragon thought he heard someone yell his name. But he decided he must have imagined it, and continued his battle with the winds that were hindering him. He was flying as fast as he could, but it wasn't fast enough. His wings were starting to ache.

"Spyro!"

There it was again, that voice calling his name. Did he dare look back? But he convinced himself it was only the howling of the wind. The others wouldn't be calling him. They'd deserted him after all. He was all alone.

The wind stung his eyes, drawing tears from their ducts and sending them flying. Spyro screwed his eyes shut, stretching his paws out in front, straining his wings to beat faster. The joints of his wings were starting to burn like fire shooting through the bone. He had to go faster.

"Do you really think you can fly faster than me, purple boy?" a voice said in his ear suddenly. Spyro faltered, his speed dropping, and he saw something yellow zip in front of his vision.

"Sparx!" he cried out, the wind almost whipping his words away. The dragonfly grinned at him. There was no trace of the hurt that had marred his expression only moments before. Spyro stared at him guiltily.

"You didn't think I'd let you go alone, did you?" Sparx scoffed, "We're in this together, just like every other time!"

Had he forgiven him already? Spyro shook his head. That was just like Sparx, never holding a grudge for too long. But they were brothers after all. He made a mental note to apologise to the dragonfly later.

Spyro felt a grin pull at his mouth, "I knew I could count on you, Sparx."

"You know it! Now let's go save those dragons!" he pointed dramatically towards the blob on the horizon that was Warfang, "Sparx to the rescue!"

Spyro groaned as he forced his burning wings to flap harder. He caught up to Sparx again, but began to drop back as fatigue got the better of him. He couldn't keep this up all the way to Warfang. It was just too tiring.

"You know, if you didn't have all that _weight_, you could probably fly faster!"

"Not helping, Sparx!"

"Then maybe this will help!" yelled a female voice, and suddenly Spyro felt a strange push from behind, as though the winds had suddenly changed direction and were blowing in his favour.

Startled, he turned his head to see Cynder flying inches back from the tip of his tale, her emerald eyes glimmering challengingly. She must have used her wind element, Spyro realised with a jolt. But why was she here?  
"What are you doing, Cynder?" he yelled back, "I thought you didn't want to go back to Warfang!"

"We're in this together, Spyro, no matter what!" was her shouted answer, "_All_ of us!"

It was then that Spyro saw the group of dragons slowly catching up to him. He spotted every one of his friends among the dragons of Ethra, Selador at their head. A pleasantly warm feeling washed through his body from the end of his tail to the tip of his snout. They hadn't deserted him after all.

"You…you came."

"Of course we did," Cynder called over the wind, "We wouldn't let you go alone. We're your friends, and we'll always have your back! No matter what happens!"

For a moment their eyes met and Spyro gazed into her emerald orbs, trying to convey just how very grateful he was to all of them. She smiled gently, and he was sure she'd understood. Suddenly Selador shot by them, shouting.

"Wind dragons to the back! Give us a boost!"

Instantly, all the young wind dragons converged behind the rest. Spyro spotted Domino, Roku's little brother, joining them. There was a sudden gush of wind from behind, and Spyro felt himself rocket forwards along with everyone else. Now they were flying fast – faster than he'd ever dreamed of.

"Come on, Spyro, we can help too!" Cynder yelled and banked hard, converging with the wind dragons behind.

Spyro hesitated. He still wasn't entirely adept with wind yet, and wasn't sure he'd be able to help. But suddenly Zephira was beside him, and her eyes were glowing with a confidence he'd never seen in her before.

"Come _on_, Spyro!" she snapped, sounding more like Saffron than herself, "You _can _do this! Drop back!"

"But-!"

"Drop back!"

Spyro groaned and did as she demanding, dropping back to join the wind dragons. He found himself between Cynder and Zephira. The white dragoness glanced at him.

"Just breathe in," she called over the wind, "and let it all out! I know you've got it in you! There is wind in your veins; it will listen to you!"

Spyro took a deep breath, shut his eyes tight, and exhaled. He felt the wind inside him expand, felt it pulling at his insides, felt it nipping at his scales. He forced it around himself and felt it catch his wings and push him along. Then suddenly he was rocketing through the sky, faster than any dragons had ever flown before – at least, that was what it felt like. He saw Selador and the rest of the non-wind dragons ahead, riding his wind, and felt a thrill of accomplishment.

"I'm doing it!"

Zephira practically glowed, "I knew you could!"

They ripped through the cloudy skies as thunder rumbled and rain began to fall, Warfang growing ever closer. At this speed, they'd be there within the hour. Spyro fixed his eyes on the ever growing city, suddenly feeling empowered and free.

"We're coming, Warfang. We're on our way."

The panthers were in trouble. Though their numbers may have been nigh on equal with the dragons, their lack of elemental magic and flight meant that they were fighting a losing battle. The dragons had stopped trying to close the gates and were instead focusing on pushing the panthers back to the gates. With the aid of their wings, this was only too easy.

When the war horn had alerted the rest of the city, even more dragons had joined the battle, and they were fighting with a strength the panthers hadn't expected.

They'd almost reached the centre of the city when things started going wrong. A whole barricade of dragons had seemingly been waiting for them, led by two dragons that looked just as old as the green guardian had been. Skelos was willing to bet anything that these were two of the other guardians that Nyx had mentioned.

"Foul beasts!" Cyril yelled at the panthers as they swarmed towards him and the other dragons, "Have you no honour? The ancestors themselves would be appalled by your horrendous behaviour!"

"Now isn't the time to be lecturing them, Cyril," Thasos sighed, landing next to his fellow guardian, "Besides, I don't think honour is the first thing on their minds."

There was a sudden scream from beside them and an almighty crack of thunder, and Volteer landed heavily behind them. The lightning strike he'd just called down from the storm clouds had caused catastrophic damage. There was a melted hole in the cobblestones, surrounded by the scorched, unmoving bodies of several panthers. The acrid smell of singed fur filled the area.

"Yes, these mongrels, fiends, beasts are no better than scoundrels and rapscallions!" The electricity guardian snorted, stamping the ground in anger, his scales rippling with voltage, "That care not for such trifles as honour, respect, reputation, nobility…!"

"That will do, Volteer!" Cyril shoved the yellow guardian out of his way, breathing a fine mist of ice over a trio of attacking panthers and turning them all into frozen statues, "Now is not the time for your incessant blabbering!"

"Watch out!" Thasos yelled.

The panthers swarmed around the guardians, attempting to block them off from the rest of the dragons. More bolts of lightning shot from the clouds, and were directed by Volteer into the throngs of black cats. Screams rent the air. Thasos flames swept through the crowd, but the felines kept coming, an endless wave. Suddenly, something caught Cyril's eye.

"I believe I've just had an idea," he muttered to Volteer, "I may require the assistance of your…barbaric electricity."

The ice guardian didn't stop to listen to Volteer's indignant babbling as he tried, with the help of numerous syllables, to defend the element of electricity. Instead, Cyril barged through the melee of panthers, heading for the trough of water built into the cobblestones. It was one of many situated throughout the city, where the citizens usually got their water from. And it had given Cyril an idea.

"Now, what in the name of the ancestors are you endeavouring, attempting, trying to accomplish, Cyril?" Volteer yelled over the sound of battle, "The tussle is over here you foolish, imprudent, irrational-!"

"Volteer!" Cyril roared as he braced himself and focused all his power on the water in the trough, "SHUT UP!"

The water exploded from the trough with all the force of a volcanic eruption, soaring high over Cyril's head like a tidal wave. The panthers gazed at the curving arch of water with awe, and to them it seemed to move in slow motion. Suddenly Volteer understood, and he rose up on his hinds legs as pulses of voltage leapt from his jaws. The wave of water crashed to the cobblestones with a rushing roar, engulfing the crowd of panthers, electricity now dancing across its surface.

The screams of panthers were cut short as they were submerged in the electric-charged tsunami, and crushed against the cobblestones. The lucky cats fled from the deadly wave, jostling each other in their desperation to escape. It was over in seconds, and the streets were left soaked and littered with the bodies of the unfortunate panthers. Electricity still sparked over the wet stones.

Cyril stood by the now-empty trough, panting heavily. But moments later he had straightened up and retrieved that proud expression he always wore, as though nothing had happened. Volteer was looking around at the carnage with an elated expression on his face.

"…excellent, ingenious, inspired, outstanding! What an extraordinary initiative!"

Cyril sniffed icily, "You weren't saying that a few moments ago."

Thasos stared at them both incredulously. He shook his head and murmured, "I think those panthers would be fools to mess with the two of you again."

The way that Cyril puffed out his violet chest made Thasos sure the ice guardian had heard the compliment.

"This isn't good, Skulk," Skelos muttered as the twins backed up with the rest of their warriors. They had been among the lucky ones who hadn't been in the immediate vicinity during Cyril and Volteer's combined attack. Now they were being pushed back towards the gates.

"Tell me something I don't know," Skulk snapped, slashing at an attacking dragon only to miss as it took to the sky. He dived to the side as a blast of flame scorched the cobblestones where he had been standing.

"We've learned enough," Skelos continued, helping his twin back to his feet while fending off a dragon with his staff at the same time. "If we don't get out of here soon, we could all be history."

Skulk spat at the ground, "I hate running from my enemies."

"Would you rather die?" Skelos growled wryly. They could see the main gates again, and most of their warriors were being funnelled towards it. The dragons were winning, that much was apparent.

Skulk opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted when Silt came running up to him and his brother.

"Masters!" cried the orange-eyed panther, "The cheetahs have come from the Forbidden Passage! They're heading through the city as we speak!"

Skelos's eyes widened, "What?"

But before any of them could say anything else, Orpheus was running towards them yelling, "There are dragons heading towards the city! A whole group of them!"

Skulk whirled around, "More dragons?"

Skelos ground his teeth, "That's it, we're done here. With the cheetahs and those new dragons, we'll be outnumbered! Let's get out of here while we're still alive!"

"But Skelos…!" Skulk argued angrily, whirling on his twin.

"I'm not going to let my warriors die because of your stubbornness!" Skelos yelled, and Skulk took a step back, "Let's just get out of here!"

There was a shriek and a roar, and everyone turned towards the sound to see the new arrivals soar over the wall and into the city. Skelos's eyes settled on a dragon that stood out more than any other – a dragon with vibrant, unusually-coloured scales. His ocean-blue eyes darkened.

"The purple dragon…he's back. Now we _really_ need to go, before things get nasty."

Skelos turned on his heel and yelled, "Retreat! Leave the city! Retreat through the main gates! Do you hear me! Retreat!"

The ocean of panthers seemed to hesitate for a moment, before they all rushed for the gates. The dragon stepped aside as the cats swarmed past them, not even bothering to attack. Out of the corner of his eye, Skelos saw the purple dragon leap into the fray of retreating panthers. They were running away, and yet he was still attacking them. Skelos scowled angrily, but didn't stop.

A red dragon with a long fiery crest along his back blocked the panther's way, his eyes blazing angrily. Fire was clinging to the scales on his paws, but didn't seem to harm him in any way.

"You think you can just run away after attacking my city? Think again!" the red dragon roared. Skelos sneered at him; he was barely half the size of a full-grown dragon – no match for a skilled fighter like him.

"Out of my way, you scaly lizard!" Skelos snarled, and slashed at him with his staff. The red dragon gave a yelp of pain as the pointed end of Skelos's staff cut deep into his scales. He fell sideways in a spray of blood.

"Kazan!" Skelos heard someone yell as he jumped over the fallen dragon and ran for the gates.

"Wait!" someone grabbed Skelos's upper arm, halting him. He spun around to see his twin brother glaring at him.

"What, Skulk?" Skelos snapped, "We need to get everyone away from here!"

"Just listen to me!" Skulk growled, tightening his grip on Skelos's arm, "I've just had an idea!"

"Well be quick!"

Skulk lowered his voice and hissed, "I'm going to set a trap for the purple dragon. If we get him out of the way, we'll have a better chance of taking Warfang next time."

Skelos hesitated, panthers rushing past him on their way to the gates, "What do you need?"

"Just a few able-bodied panthers and a distraction long enough for us to hide."

"Fine." Skelos grabbed the attention of the nearest ten panthers, and beckoned them over. Skulk quickly explained what he wanted, and Skelos nodded grimly.

"I'll distract the dragons and get the rest of the panthers out of the city. You do what you need to do to pull this off. Good luck, and try not to die."

"Same to you!" Skulk yelled as Skelos ran off.

Skelos ignored his twin brother and quickly herded up the remaining panthers in the city. Brandishing his staff and unable to shake the feeling that this was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, the panther screamed out a single word, and ran.

"_Charrrrrrge_!"

As he and the panthers behind him charged the dragons, he saw the cheetahs running through the streets towards them, ready to join in. They clashed with yells of rage and defiance, blades screeching and bowstrings twanging. In the confusion, no one noticed Skulk and his ten panthers slip away into the city.

When he was sure Skulk had managed to hide himself and his ten assistants, Skelos called his panthers off and they ran for the gates. The dragons and cheetahs pursued them, but most escaped the city alive. The dragons forced the mighty gates closed and Skelos felt the ground rumble as they slammed shut. Vaguely he noticed the rain was now falling in a steady sheet, soaking him and all his warriors to the bone. Groaning, he trudged with the rest of his warriors away from the city, thunder rumbling in their wake.

'_It all rests on you now, Skulk,'_ Skelos thought, _'Let's see if you can scrape a small victory out of a massive failure.'_

As they retreated from the city, Skelos thought he heard the victorious cheer of the dragons ringing through the rain. Somehow, that made him feel even worse.

**A/N: Hello again! Did that chapter satisfy you? Maybe a bit? I felt the need to add some Flame/Ember fluff in this chapter. They are my favourite pairing, after all. ^^ Another point I keep forgetting to mention: Alta's brother hasn't appeared since the very start of the first chapter. But don't worry, he does have a role in this story, and he will appear later on.**

**Guess what? Someone is gonna die next chapter! Can you guess who it is?**

**I also had a thought a while ago. This story could probably be split into three or four parts. I'd say that, at the end of the next chapter, the first part of the story will be over. After that, Hunter's going to become a particularly central character and we're gonna see a lot more of the cheetahs.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry or taking so long to update. I'll try not to make you wait so long again. No promises, though. :P**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Oooooh, a quick update! You reviewers are all so nice to me, I figured I'd be nice to you. You know, I wrote this whole thing in two days. Eeyup. And it WAS longer, but GoldenGriffiness forced me to cut it off. :P But she's awesome, so you know, I guess I can let it slide. Ahem, some of you guessed who was gonna die next chapter. Let's see if anyone was right...**

**14.**

The first emotion he felt was rage. He saw panthers swarming through the city they'd worked so hard to repair; saw citizens fighting that had long wished for peace; saw the blood of innocent dragons staining the streets of Warfang red. It didn't seem to matter that the panthers were trying to flee; all that mattered was that they suffered for what they had done.

That was all that was running through Spyro's hazy mind as he soared over the city walls and descended towards the fight. He wasn't even aware anymore of the friends at his side. They didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered, except revenge.

A scream of rage tore itself from Spyro's throat as he flung himself heavily on a pair of fleeing panthers. They yelled as they were brought down by his claws, as their blood was sprayed across the cobblestones. Flecks of blood fell upon Spyro's muzzle, but he didn't notice. Nor did he notice that his once violet scales had darkened to murky indigo. Suddenly he felt alive with power. All the power of life and death.

Somewhere beyond the haze of rage and bloodlust, he heard a voice calling his name. It was almost inaudible amidst the ringing that had filled his ears, and he payed it no attention. Rain gushed from the storm clouds, soaking him to the bone, mingling with the blood on his scales. Panicked panthers fled from the dark purple dragon but he chased them down like rabbits, yearning for their blood.

'_How dare you? How dare you do this?' _Spyro wasn't sure if he had yelled the words aloud or just screamed them in his mind. His head was filled with screaming and pulsing, hot rage.

A panther tried to attack the purple dragon as he chased the felines down, but his yell was cut short when he was frozen in glistening ice. Halting the flow of icy air from his jaws, Spyro smashed his tail through the frozen statue of the panther. It broke into hundreds of shards. Blood-flecked shards.

Another turned to try his luck, but died screaming as white-hot flames melted the skin from his bones. Spears of stone impaled those who tried to run; electricity stopped the hearts of those who tried to defend. And then, suddenly, there was lava gushing from his jaws, spreading over the ground. It hissed and melted the stones, entrapping unfortunate panthers and delivering them slow, fiery death. The rain falling from the sky hissed and turned to steam upon contact with the slow moving, fiery mass.

Spyro felt elated. He'd mastered lava. For the first time he was actually using lava. And it felt incredible. It felt as though he'd never held such power in his jaws; for a moment even the unstoppable power of convexity was forgotten to him. He had all the power of the explosive volcanoes inside himself; his very scales tingled with it.

Voices were calling to him, telling him to stop, but he didn't hear. He heard only the enticing hiss of the lava as it spread and hardened, and the screams of his dying enemies. For the first time in his life, those screams were like music to his ears. He cherished the sound.

'_My revenge. You won't hurt us again. My revenge.'_

"Spyro! Is that _lava_?"

Sparx. Spyro heard him now. He sounded amazed and terrified at the same time, if that was possible. The flow of lava from the purple dragon's jaws ceased and he sat back to admire the destruction he'd caused. For once he enjoyed the sight of the carnage.

"_Charrrrge_!"

Spyro bared his teeth when he heard the yell, and saw the fleeing panthers turn and run back towards him. He was ready for them; they would all die at his claws if need be. His claws met the blade of a black cat with a harsh grating sound, and he was pushed back a few inches. Snarling, Spyro went for the throat.

Not far from the battlefield, a young green dragon watched from a window. The infirmary was mostly empty, but from his room Chasm had a fair view of the gates through the haze of rain. Some buildings blocked his vision, but what he could see was enough. Still swathed in bandages, he observed with bitter satisfaction the purple dragon fighting tooth and claw against the panthers.

"Kill him," he kept repeating under his breath, his hazel eyes glaring, "Kill him."

But Spyro fought well and it was the panthers that fell, not him. Angrily, Chasm gnashed his teeth and wished half-heartedly that he was out there, fighting to kill the purple dragon that had maimed him. Fighting alongside…the panthers?

The young earth dragon stopped and blinked, the sudden thought catching him off guard. It wasn't something he expected to want, but the more he thought about it, the more it started making sense. Those cats wanted to kill Spyro, just like Chasm did. And, if they somehow got him all alone, they had the numbers to do it. Resting his head on the window sill, Chasm stared out at the battlefield and let his thoughts run wild. Raindrops pattered on the windowsill, dampening his paws.

There wasn't much he wanted now. Except to witness the purple dragon's demise, and take his dragoness all for himself. A bitter smile curled Chasm's mouth. He was still smiling as the panthers turned and fled the city, and the dragons gave a shout of victory.

One day.

"Spyro?"

Cynder stepped around the fallen bodies of black-furred cats as she approached the purple dragon. His scales seemed darker than usual and he was staring away from her, towards the gates the panthers had just fled through. Rivulets of water ran down his scales as the skies continued to pour. She could only see his back, but his tail was streaked with blood that she wasn't sure was his.

But that wasn't that which scared her; it was the strange aura that surrounded him. It reminded her of someone she never wanted to be reminded about. A dragon that still, on lonely nights, would haunt her dreams and turn them to nightmares.

He turned around suddenly, in response to her voice, and the site of his face caused shivers to creep across her scales. Blood coated his fangs and flecked the scales on his muzzle. His eyes were wide and filled with a kind of murderous excitement, not an expression Cynder had ever expected to see on his face. It looked almost like he had enjoyed killing.

"Look, Cynder!" he exclaimed, and his voice sounded no different to how it usually did, "We defeated them! I knew they'd be no match for us. Look at the damage we've done to their forces! It's amazing, isn't it?"

"You ok, buddy?" Sparx asked unsurely, hovering nervously by Cynder's head. He was ringing his tiny hands and staring at Spyro like he hardly recognised him. But the purple dragon hardly seemed to notice. He just smiled at Sparx like he always did – but his grin was coated in blood.

Cynder stared at him, horrified. He sounded _happy_ that he was surrounded by his dead enemies. But the Spyro she knew wasn't like that at all; he was kind and thoughtful, and only fought when it was necessary. And she knew it wasn't in his nature to kill unnecessarily.

"What's wrong, Cynder?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned as he approached her. But his eyes were still glowing with the memory of bloodlust.

"You…look at yourself, Spyro!" the black dragoness gasped, staring at him incredulously.

The purple dragon frowned, confused, "What? Aren't you happy that we won?"

"H-happy?" Cynder trembled, "How could this make me happy? All this death…it isn't something to be proud of!"

Spyro stared at her, "But they were our enemies, Cynder. They attacked _us_. They deserved it."

Cynder struck so quickly that Spyro didn't have a chance to dodge. Her paw struck his face with such force that his head jerked to the side and he stumbled. Sparx gave a start, surprised by the movement, and stared accusingly at Cynder, as though he hadn't understood why she'd done it.

"Snap out of it!" the black dragoness snapped, lashing her tail. Sparx thought he heard barely hidden fear lingering in her voice.

Spyro stared at the ground for a moment, blinking and looking dazed. The darkness on his scales melted away, and he was once again a bright shade of violet. Blood still flecked his face and claws, and there were two shallow scratches on his cheek where Cynder's claws had nicked him. The purple dragon raised his head and stared at her.

"Cynder? Why did you hit me?" he sounded confused, and a little hurt.

"Yeah," Sparx agreed, folding his arms, "That was uncalled for. I think. Although, you were being kind of…weird, Spyro."

Cynder's shoulders drooped in relief, "I'm sorry, Spyro, but you were acting strange. It scared me."

"Oh…" Spyro stared at his paws, "I'm sorry. I guess I just…lost control again."

But the more he thought about it, the more he realised that wasn't the entire truth. Something about it had seemed different this time. This time he'd been entirely aware of what he'd been doing. The emotions he'd felt – rage, frustration, the satisfaction of seeing his enemies die – they'd all been his.

Cynder gazed upon him with concern, "You've been losing control a lot lately, Spyro. Maybe…maybe we should talk to the guardians. They might be able to help you overcome this."

Sparx scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Yeah right, tell the old geezers. I'm sure _they_ could help." His tone was heavy with sarcasm. Cynder just glared at him.

"Yeah…" Spyro murmured half-heartedly, his head still full of thoughts. Droplets of rain splattered against his muzzle, washing away the blood that stained his scales.

Every time he'd lost control before, it had been like a beast had taken control of his body. He'd been like a spectator within his own mind, unable to think or feel, only watch in a daze. Often, he remembered hardly anything of what happened during those times. But this time hadn't been like that at all.

He could still feel the lingering bloodlust under his scales; still taste the elation of killing.

"It'll be ok, Spyro," Cynder promised him, her emerald eyes trying to see through to his soul, "We can fix this."

But how could he explain to her that this time had been different?

"Kazan! Are you ok?"

Kazan groaned and opened his eyes, wondering who the voice belonged to. It was definitely female, but his mind felt hazy and he couldn't place it. His vision was blurred, and he could only see coloured shapes moving above him. He could hear the roar of falling rain, and could feel the cold droplets splashing on his scales. The fire dragon attempted to move, only to feel a lance of white-hot pain shoot through his body. A gasp of agony left his lips.

"Easy there," said another voice – a male's voice, "That's a pretty nasty wound you've got. Guess that kitty got you a good one."

Kazan blinked a few times and opened his eyes again. His vision cleared and he found himself staring into a pair of brilliant violet eyes. They filled his whole vision for a moment, and for an instant he felt like he was drowning in them. Then he blinked again and the feeling was gone. Saffron was staring at him with…concern?

"Almost thought you'd died for a minute there," she said, as though she was trying to sound nonchalant, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been gored by a rampaging boar," Kazan grunted, raising his head groggily. He saw Zannak standing beside Saffron, looking at the long wound that was carved into the fire dragon's side. He craned his head to look at it himself.

It was a jagged bloody gash that ran from his shoulder all the way down to his rump, just below his wing. His crimson blood spilled over his equally crimson scales and stained the cobblestones beneath him, mingling with the puddles of water left by the rain. The site of it made him feel dizzy and nauseated.

"I don't think it's as deep as it looks," Saffron said as Kazan laid his head back on the ground again, "Otherwise you'd have probably bled to death by now."

The red dragon took a shaky breath and met her eyes again, "Where's everyone else? Are they ok?"

Saffron shook raindrops from her muzzle, "Everyone's fine. Ember was clawed across the face, but she should be ok. Cynder's with Spyro…I think he might have gone dark again, judging by his expression."

"Ciro?"

"With Zephira," she replied, "They're both fine. They're helping everyone else take care of the wounded. Master Terrador is in pretty bad shape."

Kazan licked his lips, his tongue feeling uncomfortably dry. "And the panthers?"

"Gone," it was Zannak who spoke this time, "We chased them from the city."

Gritting his teeth, Kazan raised his head again and looked over the two yellow dragons anxiously. His eyes lingered on Saffron. But the siblings seemed almost completely untouched, save for a few scratches here and there. They were drenched by the rain, and their scales shone like topaz. Zannak's teal eyes were twinkling as merrily as they always did.

"What now?" Kazan asked, wincing as more blood pulsed from his wound.

Saffron looked anxiously at him, "You should really stop moving. The moles are brining red gems to those who can't make it to the infirmary. They should be here soon. In the mean time, I'll see if I can get someone to help stop the blood flow…"

She turned around and trotted a few metres away, calling for Ciro. Kazan stared after her, not realising that Zannak was watching him curiously.

"Why's she helping?" the red dragon mumbled, "I thought she hated me."

Zannak laughed, "Saffron couldn't hate anyone. Except, you know, that jerk Chasm, those creepy panthers, anything that startles her, giant bugs…"

Ciro looked up when Saffron approached him. The ice dragon was currently freezing a cast of ice around a mole's sprained ankle, Zephira watching on anxiously. He flashed the yellow dragoness a dashing smile, green eyes twinkling.

"What's up, sunflower?"

"What have I told you about using that nickname?" Saffron snapped, but her demeanour changed quickly, "We could use your help. Kazan's suffered a pretty nasty wound. Do you think you could stop the bleeding?"

Zephira looked up, her lavender eyes worried, "Is he ok?"

"He'll be fine," Saffron said dismissively, waving a paw, "He was just too hasty in rushing into the battle, that's all. Not that I should be surprised."

Ciro gave a snort of laughter, a cloud of frosty particles curling from his nostrils only to disappear in the downpour from the sky, "Ok, lead me to him. I'll sort him out."

With a few passing words to the mole he'd been treating, the ice dragon turned and followed Saffron back to the prostrate fire dragon. Zephira trailed after them timidly, peering around her brother to get a better look at the wounded Kazan.

"What have you done this time, Kaz?" Ciro asked, grinning and shaking his head as he stood over his friend, "Being too hasty again?"

Kazan glared at the blue dragon, "Just shut up, would you."

"Now that's not a very nice way to treat a friend who's here to help you."

"If you're going to help, hurry up about it!"

Saffron sighed and turned away. She scooted over to Zephira, who was hanging back anxiously, and sat down next to her. The wind dragoness subconsciously huddled closer to her electric friend, shivering against the cold rain. Saffron thought she could see a tiny scratch just below the white dragoness's eye.

"You alright, Zeph?" she asked softly, "You seem quiet. I mean, quieter than usual."

Zephira took a deep breath and let out a sigh. She stared out at the drenched battlefield, now filled with the dead, the wounded, and everyone who was trying to help. A large crowd had gathered around Terrador, and Cyril was busy freezing the earth guardian's wounds with ice. Spyro and Cynder had moved to help the other wounded dragons.

"I'm fine…" she murmured, "Only…well, I mean…"

She sighed again and stared at her paws, "I was scared. I was scared of everything. I was so afraid I was going to die. I was so afraid for Ciro…and for you, and everyone. I was really…scared."

The white dragoness sounded almost ashamed of that fact. Saffron extended a pale wing over her friend's shoulders. Not far from them, the two dragonesses could see Flame standing over Ember, tenderly licking the wounds on her face. There was a deep cut on his tail that was dripping blood, but he hardly seemed to notice.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't scared," Saffron murmured, and smirked, "_I_ was scared."

Zephira looked at her in surprise, "You were? But I thought you weren't afraid of anything…"

Saffron gave her an odd look, "Where'd you get that idea? Of course I get scared sometimes. I'm afraid of pain, of sickness, of losing my friends… You all mean more to me than anyone else ever did. You mean more to me than my mother ever did…"

The wind dragoness heard the bitterness creep into her friend's tone at that last remark, and shifted uncomfortably. Saffron didn't like to mention her mother, but when she did her eyes always filled with unspeakable betrayal.

"I was frightened today," Saffron sighed, pressing her cheek against Zephira's, "because I thought I might lose someone I cared about. And because there was a chance _I_ would die, too. That scared me. Even if I could pretend it didn't…it would always still scare me. It's nothing to be afraid of."

"Besides," Saffron nudged the white dragoness with her rump, grinning, "if we weren't cautious, we wouldn't live for half as long. Fear is what keeps us alive, and stops us from doing stupid things. Now, Kazan on the other hand – he's an idiot. Pretends he's not scared of anything, and goes to great lengths to prove it. _That's_ stupidity. I tell you, one of these days…"

She trailed off, staring into the distance, as though she didn't want to finish that thought. Moments later she shook her head roughly and looked back at Zephira.

"Anyway, my point is, you shouldn't be ashamed to feel scared sometimes. Or something like that."

The wind dragoness giggled, "It's ok, I understand. Thanks, Saff. You always know just what to say."

Saffron shuffled her paws awkwardly, "Nah. I just make it up as I go along. I wonder if those two have stopped arguing yet…"

As it turned out, they had. Ciro had frozen a cast of ice all along Kazan's side, encasing the wound and stopping the bleeding. The red dragon didn't look too happy, though Saffron assumed it was because the ice was freezing. At least it would numb the pain though.

"Why does it…have to be so…cold?" Kazan growled through his chattering teeth.

"Stop complaining," Ciro replied, standing back to admire his handiwork, "At least you won't feel the pain anymore."

"And you won't bleed to death!" Zannak added brightly.

"Hey, Ciro," Saffron piped up suddenly, "I think a friend of yours wants your attention."

Everyone turned their heads to find the green dragoness Nalu was standing awkwardly a few meters away, her eyes on the ice dragon. Ciro brightened up almost instantly and strode over to her, not noticing Zannak's sniggers or the way Kazan rolled his eyes. The young earth dragoness gazed at him as he stopped in front of her.

"Ciro," she said, sounding breathless and slightly embarrassed, "you came back."

"Course I did," the ice dragon grinned, flashing his teeth in a dashing smile, "Couldn't leave Warfang to perish without me. Not when there are pretty dragonesses like you to protect."

Nalu blushed furiously, shuffling her paws nervously on the drenched cobblestones. Saffron stared incredulously at the earth dragoness.

"Look at her!" she exclaimed, "She's completely love-struck! With _him_? Er…no offence meant to your family, Zeph."

Zephira giggled, "Ciro always was good at charming the girls. He's had his eye on Nalu for ages. I think it's sweet that she actually likes him too."

"Sweet? Or sickly…" Kazan grunted, making a disgusted expression. Saffron slapped him on the flank with her tailblade and he winced, "Watch the injury!"

"Uh…um…" Nalu swallowed nervously, wondering what to say. Ciro seemed confused by her embarrassment.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked, sweeping his emerald gaze over her green scales. She blushed again and turned her face away.

"I, no, I'm fine," she took a deep breath, "Are you...are you ok?"

Ciro beamed, his blue scales glistening with raindrops, "Me? Never been better! We just won a battle!"

"Y-yes, it was great," Nalu stammered, "I was inside most of the time. My father told me to stay put, so I just watched from the window. But it looked terrifying. Did you fight?"

Ciro shrugged, "We were a bit late to the party, but I took a few of those nasty kittens down. But you're right…it was kinda scary."

Nalu smiled softly and, in a moment of sudden bravery, reared up and wrapped her paws around his shoulders in a hug. She stepped away seconds later, looking shocked at herself, and blushing red like fire.

"I…I…I'm glad you're back," she gasped out breathlessly, then turned tail and fled down the street. Ciro watched her go, grinning goofily, the faintest dusting of pink of his blue cheeks.

"Alright, snap out of it, lovebird," Zannak grinned, elbowing the ice dragon in the side, "Seriously though, you've gotta give me some tips. How do you get them to like you so easily?"

But Ciro was saved having to answer by Spyro and Cynder's timely arrival. With them was the black earth dragon Roku, who was being tailed by his younger brother. Domino looked as excited as usual, and not the least bit worse for wear due to the battle he'd just been in. A cut ran down Roku's cheek and down the side of his neck, but it was shallow and clotted with dried blood.

"Is everyone ok?" Cynder asked, looking them over. Her eyes rested anxiously on Kazan, who was still lying down with the ice cast on his wound.

"We're alive," Kazan pointed out wryly.

"Where are Flame and Ember?" Spyro asked, sounding worried. But Zephira pointed to them with a wing and stilled his worries.

"They're fine," the wind dragoness said softly, "Ember was hurt, but not too badly. Flame's tending to her."

"That's good," Roku said, his voice rumbling deeply, "And what about you? Are you hurt?"

A dusting of pink coloured Zephira's pale cheeks and she looked away, "N-no, I'm fine."

"That's an interesting wound," Saffron interrupted, stepping forwards to peer at Roku's neck. The black dragon turned slightly so that they could see the thin injury better.

"A cat with a thin sword," he said, his green eyes flashing darkly, "He barely managed to cut me before I brought him down."

"It was _amazing_!" Domino cried out suddenly, jumping into the middle of the group and kicking his back legs excitedly, "That cat was all _swish! _And Roku was all _bam! Smash! _And the cat fell backwards like _gwaaahhh!_ And…!"

"That will do, Domino," Roku interrupted, unsmiling. Spyro couldn't help but notice that about the black earth dragon; he was almost always serious.

"I've never encountered a panther before today," Roku admitted, shaking his head, "They seem like unpleasant beasts. They would have cut Domino down without a second thought if I hadn't stopped them in time. And he's just a hatchling… How would they feel if we attacked their cubs?"

"Who knows," Cynder murmured darkly, her eyes narrowing, "We may never know how they think."

"Where's Selador?" Spyro asked suddenly, and Roku looked back over his shoulder briefly.

"She's with Terrador. I don't think she expected to be reunited with him like this, in the aftermath of a battle." He sighed and looked at his paws, "It must be a horrible feeling to find someone you've missed for so long, only to see them injured so badly…"

Zephira stared at the black dragon. She could tell, somehow, that he was thinking of his parents as he spoke those words. Closing her eyes, the wind dragoness hoped soundlessly that, somehow, Roku's parents were at peace. Even if it was peace in death.

"If you would please stand back, everyone, this dragon needs some space!" Thasos was exasperated. The crowd of dragons surrounding Terrador were all trying to press closer to get a better look at their wounded earth guardian. There were whispers among them.

"Is he dead?"

"Look at those wounds!"

"Do you think he'll live?"

"Please, everyone, just head to the infirmary!" Thasos insisted, his voice strained, "Terrador will be fine, but he needs some air without you crowding him!"

The crowd didn't seem to hear him. The fire guardian looked to Cyril and Volteer for help, but the two guardians were hunched over Terrador and didn't notice. Getting desperate, Thasos was thinking he was going to have to force the crowd away physically, when a loud authoritative voice broke through the rain.

"Step aside, let me through! Give the wounded some space!"

A navy dragoness was pushing her way through the crowd, her tail flicking irritably, and an aura of superiority surrounding her dark scales. Dragons backed away from her, surprised by her sudden appearance and the authority in her voice. She didn't sound at all strained, unlike the fire guardian. Thasos was staring at her in disbelief.

She was a ghost; nothing more. She had to be. The dragoness standing before him was the spitting image of Selador, the earth dragoness that had been lost on the night of the raid. Thasos had believed her dead for over sixteen years. The dragoness pushing her way through the crowd could not be her; and if she was, she was nothing more than an apparition.

Selador stopped inches away from the fire guardian, as though she's just noticed him. Her eyes widened. Perhaps the crowd around them noticed the tension between the two, because they began to back away uneasily. Thasos just stared, his mouth half open, unable to find any words to say. His brain seemed to have stopped working for the moment.

"Thasos," the navy dragoness said warmly, smiling, "I hoped I'd be seeing you again. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

Her voice was as familiar to him as if he'd last heard her speak only a day ago. Thasos closed his open mouth and swallowed dryly, trying to find his voice. What could he say to her after sixteen years?

"Y-you're alive…" It wasn't the most eloquent of greetings, but Thasos's head felt like it was full of fog.

Selador laughed, "That much is certain. You look hale and hearty yourself, Thasos. I hear you're the fire guardian now."

She was alive. At last the thought got through Thasos's conscience, and a thousand questions burst in his mind. He wasn't sure which one to ask first, so he just settled with the simplest.

"H-how?"

"It's a long story," Selador replied calmly, as steady as the earth she controlled, "But you'll hear it soon enough. I told it to Spyro not long ago."

"Spyro? You've met him?" Thasos asked, surprised. He wasn't sure how many more surprising revelations his poor heart could take.

"Oh, yes, we came here with him," the navy dragoness said, brushing the question off unconcernedly.

But Thasos brow furrowed, "Spyro is here? In Warfang? I thought he went to find the Chronicler with his friends…"

Selador shook her head, "There'll be time to explain later. And don't be too hard on the young dragon. He was following his heart when he decided to return."

Thasos stared past the few lingering dragons that was all that was left of the crowd that had gathered around Terrador – clearly Selador's commanding presence had scared them all off. There he was; Spyro, sitting with his friends on the battlefield. He truly had returned. Thasos sighed.

"Perhaps," he replied, "But it would have been wiser had he followed his head."

Selador chuckled, "Isn't that always the way?"

There were hatchlings running wild through the city streets, excitedly exploring, as though the subdued battlefield had gone unnoticed by them. Skulk watched them from a dark alleyway, wondering where they'd all come from. Not that it mattered. As he saw a small brown dragon cub scamper past the mouth of the alley, the panther leader knew he'd found his target.

Without a word, he signalled to the ten panthers crouching in the shadows behind him. They nodded soundlessly and split up, creeping away to either end of the alley. Skulk didn't follow either group; instead he placed his paws against the sandstone walls and began to climb. It was tedious, trying to find claw holds in the rough stone, but Skulk was lithe and nimble, and soon he found himself atop the building.

Crouching low, he crept like a spider over the tops of buildings, always following the path of the brown dragon cub. He knew his panthers were following the hatchling on the ground. Any moment now, he would strike.

The hatchling scampered along, oblivious, trailing after his friends who were by now far ahead. He was one of those who'd left Ethra with Selador that morning, and was now eagerly exploring what was to be his knew home. He had no idea he was being stalked by panthers.

The first thing the hatchling noticed were the shadows moving out of the corner of his eyes. He hesitated and stopped, looking around in confusion. At first he didn't see anything unusual and so continued on his way. But, again, he saw the shadows flicking in and out of sight, like they were following him. Starting to feel frightened, the hatchling quickened his pace.

Out of nowhere, two dark figures appeared in front of him, standing in the middle of the street. The hatchling skidded to a halt, uttered a yelp of fright, and spun around to run. But as he ran from the dark figures behind him, he saw more appear ahead and move towards him.

Terrified, the hatching spun around, looking for a way to escape. He saw a gap between the figures and ran for it, tiny legs working like mad. But suddenly something dropped from the sky and landed right in front of him in a crouch. The hatchling skidded to a halt and watched, trembling, as the dark figure stood up.

"Hello, little one," Skulk said darkly, his blue eyes flashing cruelly, "Don't try to run. I've got a purple dragon to catch, and you're going to help me."

No one heard the hatchling's terrified scream.

Spyro and his friends were among the last to leave the battlefield. Eventually, only they and the dragons helping Terrador remained. All the rest had moved on to the infirmary, except for a few lingering injured. Spyro was helping an older dragon heal a wound on his hind leg with red crystals, when he thought he heard something. The purple dragon paused and looked up, setting down the rest of the red crystals. The old dragon thanked him gently and walked away, with only the slightest limp.

"Do you hear that?" Spyro asked Flame, who was sitting not far from him.

The red dragon looked up from healing Ember's clawed face with red gems, and frowned, "Sounds like…crying."

"There must be an injured hatchling somewhere," Spyro said anxiously, standing up, "I'll go find it."

But he'd barely taken a step before someone called him back.

"Spyro! Where do you think you're going?" He turned around to find Cynder glaring sternly at him. She'd just noticed the bleeding claw marks in the back of Spyro's neck that he'd been valiantly ignoring.

"There's a hatchling crying," Spyro replied, shifting impatiently, "It might be injured. I'm going to go find it. Stay here and help everyone."

"I don't think so, purple boy," The black dragoness answered, placing herself in his way, "You're injured and those wounds need tending to."

"But, Cynder…!"

"Let someone else go find it!" she replied smoothly, "You don't always have to play the hero. Flame, would you?"

The red dragon glanced at her, "Sorry, I'm a little busy with Ember at the moment. We don't want these wounds scarring."

The pink dragoness smiled apologetically, her face still bearing several deep scratches. Spyro looked pleadingly at the black dragoness.

"Come on, Cynder. I know you're worried about me, but that hatchling could be hurt…"

The black dragoness sighed and was about to relent, when someone spoke up from behind them.

"Don't worry, Spyro, I'll go," Ciro offered, striding over to them with Zephira on his tail, "We don't have much to do here anyway."

Spyro hesitated, "You sure? It'll only take me a minute to go find it; you don't have to worry yourself…"

"It's cool, Spyro," Ciro slapped him companionably on the back, causing him to wince as the movement jarred his injuries, "Besides, you're hurt, and I'm in top shape. Relax; I'll be back in no time. Take care of him now, Cynder."

"Oh, I will," she smiled at Spyro, who smiled weakly back, "Thank you, Ciro. It's about someone stepped up to be the hero when Spyro's out of shape."

"I'm always a hero," Ciro winked as he turned away, "You coming, sis?"

Zephira jumped, her brother's voice bringing her out of her thoughts. She looked back at Saffron, who was still tending to Kazan, but the electricity dragoness just smiled to her. Zannak was further away, helping a pair of injured moles.

"Oh…yes," the wind dragoness replied and scampered after her brother.

Kazan saw them leave and made to sit up, calling, "Hey, wait up! I'll come!"

But Saffron pushed him back down again, growling, a red crystal clenched between her fangs. She spat it out and said, "Oh, no you don't! You're staying right here before you do any more damage to that wound."

The fire dragon snorted in annoyance, but lay still anyway as Saffron applied the crystals to his wound. He'd already melted the ice cast Ciro had used to stop the bleeding with his flames. Sighing, Kazan let his eyes wander as the injury in his side slowly closed up under the gem treatment. Terrador was being assisted to the infirmary by the other guardians, limping heavily. Selador trailed behind the group, her eyes anxious. The battlefield was mostly empty now, if one didn't count the bodies of the dead that had yet to be shifted.

Kazan saw Roku and Domino not far away, talking to a tall green dragon that he recognised as Seriphos. Briefly, the fire dragon wondered how much more they'd see of the black earth dragon now that he was staying in Warfang. But then he remembered that they were supposed to be on a quest for the Chronicler, and probably wouldn't be in Warfang for much longer anyway.

'_Oh well,'_ Kazan thought to himself, _'Maybe we can get to know him when we get back. He seems like a half-decent dragon…'_

Then another thought wandered into his mind and he scowled. '_As long as he doesn't start having eyes for Saffron.'_

Ciro cantered through the streets, his sister at his side, following the sound of the hatchling's sobs. His paws splashed up water from the puddles forming in the corners of the cobblestones, and rainwater splashed in his eyes. He looked down every alley he passed, looking for the crying cub, but couldn't see it anywhere.

"Come on, where is it?" the ice dragon sighed, listening to the hatchling's cries increase in volume, "And what's it doing all the way out here? Why hasn't anyone found it yet?"

"Maybe it got scared and hid, and has only come out now," Zephira suggested, running gracefully beside her brother, raindrops sliding easily over her sleek scales, "It's probably hurt and scared, and wondering what to do."

Ciro grunted in response and trotted to a stop to listen. A few seconds passed in which he heard only the pattering of the rain on the ground. The hatchling had stopped crying. Ciro frowned, but the cries started up again moments later, and the blue dragon turned towards the sound.

"It's coming from over there. Come on."

The siblings cantered on and found themselves at one of the courtyards. Ciro looked around, but it was Zephira who saw the hatchling first. The brown dragon cub was lying near the far edge of the courtyard, sobbing, its wings splayed out across the cobblestones and rain water running over its small form.

"Oh look, there!" Zephira cried, pointing with a claw, "The poor thing!"

She galloped over to it, Ciro calling after her as he followed, "Wait up, sis!"

Zephira gently nuzzled the sobbing hatchling until it raised its head. There was a bloody lump just above its left eye and a dark bruise was forming around it. Tears streaked its small face, and its body shook with uncontrollable sobs.

"Shh," Zephira cooed, "Shh, it's ok. What happened to you?"

The hatchling took a shaky breath, broken with sobs, and replied halting, "Th-the black c-cats. Th-they h-hurt me! I…I c-couldn't get away! H-he said h-he'd k-kill me if I m-made any sound…"

Zephira scooped her wing around the little one's shaking body, murmuring softly to it. But Ciro was looking around, an odd expression on his face. He felt the scales on the back of his neck prickle, like something was watching them. Nervously, the blue dragon shifted anxiously and muttered to his sister.

"Zeph…I don't like this. Something isn't right. It feels like…like we're being watched."

But Zephira wasn't listening. She was too busy licking the hatchlings wounds and whispering words of comfort to it.

"It's alright," she was saying, "Those nasty cats are gone now."

The hatchling trembled and shook his head, his eyes wide and bright on his tear-streaked face, "N-no…they t-took me here. Th-they put me h-here and told me t-to make as m-much noise as p-possible. I-I was sc-scared…"

"Zephira," Ciro said more urgently, pawing the ground, "We need to get out of here. Now."

The white dragoness ignored him, her attention on the hatchling, "Who? Who put you here?"

The hatchling stared up at her with terrified eyes, "Th-the cats. They're…watching."

Ciro spun around just as something leapt from the roof and landed on the cobblestones behind him. A panther stood there, a pair of twin rapiers in his hands and a deadly gleam in his blue eyes. The wind ruffled his short grey tunic, and his fur was flattened by the falling rain. He strode forwards as other panthers appeared from the shadows to join him.

Ciro snarled threateningly and Zephira curled protectively around the hatchling, her eyes wide with fear. The head panther twirled his rapiers, looking somewhat annoyed.

"Well, well, looks like we caught two little birds in our trap," the black-furred feline purred coldly, his tone like ice, "Shame. We were expecting the purple dragon, not a pair of helpless lizards."

"Watch your tongue!" Ciro snapped, baring his teeth and pawing the ground, "I suggest you turn around and get out of this city if you know what's good for you!

"How terrifying," the panther replied nonchalantly, tossing one of his rapiers and catching it again deftly, "I wouldn't ever dream of fighting a _fearsome_ dragon like you."

"At least, that's what I say if you weren't so…small."

The panthers behind him laughed unkindly. Ciro snarled and gnashed his teeth, his muscles clenching in anger. He heard Zephira whimper in fear behind him, and knew he'd do anything to protect her. No one was going to touch his little sister.

"Talk all you want!" the ice dragon yelled, "I could take you all on with my eyes closed!"

The blue-eyed panther smirked, "Well, at least your ego is healthy. But I'm afraid…"

Ciro backed up to his sister as the panthers spread and surrounded them. The rapier-wielding panther strode ever closer, his blue eyes gleaming cold murder. Fear reached the ice dragon's heart. He was outnumbered.

"…I don't particularly feel like letting you live," the panther finished, baring his teeth in a horrible smile.

"Zephira, run!" Ciro yelled as the panthers rushed towards them. But the wind dragoness gave a squeak of fear and just curled herself tightly into a ball, the whimpering hatchling enshrouded by her wings.

With a snarl of anger, Ciro blasted a barrage of sharp icicles at the nearest panther. But the cat just dodged nimbly out of the way and kept coming. Another approached from the side, and Ciro screamed in pain when the panther's spear pierced his shoulder.

"Get back!" he roared, blasting them all with freezing mist from his jaws. They ducked or dodged out of the way, avoiding most of the blast. Tiny icicles formed on their fur, but didn't hinder them.

"Kill them both!" the blue-eyed panther ordered, "I want the purple dragon to know what happens to those who mess with us! Make him weep over the bodies of his murdered friends!"

Ciro bit down on the spear of a panther and yanked hard, pulling the cat down to the cobblestones. He jerked his head, tearing the spear from the cat's grip and throwing it away. As he did so, a sword blade cut through the scales on his side, leaving a burning gash. He yelled in agony.

"Zephira!" the ice dragon yelled again, "Get the hell out of here! Take that hatchling and go! I'll hold them off!"

He gave another roar of pain when one of the panther's spears pierced straight through his tail. Blood sprayed across the cobblestones and was washed away by the rain. Zephira uttered a sob of terror, not daring to even open her eyes. She could hear the commotion and the yells of her brother as he fought for dear life. Any second now they would get past him and end both her life, and that of the hatchling huddled against her.

'_Help,'_ the wind dragoness begged in her mind, _'Oh please, someone, anyone, help!'_

But no assistance came and Zephira heard Ciro's scream of pain once more. Tears of terror rolled down her colourless cheeks. She wanted to get up and do something, to help her brother, but she couldn't. She was completely paralysed with fear, and nothing Ciro yelled at her could free her.

'_Please! Somebody help!'_

"Dammit, Zephira!" Ciro roared. He kicked out madly, catching a panther in the chest, and whirled around to face his sister. With a growl of anger, he fastened his jaws around the back of her neck and pulled her up. Zephira gave a yelp of pain and staggered to her feet. Ciro shoved her roughly to the side as a panther lunged, and its blade cut deep into his chest. His scream of pain almost drowned out his next yell.

"Run, Zephira! Run! Go get help!"

"No, no, no, no," the white dragoness found herself chanting breathlessly. The hatchling was cowering on the ground now, trembling with absolute terror. Zephira grabbed it in her jaws and spun around, running for the edge of the courtyard. The panthers tried to stop her, but Ciro leapt upon them and dragged them back, ignoring the blades cutting into his scales and the blood that gushed from his body.

Tears running unchecked down her muzzle, Zephira skidded to a halt at the far edge of the courtyard and tossed the hatchling with a jerk of her head. The dragon cub squeaked in fear and flapped his tiny wings, landing awkwardly a few meters away. It looked back at Zephira with fear on its innocent face.

"Go!" Zephira begged, "Go, find help! Get someone! Anyone! Please, go!"

The hatchling sobbed and dashed away, not looking back. He tried not to hear Zephira's scream of pain that followed him down the street.

"How's that feel?"

Kazan flexed his hind leg, stretching the scales on his side where the injury had been. He felt no pain, and all that was left of the gash was a scar of discoloured scales along his side. The fire dragon assumed that scar would fade in time.

"It's fine," he said to Saffron as he rolled into a sitting position, "Thanks."

Saffron felt a smile tug at her mouth, and she was about to utter a 'your welcome' when she heard a scream. It was faint and far away, and for an instant she thought she had imagined it.

"Did you hear that?" she asked Kazan, frowning and turning her head.

The fire dragon gave her an odd look, "Hear what?"

Saffron shook her head, "It sounded like someone screaming. Maybe I imagined it. Guess I'm still a bit jumpy from the battle."

"Sit still, Spyro!" Cynder snapped as the purple dragon squirmed. She attempted to apply the red crystals to his wounds, but he kept shifting whenever she touched them.

"I'm sorry, but it stings!" he whined. Sparx was snickering with amusement.

"Watching you guys argue never gets old," the dragonfly smirked, folding his arms.

The young dragons were now the last living creatures still sitting in the middle of what had been the battlefield. Most of their wounds had been healed, and they were waiting around patiently for Ciro and Zephira to return. Roku and Zannak had struck up a conversation, which struck Saffron as odd. The two seemed like complete opposites – Zannak with his mischievous tendencies, and Roku with his level-headed seriousness. Domino was still bouncing around his older brother, somehow still full of excited energy.

"Does he ever get tired?" Kazan muttered to Saffron, watching the black and white hatchling. Saffron giggled.

Another scream rang through the air, and this time the electricity dragoness was sure she hadn't imagined it. She turned around, frowning anxiously, and saying to Kazan, "Now I'm sure I'm not imagining things. Tell me I wasn't the only one who heard that."

The fire dragon frowned, "No, I heard it to… do you think someone's in trouble?"

Saffron's frown deepened, "I can't see why. We chased all the panthers out of the city…"

Flame seemed to have heard it too. He was standing up, staring in the direction the sound had come from. Ember watched him curiously. The red dragon turned and noticed Saffron and Kazan watching.

"You heard it?" he asked gruffly. They nodded. "I don't like the sound of it…"

"Help!"

Saffron blinked. That voice was closer than the scream had been, but who was calling? She looked around, trying to find the owner of the voice, but saw no one except her friends and her brother.

"Help! Somebody!"

"Who…?" Kazan started to say, when a hatchling suddenly raced around the corner and dashed towards them. Saffron stared.

There was blood running down the hatchling's face from a wound on its forehead, and tears streaked its tiny muzzle. It looked positively terrified, and was drenched so badly by the rain it looked like a drowned rat. Sobbing uncontrollably, the brown hatchling screamed out for help again.

"S-somebody please, help them!"

It tripped and fell, sprawling face-first on the drenched cobblestones. Ember jumped up and ran to the young cub. She gently scooped it into her paws and it looked up at her with tear-filled eyes, full of terror and pain.

"Please help them," the hatchling sobbed, trembling all over, "They're d-dying. P-please."

"Who?" Ember asked gently, confused. She couldn't understand what the dragon cub meant.

But Saffron understood almost immediately. All the colour drained from her face and her legs trembled. Her mouth opened slightly, rain running down her scales and onto her tongue.

"Zephira," she gasped breathlessly. Without another word, she broke into a run, brushing past Ember and the hatchling and dashing down the street.

"Saffron!" Kazan yelled and shot after her. Ember squeaked in surprise when he ran past her.

"What's going on?" Cynder asked frantically, "What did that hatchling say?"

Ember's face had gone as white as a ghost and she stammered, "C-Ciro and Zephira must be in trouble…"

The hatchling was still crying. No one else seemed to have understood what was going on. Before anyone else could say anything, Roku stepped forwards and took charge.

"I don't know what's happened, but Zephira and Ciro might need our help," he said, "Ember, get that hatchling to the infirmary. Domino, I want you to go with her."

His little brother looked disappointed, "But…"

"Go with her!" Roku repeated sternly. Ember nodded quickly and picked the hatchling up in her mouth. She ran off, Domino following, looking back at his brother with a longing look on his face.

"The rest of you," Roku spread his silver wings, "follow me."

Saffron ran as fast as she could, rain lashing her eyes, barely managing to keep her footing on the drenched ground. Something was wrong; very wrong. That scream she had heard earlier had been Zephira, she was sure of it now. Something horrible had happened to her and Ciro. Saffron had to get to her.

'_Let them be ok,'_ she heard her conscience chanting as she ran, eyes squinted against the rain, _'Let them be ok.'_

Her paw slipped in a puddle suddenly and she almost fell, but caught herself just in time. Staggering, she wasted no time in hurrying on. Zephira needed her, and she had never let the wind dragoness down before. Her chest was tight with worry, and breathing was difficult, but she continued to run.

'_Let them be ok.'_

Anguished screams reached her ears, sending cold spikes of fear through her gut. Saffron's breaths came in short gasps. In her panicked state of mind she didn't even think of flying. She didn't hear Kazan chasing her, or notice when he slipped and fell on the drenched cobblestones. She had to get to Zephira.

The courtyard appeared through the haze of rain, and a scene revealed itself to the horrified eyes on the electricity dragoness. She skidded to a halt at the edge of the courtyard, streams of rainwater running down her scales. The world felt like it had dropped away beneath her; she was standing on nothing but a cold void. Zephira's anguished cries – grief and pain – stung her heart.

The white dragoness lay on the ground, her forepaws draped over the still body of her brother. Her white scales were stained with red, and her left wing was nothing more than a bloody, tattered mess. With every sob her body trembled, and more blood pulsed from the injuries all along her sides. The limp blue dragon beneath her paws didn't move at all. His scales were soaked in blood.

A panther stood over the dragons, his rapier raised to deliver the final blow to the sobbing wind dragon. She didn't even try to get out of the way. Her anguished voice was crying out the name of her brother over and over again.

_Ciro…Ciro…Ciro…_

Saffron could feel her heart thudding madly, and the blood pumping behind her eyes. A feeling, both burning hot and freezing cold, had washed over her body. Her tongue felt dry in her mouth. No longer did she notice the rain that splashed against her scales. A single emotion surfaced somewhere deep inside her.

Rage.

"_NO!_" a bolt of electricity left Saffron's lips at her scream, and it struck the chest of the panther standing over her friends.

Skulk fell backwards with a cry of shock, clutching at his chest and gasping for breath. The fur beneath his paw had been burned away, leaving a patch of raw skin near the centre of his chest. Snarling, he looked up to see what had hit him. A yellow dragoness stood at the edge of the courtyard, rain running down her face and her eyes burning like fire. Electricity arced from her scales.

Skulk smirked and stood up, his panthers converging behind him. For a moment the sobbing white dragoness and her brother were forgotten.

"Well, well, looks like another little bird has come to see what the fuss is about," Skulk purred cruelly, twirling his rapiers, "Come to die with your friends, have you? Your slaughtered bodies will make fine gifts for your friend the purple dragon. Kill her."

The last remark was directed at his panthers. But they'd hardly taken a step towards the electricity dragoness when her scream of rage stopped them all in their tracks. Her scales lit up with golden energy and a sudden bolt of lightning struck the ground between the panthers, followed by an almighty crack of thunder. The cats were thrown in all directions.

"Shit!" Skulk swore, rolling back to his feet, wincing as the remnants of the lightning strike arced through his body. The rest of his panthers staggered back up, too, looking shaken.

Saffron uttered another screech of rage and charged the cats, electricity sparking in her jaws. Anger dulled all of her senses and she wanted only to hurt, to maim, to kill these beasts. More lightning shot from the clouds and struck the cobblestones with tremendous claps of thunder. The panthers scattered and tried to avoid her rage, but they were brought down all too easily.

The yellow dragoness didn't realise she was yelling – she was deaf to her own screams of rage and anguish. Her body glowed with yellow light and her eyes flashed like lightning itself. A panther tried to get close to cut her down, but she leapt on him and tore him apart with her claws, not caring about the blood that stained her scales.

Lightning flashed, electricity arced from her jaws, and panthers screamed as they were destroyed inside out by the unstoppable voltage. Somehow, the lightning never touched the two dragons lying limp on the cobblestones of the courtyard. There were tears pulsing from Saffron's glowing eyes, but she didn't feel them. Nor did she feel sorrow – just rage; overwhelming rage.

Kazan saw the lightning flashes and heard the thunder when he approached the courtyard. He saw the panthers dying amidst the lashing rain, illuminated by flashes of electricity, and saw Saffron standing in the middle of it all, glowing like the sun. The fire dragon tried blindly to get closer to her, but stumbled backwards when he was almost hit by a bolt of lightning.

His eyes searched frantically and he saw Zephira and Ciro lying on the ground, somehow untouched by the electric storm. But they were covered with blood, and he wasn't even sure they were alive. Kazan felt sick; he wanted to get to do something, but he didn't know what. He wanted to help his friends, but he didn't know how.

"Saffron!" he cried from the edge of the courtyard, hoping his voice would reach her in her state of rage, "Saffron!"

But she didn't hear. Her anger blocked out everything around her.

Skulk tried telling his panthers to run, but it was already too late. They were falling, dying, and he would too if he didn't get out of there. Ducking a whip of crackling electricity that flew from the dragoness's jaws, he stared at her furious face. For a moment their eyes met and a message of pure hatred was passed between them.

Saffron would never forget that face – the blue-eyed panther with the ragged ear. And nor would Skulk ever forget the dragoness that almost killed him and slaughtered ten of his warriors.

With a snarl of anger and frustration, the blue-eyed panther turned and ran from the courtyard. He slipped into the shadows and disappeared through the haze of rain. He was gone before Saffron even realised. They were dead, all of them, but she hadn't killed enough. She wanted to make them suffer more. More.

Again Kazan tried to approach her, and would have been struck by a bolt of lightning if Roku hadn't pulled him back. The earth dragon dropped from the sky and snatched Kazan's tail in his jaws, yanking him backwards. The lightning strike sent them both tumbled head over heals. Roku was the first to jump up, and he held out a wing to stop Kazan when he tried to run to Saffron again.

"Stop!" the black dragon ordered, "You'll only get yourself hurt!"

"But…!" Kazan argued, his anguished eyes trained on the glowing yellow form in the middle of the storm. The sky above had turned a deep grey – almost black – and rain was pouring ever heavier. Thunder cracked every few seconds and lightning illuminated the courtyard.

"If you get any closer, she could kill you!" Roku growled, "She's not thinking straight!"

Saffron's screams of rage continued to rip through the rain. Kazan felt everyone else land behind him. No one tried to stop Zannak when he ran towards his sister, into the electric storm. Everyone just watched on in horror, their eyes illuminated by the flashing electricity.

"Saff!" Zannak called, his voice catching, dodging the strike of lightning that she called from the clouds, "Saff, stop!"

She didn't hear him – or she ignored him. Her screams pierced her brother's heart and hurt his ears. Rain lashed his eyes and electricity struck his flank, but he ignored it. Swishing his tail, he caught and absorbed any stray arcs of electricity that leapt from his sister's scales with his forked tailblade. Lightning struck the ground beside him and he was thrown to his side, but he staggered up again and edged closer.

"Come on, Saff!" he cried, "Stop! Just stop and open your eyes! They're gone – it's just me! Saff! Remember where you are! Remember your friends! Remember me!"

A cry of rage and grief answered him, and Zannak finally reached his sister. He ignored the electricity surrounded her body and wrapped his wings around her. She shuddered as he pulled her against his chest and Zannak winced as he felt her electricity pulse through his body. He held her tighter, shutting his eyes tight, whispering her name again and again. The glowing light around her slowly dulled and her muscles that had tightened in rage relaxed. The lightning strike ceased and the electricity arcing through the air slowly dissolved. From the edge of the courtyard, Spyro and the others watched.

"Saffron…"

A sob broke from Saffron's lips, her forehead pressed against her brother's chest, and her body trembled. Tears fell onto the black scales of Zannak's chest. He didn't let her go, just held her even tighter. The rain was easing.

Kazan stepped forwards, but Roku held him back, shaking his head. Cynder's eyes fell on the limp bodies of the wind dragoness and the ice dragon. The rain could not wash away the blood that stained them. Spyro was staring blankly, his violet eyes like hollow tunnels.

"It's ok…" Zannak murmured, but Saffron pushed away from him, shaking her head.

"N-no," she stammered and spun around. She ran to the limp form of Zephira, repeating that word over and over again. "No…no…"

Zephira's violet eyes were half open. Tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes, but hadn't fallen. Desperately, Saffron nuzzled her, trying to get a response. But the white dragoness only flopped limply, and Saffron's breathing quickened.

"N-no, no…no…"

Zannak nudged his sister gently out of the way and laid his head against Zephira's side. For a moment he was silent, his eyes closed. But then he raised his head and called out, "She's alive! Get over here! We need to get her to the infirmary right now!"

Saffron stared disbelievingly, her eyes filled with daring hope. But then her gaze came to rest on Ciro, and her heart felt like it had fallen to pieces. The blue dragon's green eyes were open wide, staring but not seeing. There was blood at the corner of his mouth and smeared across his face. Open, ghastly wounds covered his body.

"C-Ciro…"

Zannak swallowed, but his throat was dry and his chest felt painfully tight. He sat down next to the bleeding ice dragon and laid his head along his side. He knew it was already too late, but he had to try. There was no heartbeat, no breath, just cold silence. The warmth was draining from Ciro's scales. There was no life.

In a daze, Zannak sat up and shook his head. His eyes were glazed over with disbelieving pain. Saffron sat down heavily, her face incredulous. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

Roku and the others were standing around them. The black dragon was lifting Zephira onto his back with Flame's help. She was so drenched in blood he was forced to hold her in place with his wings. Spyro was just staring, that same hollow look in his eyes. Cynder could feel the aura around him changing, and knew it wasn't good. She shot a warning look at Sparx, who was uncharacteristically quiet for once.

"Take Spyro away from here," she murmured to the dragonfly, "I…don't know what he'll do."

"R-right, yeah…" Sparx agreed, and grabbed one of Spyro's horns in his tiny hands. He tugged half-heartedly, "Come on, Spy, let's…let's go."

Spyro didn't move and Sparx tried tugging harder. The purple dragon's eyes roamed over Zephira and came to rest on Ciro. His legs trembled, and darkness began to creep up from his paws. Cynder glanced at Sparx in alarm. Suddenly Flame stepped forwards.

"I'll take him," the red dragon murmured quietly to Cynder. He nudged Spyro away from the others, probably a little more forcefully than he should have.

"Come on, Spyro, let's go check on Ember."

For a brief moment Spyro resisted, but Flame pushed him along and he plodded away at the red dragon's side. Flame looked back and met Cynder's eyes. She nodded her thanks as the two male dragons disappeared into the rain, towards the infirmary. Roku stepped after them, the blood-stained form of Zephira draped across his back.

"I'll meet you at the infirmary," the black dragon said, "I need to get her there as soon as possible, while she's still breathing."

Cynder nodded mutely and Roku strode away at a brisk walk, trying not to jolt Zephira as much as possible. The black dragoness looked back at her remaining friends. Zannak and Kazan were standing mutely over Ciro, just looking at him. Saffron's disbelieving violet eyes met Cynder's sad emerald ones.

The electricity dragoness made to go after Roku and Zephira, but she stumbled and fell. Her eyes were dry, but she was shaking uncontrollably. Cynder hurried to her side.

"Wh-why?" Saffron stammered as Cynder helped her up, "Why them? Why did it have to be them?"

She leant heavily on the black dragoness, her breath coming in short gasps. She felt utterly exhausted and her eyes just wanted to close. But she had to get to Zephira, to make sure she was ok. A part of her still hadn't really understood that Ciro was gone. Cynder supported the yellow dragoness as best she could.

"I don't know," the black dragoness replied, attempting to keep her voice steady, "Sometimes…things happen that we can't control."

"Not them…" Saffron murmured, shaking her head feebly, "Anyone but them…"

Cynder wrapped a wing around the electric dragoness's back, "Come on, we need to get you to the infirmary before you collapse."

Saffron didn't try to argue. The two dragonesses limped off, the yellow leaning heavily on the black, hardly able to keep her feet. Cynder glanced back as they left, but Zannak and Kazan didn't look up. They just sat beside Ciro's fallen body and stared disbelievingly at their friend.

Even the skies were crying.

**A/N: So...are you depressed yet? Sorry for the miserably heartbreaking chapter. Please don't hate me. D:**

**Originally, the one who was going to die was Zannak, but GoldenGriffiness and I had an argument just before I posted last chapter and, upon her suggestion, I ended up changing it. It's probably going to change the whole story in some ways, so Goldy deserves credit for that.**

**Will Zephira live? What do you think?**

**Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews. They never cease to make my day. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: New chapter! And wow, the amount of feedback I got last chapter was amazing. You're all freaking awesome. Also, we've reached 20 000 hits, woo! Thanks everyone! Enjoy the chap. :)  
**

**15.**

Ember ran out of the infirmary to greet them when Saffron and Cynder staggered up to the building. The pink dragoness was very pale and she quickly moved to Saffron's other side to help. Together they assisted the exhausted yellow dragoness to the doors.

"What happened?" Ember asked, her voice shaking, "Spyro and Flame got here and told me Zephira and Ciro were attacked. Then Roku brought Zephira in – she looked terrible. I-I almost thought she was…"

The pink dragoness shook her head, "What happened to Ciro? Is he ok?"

Cynder didn't reply at first, but her gaze told Ember everything she needed to know. The pink dragoness froze and pain entered her azure eyes.

"No…he's not…" she trailed off, swaying.

"There was nothing we could do…" Cynder started to say, then broke off when she heard a small voice whimper.

"C-Ciro?"

The black dragoness looked up to find Nalu staring at her. The green dragoness's apricot eyes were full of horror, and she looked ready to faint.

"I-I saw his sister," she stammered, "Is he…?"

Cynder bowed her head, "I'm sorry…Kazan and Zannak are with him."

Nalu uttered a tiny scream of anguish and raced past the dragonesses. Cynder tried to call after her, but the green dragoness was already disappearing into the rain. She had gone to find Ciro.

"Nalu…" Ember murmured sadly.

"Come on," Cynder said, taking a deep breath, "Let's get Saffron inside."

"What happened to her?" Ember asked anxiously.

"She's in shock," Cynder said, glancing at the yellow dragoness held between them, "and she's used up all of her elemental energy."

Ember swallowed and blinked rapidly, "H-how could this happen? I thought we'd chased all the panthers out."

"I thought so too."

They brought Saffron to one of the rooms in the infirmary that wasn't full of injured dragons. Spyro and Flame were in there, as were Thasos and Cyril. They turned to look as the two dragonesses lowered Saffron onto a bed of cushions. The yellow dragoness lay quite limp, her sides rising and falling with slow, laboured breaths. Ember turned back to the door.

"I'll get the moles," she said, "Hang on."

Cynder looked back to find the two guardians were still looking at her. Spyro was staring at the floor, looking suitably abashed and very subdued. Sparx hovered by him soundlessly; his hand on Spyro's left horn. Flame was glaring at something on the left wall, his expression unreadable.

"Why did you return, young dragons?" Thasos asked tiredly, "Did we not send you to the Chronicler. Why have you returned so soon?"

Cynder bowed her head, "Forgive us, Thasos, but we heard the war horn. We were worried."

"So Spyro tells us," Cyril replied, a little coldly, "But by returning you have only put yourselves in danger. It was foolish to return young dragons."

Cynder blinked back tears, "W-we realise that now. D-did Spyro tell you what happened?"

Thasos exchanged an anxious glance with Cyril, "Young Flame told us two of your friends were injured by the panthers. Are they hurt badly?"

At that moment Ember returned with two moles at her back. She stood back as the moles moved to examine Saffron.

"Roku's with Zephira," she said solemnly, "So is Volteer. The moles are doing their best…"

She trailed off, and there was a silence broken only by the moles running out to fetch green gems, which they brought back moments later. Saffron lay still as she absorbed the gems, her energy painstakingly returning. She sat up almost instantly.

"I'm going to go see her," the yellow dragoness said, standing up, ignoring the moles as they fussed over her. She made for the door and looked back over her shoulder, her face still quite pale.

"Now isn't the time to be telling us off for coming back," she said to the guardians, "Not after what happened."

She left the room with a flick of her tail, the moles trailing after her with gems spilling out of their paws. The guardians stared after her and then exchanged glances.

"Perhaps we should see for ourselves," Cyril said, walking for the door, "Come along, young ones."

The four young dragons followed the two guardians through the crowded corridors of the infirmary until they spotted Saffron slipping into one of the rooms. They followed her in and found themselves in a room crowded by moles. Volteer stood off to the side, watching anxiously, Roku beside him. Domino was huddled against his brother's paws, looking subdued.

There were so many moles surrounded her, Zephira was blocked from view. But one of the moles moved and they finally got a good look at her. Her white scales were slick with blood and most of her left wing had been torn to shreds. Her eyelids were closed over her lavender eyes. Only by looking closely could they see the slow rise and fall of her ribs as she breathed.

"By the ancestors…" Cyril breathed, "It's a wonder she's alive."

"Oh, Zephira," Cynder sighed sadly, her wings drooping. She could tell Saffron wanted to get closer, but the moles wouldn't let her. Their paws were overflowing with red gems, but the white dragoness's wounds seem too great even for the healing crystals.

Spyro swayed and leaned against Cynder, and she placed a wing around him comfortingly. Thasos glanced down at Flame and Ember.

"What of her brother, Ciro? Has he been brought to the infirmary?"

Flame shook his head, staring at his paws. He didn't say anything, and Ember just looked away, blinking. Worried, Thasos looked to Cynder and Spyro. The purple dragon's eyes were closed, but Cynder looked back with sad eyes.

"There was nothing we could do for him," the black dragoness sighed, "Kazan and Zannak are with him."

Cyril's normally bright blue scales had paled. The ice guardian had liked the young ice dragon, even if he was always pulling pranks with his friends. He'd had hopes for Ciro, of training him into a fine ice dragon worthy of his ancestors. It didn't seem fair that his life should end so suddenly.

"That can't be…" Cyril mumbled, his usual frosty air melting away.

Nothing more was said. Perhaps there was nothing to say. A young dragon had died, well before his time. Nothing could be said to change that.

In was just unfair.

The panthers were covered in mud and blood, and utterly exhausted by the time they stopped. They were well away from Warfang, but the city could still be seen hovering distantly on the horizon like a warning. Skelos stared at it, uttering every curse he knew under his breath, wishing he hadn't been so foolhardy.

They'd lost over fifty panthers at the dragon city – over fifty fine warriors who had mates and cubs waiting for them back at the panther village. They would never again see the sun set. And Skelos knew it was his fault.

"Idiot," he muttered, "You've always been reckless."

'_You might even have lost your brother.'_

Skelos dismissed the thought angrily. Skulk would return, without a doubt. He had to.

They'd stopped on a grassy plain far to the north of Warfang. His warriors were lounging around, licking their wounds and lamenting their defeat. Skelos was staring angrily at the horizon when Orpheus approached him.

"Sir?" the olive-eyed panther asked, "What do we do now?"

Skelos glanced at the young assassin. All of the elite guard had escaped Warfang with them. That meant they no longer had any spies in the dragon city, except for Skulk and the ten panthers he took with him. Skelos scowled.

"We wait for Skulk," he replied coldly, "We'll figure out what to do from there. The dragons may have defeated us this time, but now we know what we're up against. Next time they won't be so lucky."

Orpheus wanted to ask what made him so sure, but had a feeling Skelos wouldn't like that. Instead he just nodded mutely and walked away. He sat alone with his back to a rock, staring at the rest of panthers scattered across the grassland. His brother Erebos wasn't far away, sitting with the rest of the assassins, but Orpheus knew he wasn't welcome there. They still despised him for giving them away at Warfang.

Sighing, the young panther leant back against the rock and stared up at the stormy sky. Light rain fell from the clouds and he blinked it from his eyes. At least the rain was easing now, as the day edged towards afternoon. Orpheus closed his eyes, resting his hands behind his head. He was so tired. His short tunic was splattered with mud and blood, and had several rips in it. Lucky for him, he hadn't suffered any serious wounds.

Orpheus found himself wishing he would never have to go back to Warfang, but he had a feeling he would soon enough. He knew Skelos and Skulk well enough to know they'd never give up, especially after a quelling defeat. They'd want revenge. Orpheus groaned and covered his face with his hands. He didn't want to have to fight. Sparring with other panthers and hunting was all fine, but fighting against a whole other race? Orpheus couldn't help but think it was both dangerous and pointless.

'_The dragons aren't weak like the cheetahs. They're strong and they've got numbers… We're no match for a species like that. Malefor drove us into hiding for a thousand years and he was only _one_ dragon.'_

The young panther scowled. They'd all learnt the history of the panthers. How, a thousand years ago, Feral had been unfairly banished from Avalar with the rest of the panthers. How they'd wandered the world for years, looking for a new place to call home. How they'd been driven into the badlands by the purple dragon Malefor and his army of apes. How they'd been forced to live and adapt to the harsh conditions there for a thousand years, unable to leave for fear of the rising Dark Master.

Malefor was gone now, Orpheus was sure of that. But there was that new purple dragon to consider. What would he be like when he was older? Would he rule the world with an iron claw as Malefor had aspired to do? And what did that mean for the panthers?

The more Orpheus thought about it, the more he thought it was a very bad idea to make enemies of the dragons now. If there came a time when another Dark Master rose to power, the dragons would make incredibly powerful allies. But they would be incredibly formidable enemies.

'_Feral and his panthers were driven into the badlands because they made enemies of the cheetahs in Avalar,'_ Orpheus thought bitterly, _'whether he was in the right or not, he made enemies of them. And I don't see how our fate should be any different if we make enemies of the dragons.'_

Skelos stared at the horizon for over an hour. He was just about to give up and turn away when something caught his eye. A lone figure was jogging towards him through the grass. He looked exhausted. Skelos broke into a run and reached the figure just as he stumbled and fell. The blue-eyed panther caught his twin just before he hit the ground.

"Skulk! What happened?" he asked, slinging his brother's arm around his shoulders.

Skulk grunted, holding his chest and panting heavily. His legs shook from exhaustion. Shaking his head, he allowed his twin to support him to where the rest of the panthers were scattered about. Many looked up when they saw their leaders approach.

"What happened?" Skelos repeated, setting Skulk down. His brother sat down heavily in the grass, rubbing a burn wound in his chest.

"Where are the others?" Skelos pressed impatiently.

"Dead," Skulk grunted, "All of them."

Skelos felt his hopes drop and he sat down beside his brother, "Dead? Was it the purple dragon?"

But Skulk laughed humourlessly and shook his head, "It was a dragoness. A yellow one, only half-grown. I thought she'd be easy to kill."

He stopped and Skelos stared, waiting for him to continue. Skulk shook his head and said, "She called the lightning from the clouds and struck all of my warriors down. I've never seen such power in a dragon so small. I was the only one who escaped."

Skelos's shoulders drooped in disappointed, "Your trap didn't work?"

Skulk snorted, "It almost did. I trapped two other dragons – the purple one's friends. I thought he'd eventually come to find them and I'd be able to deal with him then, but that dragoness came instead. I never even saw the purple dragon."

Skulk sighed and rubbed his forehead with a clenched hand, "At least I managed to slaughter those two dragons who stumbled into the trap. The purple dragon knows now the fate that awaits him when we get our hands on him."

"You killed two of his friends?"

"Cut them down with hardly a struggle," Skulk smirked. He looked around at the rest of the panthers, "How many did we lose?"

"Including the ten that went with you? About seventy," Skelos's tone was bitter.

Skulk scowled, "A waste of life. But at least we didn't leave empty handed."

"Right," Skelos was glad his twin shared his train of thought, "Now we've got all the information we need to figure out a plan to bring those dragons down."

"It'll be tricky," Skulk muttered, "They can fly and breathe magic – and we can't."

"It's unlike you to look at the negatives," Skelos pointed out, and his twin glared at him.

"I just saw ten of my warriors killed by a single dragoness," he snapped, "Forgive me if I'm not entirely confident!"

The twin panthers were silent for a time, the rain dampening their fur. At last Skelos spoke, "We know what we need. Wings, magic, and brute force."

"We just need to figure out where to get it," Skulk growled, "And that's not going to be easy."

Skelos plucked a piece of yellow grass from the ground, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, "We've got the whole afternoon and the night to think on it. We'll come up with something. We always do."

Skulk stared back towards Warfang, his expression unreadable. One day soon, he would have his revenge.

Ciro was buried at dusk.

Sometimes dragons were cremated, but that hadn't seemed right to his friends. Ciro had been in ice dragon, after all. To see his body dissolved in flame just didn't seem right. So they buried him in the small cemetery just outside the city, near the western wall.

The rain had stopped and the clouds were clearing. The setting sun spread bloody tendrils across the sky as the body of their friend was laid to rest within the earth. Ember and Saffron cried, and Nalu was inconsolable. But the rest looked on stoically, as though they didn't want to show their tears. Cyril stepped forwards and said a few words, but Ciro's friends hardly heard.

Others were buried that twilight. Of all the dragons that had fought that day, eleven had fallen. It was a small amount, compared to the many dead panthers that they had burned that afternoon. But it was no less painful.

When the last dragon had been laid to rest, Terrador had stepped forward. He was still sporting a limp, but most of his injuries had been treated with red spirit gems. He was one of the lucky ones. Selador remained by his side as he addressed the dragons of Warfang and the cheetahs of Avalar. His voice had been full of pain.

"The dragons who died today have not died in vain. Their efforts have protected Warfang and its citizens from our enemies. We will remember them with honour and dignity, as their spirits become one with nature. May the ancestors welcome them with open arms and may they watch us and protect us for all eternity."

After the ceremony, most of the dragons returned to the city. But Spyro and his friends remained standing over Ciro's grave, wondering how it all could have gone so wrong. Only that morning he had been the same bright, cheerful dragon he had always been. Now they'd never hear his laugh again.

"You should come inside, young dragons," said Terrador's gentle voice. He stood by the gate in the western wall, Selador and Seriphos on either side. Their reunion had been dampened by the circumstances, but they hadn't left each other's side ever since.

Spyro glanced at his friends. Only Saffron was missing. She'd already gone back to the infirmary to check on Zephira. No one said anything. Spyro sighed.

"Alright,' the purple dragon said, "It's getting cold out here, anyway."

As the young dragons all filed back into the city, Terrador spoke gently to Spyro.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, young dragon."

But Spyro didn't answer. He just strode away, Sparx hovering beside him and Cynder trailing behind. Terrador watched them all go their own ways, and his heart was heavy with sorrow.

"It doesn't seem right that young dragons like them should experience something so horrible," Selador spoke up, her eyes sad, "They don't deserve it."

"No one deserves to lose a friend," Terrador replied, his voice rumbling mournfully. "Come; let us shelter for the night. There should be room in the guardian quarters for you, Selador."

The navy dragoness nodded and fell into step beside the limping earth guardian. Seriphos bid them goodnight and went his own way, after telling his old mentor that it was good to have her back. They found Hunter and Prowlus waiting at the guardian quarters.

"We wanted to apologize," Hunter said, approaching the two earth dragons, "It's our fault the panthers attacked you. If we had never asked for your assistance…"

Terrador shook his head, "Why is it that young ones always seek to blame themselves? The fault is not yours Hunter, nor yours, Chief Prowlus. The fault is no one's but those who attacked."

The earth guardian strode past them with a few final words, "You should get some rest. It has been a long day."

The two cheetahs stood outside the guardian quarters for several minutes, even after Terrador and Selador had disappeared within. At last Prowlus laid a hand on his captain's shoulder.

"Come, Hunter. It's getting dark."

Silently, the two cheetahs strode away.

Saffron never left Zephira's side. She sat beside her hour by hour that night, watching her pale sides rise and fall with each breath. The room was otherwise empty, and the only other sound was Saffron's own breath. She had asked the moles whether Zephira would live, and they had replied that they didn't know.

Zannak's pawsteps could be heard outside the door. The golden-scaled dragon had been unable to sleep, and without Saffron their shared room felt cold and empty. So he had come here. But, not wanting to disturb the dragonesses, he remained outside, pacing backwards and forwards, trying to forget that his best friend was gone forever.

He thought he could hear Nalu's sobs from the room across from Zephira's. The green dragoness had gone into shock and it had been decided by the guardians that it would be best for her to stay in the infirmary that night. The moles checked on her every hour, as though they were afraid she would do something to hurt herself.

At some time past midnight, Zannak grew tired of pacing and of hearing Nalu's sobs behind the door. He quietly approached the room and pushed the door open, peeking in. The green dragoness was laying on a bed of orange cushions, her head on her paws, tears rolling down her cheeks. She glanced up when Zannak stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"Thought you could use some company," he said softly.

For the first time since she had seen Ciro's lifeless body, the slightest hint of a smile touched Nalu's lips.

Kazan sat on his balcony, staring at the celestial moons as they hung like mismatched eyes in the night sky. It was near midnight, but he hadn't been able to sleep a wink. Instead he took to sitting onside, letting the cold night air wash over his scales. A myriad of emotions cycled through his heart, but he wasn't sure which one to hold on to. A sigh escaped his lips.

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

Kazan glanced across and saw Roku sitting on the balcony next to his. The black dragon had been given the room beside the fire dragon's earlier than afternoon. Domino was sleeping soundly against his older brother's paws, but Roku was wide awake. The celestial moons were reflected in his emerald eyes.

"It's weird," Kazan admitted after a moment, "I…can't seem to cry. I mean, I feel sad…at least, I think I do. But I can't cry. Why is that? One of my best friends died today. I'm never going to get to see him again…speak to him…joke with him… I don't even remember what the last thing I said to him was. So why can't I cry?"

He stared anxiously at the moons for a long time. There weren't many stars tonight; they were hiding amongst the dark clouds. The city seemed somehow cold and hostile.

"Everyone has their own way of grieving," Roku replied after a while, "Maybe you will cry, after you've let it all sink in, or maybe you won't. It doesn't mean you cared about him any less than anyone else did. I…well; I never really got the chance to know him. Do I feel sad? I can't really say. I'm disappointed, I think, that I never got to know him; never got to be his friend like you were."

The black dragon looked down at his sleeping brother, "But, from what I did see of him before he died…he seemed like a good guy."

A smile tugged at Kazan's mouth.

"Yeah," he said, staring at the moons, "Yeah, he was."

In another part of the city, in another room, two dragons were comforting each other. Spyro was curled up against Cynder's chest, her wings draped around him, his eyes shut tight. He wasn't asleep; he couldn't sleep with the guilt that continuously ran through his mind.

"It was my fault," he kept repeating softly, "My fault, my fault."

"It wasn't, Spyro," Cynder kept trying to tell him. "It's not your fault."

But Spyro knew it was. He'd forced them to return to Warfang, and because of that Ciro was dead and Zephira was barely holding on to life. If he'd just gone to find that hatchling instead of them, like he'd planned to, they could have been spared. It was his fault.

His fault.

"It's not your fault, Spyro," Cynder murmured, her paws caressing his back, "It just…happened. There was nothing you could do to stop it. We can't control how fate works."

"But it's my fault," Spyro repeated sadly, "I led us back to Warfang, I let them go find that hatchling instead of me. They died because of my choices. It's my fault."

"No one blames you, Spyro, except yourself. Let it go. Ciro wouldn't blame you. And neither will Zephira."

Sparx's snores filled the quiet room. Spyro opened his eyes and relaxed in Cynder's hold, staring out at the night sky. He hoped she was right; he wanted to believe she was right.

'_You made a bad choice, Spyro. And you lost a friend because of it.'_

Spyro didn't want to listen to that little voice inside, but he knew it was true.

"It's not your fault, Spyro."

He wished he could believe her.

Outside, the storm clouds were clearing.

A void of white surrounded her body, encasing her in nothingness. Somehow her paws found firm ground where there was only emptiness. It wasn't bright; instead it felt cold, empty and dull, like there was nothing there at all, not even light. Her eyes searched fruitlessly through the void, seeking anything but finding nothing.

A shadow appeared before her, as white and empty as the void. She could see only the outline of its body – dragon-like, just like her. For a moment it stood still, like a statue, before it turned away. Like a ghost it began to fade back into the silent void.

Before she realised it, she was running.

"Wait! Please! Wait for me!"

But the ghostly silhouette only continued to walk away, fading ever so slowly into the white emptiness. She ran as fast as she could, desperate to catch it for a reason she wasn't sure of. But fog crept up from the sides of her vision and obscured the figure from view. The tip of its tail vanished into the whiteness without a trace.

"Wait!"

Cynder awoke with a start feeling oddly disorientated. The shadowy figure looming in the white void lingered in her mind, and it took her a moment to realise it had all been a dream. Shivering, the black dragoness took a moment to look around the room and let her startled nerves settle.

Spyro was lying on his side, pressed up against her, under the cover of one of her wings. Every now and then he would twitch and snarl in his sleep, and Cynder eyed him anxiously. After a moment, her eyes drifted towards the archway that led to the balcony. It was still dark outside – dawn had yet to break. Sparx's soft snoring still filled the room with an oddly calming ambience.

Sighing, the black dragoness was about to lay back down and sleep again, when she sensed something move out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head sharply and her gaze fell on the pouch of deerskin she'd taken off before sleeping that night. As her emerald eyes stared at it, the pouch continued to twitch and shudder every few seconds. Cynder frowned and, careful not to disturb Spyro, eased to her feet.

Apprehensively, for she remembered what the pouch contained, she flipped it open and stared. The Poison Claws spilled out of the pouch and onto the floor, the moonlight leaking through the archway shining on their metallic surface. They jerked and shuddered like dying rodents under Cynder's confused stare until, after a moment, they lay still.

She stared at them for several minutes until she was sure they had stopped moving. Then, hesitantly, she nudged them with a claw. There was no movement. The cold metal claws were as still and silent as death. Cynder sighed and rolled her eyes, muttering to herself.

"You're just jumpy from that dream, Cynder. Your mind is playing tricks on you. Go back to sleep."

Silently, she pushed the metal claws back into the deerskin pouch and flipped it closed. Shaking her head, the black dragoness returned to Spyro's side and lay down, again covering him with her wing. But, despite reassuring herself that what she had seen was a trick of her tired mind, she couldn't help casting the claws another apprehensive glance before she lay her head down. The pouch didn't move.

"Mind tricks," Cynder mumbled, resting her head on her paws and closed her eyes. Sleep washed over her tired mind, and she was lost in the realm of dreams within moments. By the time she awoke, she would have forgotten all about her dream and the mysterious, shuddering claws.

"Saff…Saffron…Miss Saffron…"

The yellow dragoness groaned as she was pulled from her slumber by the sound of someone calling her name. She blinked a few times, her eyelids feeling heavy, and realised she was sitting upright against the wall. Her head was resting against the wall, and her neck ached from the awkward position. Saffron licked her lips and looked around for whoever it was that had awoken her.

A mole stood in front of her, his beetle-black eyes gazing up at her face in concern. "Forgive me, Miss Saffron, but you were crying in your sleep."

"Oh," Saffron raised a paw to her face, wiping away the moisture that had gathered on her cheeks, "Thank you."

The electric dragoness stretched with a groan, loosening the tight muscles in her neck and wings. Her violet eyes searched the room she was in, which was now full of morning light. Two moles were leaning over Zephira, setting red gems to her many wounds. Saffron watched sadly as the events of the previous day repeated themselves in her mind.

"How is she?" she asked the mole that had woken her. The furry creature glanced up at her again.

"She had survived the night, which is a good sign," the mole said gently, "She has a greater chance of surviving now than she did yesterday. But she's not out of the danger zone yet. A weak dragoness may yet succumb to such injuries."

"Zephira's not weak," Saffron scowled, her eyes on the limp white dragoness, "She's strong…stronger than anyone realises. She'll pull through, I know it."

The mole was silent for a long time. The light of the early morning sun crept across the floor and touched Zephira's colourless scales, illuminating the scars that ran the length of her body. Her savaged wing was stretched out across a separate cushion, little more than a limp rag. Saffron was about to speak again, when the door suddenly opened and Zannak poked his head in.

"Hey," said the gold dragon, stepping into the room, "We came to see how Zephira's going."

Saffron glanced at him and saw Kazan and Roku step into the room after her brother. The two dragons looked more subdued that she'd ever seen. Little Domino was nowhere to be seen.

"She survived the night," Saffron said quietly, looking at her paws. Roku moved to her side, his green eyes fixed on the limp white dragoness.

"That's something, at least," the black earth dragon murmured. He looked the electric dragoness over and added, "She's lucky to have a friend like you, who'll stay by her side the entire night."

Saffron responded with a weak smile and asked, "Where's Domino?"

"Sleeping," Roku replied, "The battle yesterday tired him out."

"Funny, I didn't think anything could tire out that little guy," Zannak cut in jokingly, grinning. But his smile seemed stale somehow, and forced. A cold silence filled the room for several minutes.

"She'll live…won't she?" Kazan asked awkwardly, moments later. The mole who had woken Saffron was the one who answered.

"If she's strong," he said, "But you must understand, all of you…even if she lives, she won't ever be the same. Those scars will stay with her for the rest of her life – both physical and emotional. And, there's something else…"

The mole took a deep breath and faced the four dragons, "I'm afraid she'll never fly again."

"_What_?" Saffron's shriek made everyone jump, and the moles tending to Zephira looked up in alarm. Saffron's eyes flashes with anger. "What do you mean she'll never fly again? You're healing her, aren't you?"

"Steady on, Saff," Zannak said nervously, but his sister ignored him.

"We are doing our best!" the mole insisted, looking anguished, "But that wing of hers is ruined…"

"You've got red gems, haven't you?" Saffron snapped, looking furious, "You can heal it! Red gems can heal anything!"

"We cannot heal what is no longer there, Miss Saffron!" the mole argued, gesturing to Zephira's ruined left wing. He spoke the truth – most of the wing had been torn away, and it was hardly even half a wing anymore. But Saffron didn't seem to understand; or she didn't want to.

"That's not right! You can't take away her ability to fly!" the yellow dragoness yelled, her eyes blazing, "You take that away and she'd have nothing left! You've got to heal her!"

"We are doing all that we can, but we cannot do the impossible!" the mole replied, looking very upset, "And please don't raise your voice, you'll disturb the patients."

Saffron ignored him and yelled, "But she's a _wind_ dragoness! She belongs in the sky! It's her home, her domain… She's already lost her brother, she can't lose anything else!"

"Saffron, stop," Kazan cut in suddenly, stepping forwards between her and the upset mole.

"There's nothing I can do," the mole said miserably at the same time, and Saffron snapped.

With a screech of rage, she lashed out at Kazan, her paw connecting hard with the side of his face. He staggered as his head was jerked to the side, three shallowed scratches torn into the scales just below his eye. Saffron uttered an anguished sob and spun away, fleeing out of the room. They heard her footsteps as she fled down the corridor and out of the infirmary.

Roku and Zannak exchanged glances, and the gold dragon made for the door, saying, "I'll go after her."

As Zannak left, Kazan raised his head and stared at the door, blood glistening on his cheek. The mole approached him anxiously, wringing his tiny hands.

"Uh, um, perhaps we should get that looked at…" he stammered.

Kazan wiped the injury with the back of his paw, smearing blood across his crimson scales, "Don't worry about it. It's fine."

"I didn't think she'd take it that badly," the mole sighed dejectedly. Neither dragon said anything and Kazan's sad eyes stayed fixed on the door, like he expected the yellow dragoness to come back through it. But she didn't, and his cheek remained stinging with the memory of her anger.

Zannak found his sister just outside the infirmary, her back turned to the doors and her head angled towards the sky. She was sitting down and her tail was curled around her legs. From where he stood, Zannak could see her shoulders shaking. Suppressing a sigh, the gold-scaled dragon strode over to her. She didn't look at him when he sat down beside her.

"You sure lose your temper easily, little sis."

For a moment she was silent, but Zannak could see tears rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes were closed. At last she spoke, and her voice was tight with emotion.

"I'm despicable," she mumbled, one of her tears falling to splash on the cobblestones.

Zannak glanced sharply at her, "Don't be dumb. You just got a little angry, that's all. Kazan'll live. You didn't hit him too hard."

"That's not what I meant!" Saffron snapped, her eyes flying open as she whirled on her brother. Her voice caught and she turned her face away again, trying to suppress her sobs. Zannak stared sadly at her.

"You can't seriously blame yourself for what happened," he said, but Saffron shook her head.

"It's not fair," she choked, opening her tear-filled eyes, "Zephira's lost everything – her brother, her wing… Imagine how she'll feel when she wakes up and finds out that, not only is Ciro gone forever, but she'll never fly again. It isn't fair."

Saffron took a deep, shuddering breath and looked her brother in the eyes, "She's lost everything, and all I can think about is how…I'm _glad_ that it wasn't me. How I'm glad it wasn't you who died. How I'm glad it's not me lying there, covered in scars, unable to ever fly again…"

"She's lost everything and all I can think about is myself!" Saffron yelled, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. She choked back a sob and turned away from her brother, as though she was ashamed to look at him. "I'm…I'm despicable."

Zannak stared at his sister back for a moment, thinking about what he could say to her. Then, without a word, he moved to her side and wrapped her in his wings. She stiffened at first, surprised by the gesture, or perhaps ashamed that she needed her older brother to comfort her. Then, with a broken sob, she buried her face in his chest and cried.

"I don't want to think like this," She sobbed, her shoulders trembling, "I want to care for Zephira, to understand her pain, to be there for her… I don't want to look at her and think 'I'm glad that I'm not in her place'. I don't want to be like that."

"You're not a bad dragon, sis," Zannak mumbled, resting his head on top of hers, "You do care about Zeph…if you didn't, you wouldn't be crying like this. You're just a bit upset at the moment – heck, we all are. There's no need to be so hard on yourself."

Saffron sighed into his chest, "Why did this have to happen? If only we could have stopped it somehow…if I had gotten there sooner…if I had just gone with them. Maybe I could have stopped it somehow…"

"You can't change what happened, sis," Zannak sighed, "And besides, if you had gone with them…well, you might all be dead. They woulda killed Zephira if not for you. Though I don't know how you did it…"

Saffron shook her head, "I don't know either. I hardly remember what happened, only that I was angry…so angry. For a while I thought I _was_ the storm."

Zannak smirked weakly, "Yeah, you sure looked it, too. I heard Volteer speaking last night – he said you were 'utilising the advanced element of lightning', which was what he's been trying to teach Spyro. Weird, huh?"

Saffron stepped out of her brother's embrace, wiping dried tears from her cheeks and smiling softly, "I don't even know how I managed it. Guess it was just inside me all along. But I don't know if I want to ever use it again – it was terrifying, being so full of rage. I could hardly control myself."

Zannak extended a wing around her shoulders, "Yeah, well, I reckon if you weren't a girl, Volteer would choose you as his successor in a heartbeat. Shame about that old tradition."

Saffron pushed her brother away with a half-hearted smirk, "Whatever. I wouldn't make a good guardian anyway."

"Sure you would," Zannak grinned, "Can't you just imagine it? Saffron, guardian of electricity, purge of the wicked, terror of Warfang! And of course, her loyal advisor." He tapped himself on the chest with a claw, winking.

Saffron nudged him roughly, grinning, "You're such an idiot, Zan."

Zannak stumbled and regained his balance, the grin never leaving his face, "At least I made you smile, sis. Come on. Let's go see how badly you scarred Kazan."

"Oh, shut up."

Cynder rose with the sun; the instant light touched her eyelids she was dragged away from her dreams. Yawning widely, the black dragoness looked around the room, taking note that Sparx was still snoring in his hanging nest. Spyro lay draped across the cushions, breathing evenly, his face peaceful for once. Cynder watched him fondly for awhile, wishing she saw that serene expression on his face more often.

Thoughts and worries bloomed in her mind as she watched the sleeping purple dragon – anxieties that had been haunting her for weeks. The emergences of Dark Spyro were becoming more frequent as the days went on, and each time he became even more violent, unpredictable and unstable. She could see the fear written in his eyes every waking moment, fear of the beast that lurked within. Cynder refused to believe that the darkness was a part of the purple dragon; day after day she told herself that it was just a monster that lurked inside him, fighting to be let out. And day after day, that little voice in her head said otherwise.

'_Spyro is a good dragon. A good dragon. He would never hurt anyone on purpose.'_

Then why, that nasty little voice asked, can you see the Spyro you know in that monster's eyes?

A knock on the door startled Cynder out of her revere and she gave a start, glancing sharply towards the door. Taking a deep breath, she shook the thoughts from her head and stood up. Her wing brushed softly across Spyro's back, but he didn't stir. The black dragoness padded silently to the door and opened it.

Hunter blinked when he saw her and a brief moment of surprise crossed his face, "Cynder? Did I interrupt anything?"

"No, no, it's fine," Cynder said quickly, blushing, "I just spent the night here to comfort Spyro. He's still sleeping."

The cheetah seemed to wilt slightly, "I see. I just came to see how he was. After yesterday…I'm sorry about what happened. It must be hard for you."

The black dragoness sighed and stepped aside, allowing Hunter into the room, "It hasn't been a pleasant night. Spyro hasn't taken it well…"

The cheetah closed the door soundlessly behind him, "I feared as much. It isn't easy, losing a friend."

Cynder eyed the sleeping dragon sadly, "He blames himself, you know. I tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, but I don't think he believes me. I wish…I wish I could do something for him. I feel hopeless. He was stressed enough as it is without this. It's too cruel."

Hunter bent down on one knee to look the dragoness in the eyes, "And what about you? How are you holding up? Ciro was your friend, too."

Cynder hesitated and looked away, "I…I've suffered a lot in my short life. In a way, it's made me stronger. It saddens me to know that one of my friends died yesterday, when I could have been there to help him. And Zephira – she's such a frail dragoness – I worry about her. If I could have been there for her…"

"But I know," the black dragoness continued in a stronger voice, "that we cannot change the past. Fate has its own way of working – sometimes it is cruel, vicious, and unfair. But we must learn to overcome our sorrows and move on if we are to become stronger. I don't want to lose myself to sadness. I have my own life to live, both for myself and for those who depend on me."

Her emerald eyes turned sad, "I just wish I could do more for Spyro. I worry about him, Hunter. Every day he's growing more unstable, more disturbed. He's becoming something that he's not, and I can see how much it scares him. But the more he worries, the weaker he becomes, and the more I can see his whole being dissolving before my eyes. I'm worried, Hunter. I don't know what else I can do for him. I…I don't want to lose him."

Her voice caught on those last words and she looked back at Hunter, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay. The cheetah eyed her anxiously, and she could see in his aqua eyes that he wanted to help her somehow, if only he could. But he was at a loss, she could tell that.

"You just need to keep doing what you've been doing all along," Hunter spoke at last, his voice tight, "Stay by his side; love him; support him. He needs friends by his side to keep him on the right path, and he needs you more than anyone. Your love is what ties him to this world. Without you, he would have been lost long ago. By staying beside him, you are doing more than you know. He needs you, Cynder."

"But I'm not enough," Cynder choked out, trying desperately to hold back her tears, "I'm not enough. H-he needs friends who will stay by him, friends who will believe in him, laugh with him, even argue with him. And we lost one of those friends yesterday; he's never coming back."

"Which is why he needs you and the rest of his friends more than ever," Hunter replied gently, wiping away a tear that had escaped from Cynder's eye, "Only you can save him from what he is becoming. Believe in yourself."

Cynder took a deep breath and blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. It took her a moment to compose herself, but when she did her once tear-filled eyes now blazed with a kind of determined fire.

"I'll stay beside him forever," she declared, "I'll never leave him; never. No matter what happens I will continue to love him to the best of my ability."

"If that wasn't totally gross and corny, I might say it was sweet," chimed a snide voice. Cynder turned to glare at Sparx, who had awoken and was hovering down from his nest to join her and Hunter. "If anyone's going to stay with Spyro forever, it'll be me."

Cynder opened her mouth to make an angry retort, but the dragonfly held up his hands and interrupted. "Hey, don't get me wrong. He's lucky to have someone like you in his life to care about him…but could you be a little less, you know, lovey-dovey about it?"

The black dragoness gave a wry smile, "I shouldn't expect any less from you, Sparx. But I think Spyro quite likes the, ah, 'lovey-dovey'."

Sparx made a face, "Yeah, well, it's gross. So don't do it around me."

Hunter smiled and stood up, straightening his cloak, "Spyro is fortunate to have the both of you. Do him a favour; never desert him."

"Yeah right, Spyro and I are always together! That'll never change!" Sparx insisted indignantly, folding his arms.

"He'd be lucky to get away from you," Cynder smirked, glancing slyly at the dragonfly.

"Yeah…wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

"I must get back to Chief Prowlus," Hunter said, his hand on the door, "We're heading back to Avalar, in case the panthers strike there next. Good luck, both of you, and may the ancestors be with you. Tell Spyro I dropped by. Perhaps we will meet again soon."

"I hope so," Cynder replied as Hunter pushed the door open and stepped out into the corridor.

"See ya," Sparx said, raising a hand, "Try not to die and all that."

"May the ancestors watch over you!" Cynder called after the cheetah as he strode away. Then he turned a corner and was gone. The black dragoness sat down with a sigh.

"Now what?" Sparx asked, after a moment of silence.

Cynder glanced back at the sleeping Spyro, "We should go check on Zephira. I hope she's alright."

"And Spyro?"

The black dragoness hesitated, her eyes shifting from Spyro to the door and back again. She shook her head, "He might worry if he wakes up to find us gone. But I don't want to wake him…"

Sparx shrugged, "No worries. You go and I'll stay here with…"

But at that moment there came a snuffling sound from the other side of the room, and Spyro's eyes blinked open. He yawned widely, showing off rows of impressive white teeth and the crimson inside of his mouth. Then, blinking the sleep from his eyes, he raised his head and looked around the room.

"Cynder? Sparx? What's going on?" the purple dragon asked, still a little disorientated from sleep.

"We were just about to go see Zephira at the infirmary," Cynder explained gently, "We weren't sure whether to wake you or not."

"Oh…" Spyro's wings drooped, as though he'd just remembered the events of the previous day. He stood up, stretching his limbs and unfurling his cramped wings. "I'll come."

As he walked over to join the dragoness and the dragonfly, Cynder watched him closely. There was no hint of darkness on his scales now; he just looked lost and sad. She cringed when his paw almost knocked the deerskin pouch she'd left on the floor. The Poison Claws were still in there, and he still didn't know about them. But Spyro didn't notice a thing, and strode past the pouch without a glance. Cynder made a mental note to return them to her room as soon as possible.

"Come on," the black dragoness said, turning to the door, "The others are probably waiting for us."

They met Flame and Ember on the way to the infirmary. The two dragons had also spent the night together, which an embarrassed Flame didn't try to deny.

"Ember needed someone to comfort her," the red dragon stammered when Cynder asked. Sparx made a disgusted face and muttered something about 'lovey-dovey dragons'.

But the atmosphere sobered when they stepped into the infirmary, which was still full of injured dragons and moles. They strode through the corridors, avoiding the moles running to and fro with spirit gems in their tiny paws. Upon reaching Zephira's room, Cynder peered curiously around the door and then beckoned the others in.

It was dark in the room. Curtains had been drawn over the windows, and the only light was that from the corridor outside the room and the little metal lantern hanging from the roof. Saffron, Kazan and Roku were standing around, talking in quiet voices. Cynder couldn't help noticing the guilty look on the yellow dragoness's face.

"Hey," Kazan said, looking up when the four dragons and Sparx entered the cramped room, "I was wondering when you guys would show up. Slept in, huh? Lucky for some."

"Where's Zannak?" Flame asked, noticing the gold dragon's absence.

"He went to see Nalu," Saffron spoke up, "He'll be back soon."

Cynder glanced towards the bed of cushions on the other side of the room. There was still a mole there, binding up Zephira's mutilated left wing. The white dragoness lay on her side, her breathing slow and laboured. Scars marred her white scales from snout to tailblade, some healed, others not. Her eyes were closed.

"How is she?" the black dragoness asked softly, her sad green eyes roaming over the scarred white scales of the wind dragoness.

"She'll live," Roku said, sounding grave, "But those scars will stay with her for life, and her tattered wing will prevent her from ever flying again. We should be grateful she's alive; she could well have ended up like her brother."

"Poor Zephira," Ember sighed, "It's so unfair."

"Those panthers are despicable," Flame spat, looking disgusted and angry, "How could they do this to them? They were just trying to help that hatchling…why did they deserve to be attacked? They didn't deserve it at all!"

"When I get my claws on those beasts…" Kazan snarled, flexing his talons. Saffron shot him a warning look, but her eyes lingered on the scratch in his cheek and she looked away guiltily.

"What exactly happened?" Cynder cut in, glancing at everyone, "Does anyone know?"

Ember pawed anxiously at the floor, "The hatchling they saved told me as much as he could. He said that the panthers cornered him and attacked him. One of them apparently told the hatchling that he was going to help him to…to…"

She hesitated and, for a split second, Cynder though she saw Ember's eyes flick towards Spyro.

"…to set a trap," the pink dragoness continued quickly, and Cynder had an odd feeling she was trying deliberately to not look at Spyro, "They took him to the courtyard nearest to the battlefield and told him to make as much noise as he could. Naturally he was frightened and hurting, so he did. And of course, Ciro and Zephira went looking for him and…"

Ember broke off shuddering and stared at her paws, her eyes misted over.

"The…the panthers attacked and Zephira managed to get the hatchling away, telling him to run for help," she continued after a moment, swallowing nervously, "and…well, you know the rest."

"When…" all eyes turned on Saffron at the sound of her voice. She was staring at the floor, "When I got there, I saw a panther standing over Zeph. She…she was crying…covered in blood. And Ciro was just lying there…not moving…not moving at all. I just…lost control."

The electric dragoness said no more, closing her eyes and bowing her head. Kazan extended a wing over her back, trying awkwardly to comfort her. Cynder found herself wondering how their relationship had improved so quickly in the last few days. Then her eyes sought out the scratches just beneath his eye, and a weird memory surfaced of a similar injury she'd given Spyro about a year ago.

At that moment, the door opened and two more dragons peered into the room. Zannak had his wing around Nalu, who was pressed nervously to his side, her eyes nervous and downcast. The green dragoness glanced anxiously at the group of dragons and quickly looked at her paws again, edging closer to Zannak.

"Hey, look who decided to come see us!" Zannak exclaimed when he caught sight of Spyro, Cynder, Flame and Ember. He ushered Nalu into the room and closed the door behind them with a flick of his tail. "Thought I'd bring Nalu in to see how Zephira's doing."

"Keep her mind off things, you know," the gold dragon whispered to Sparx, who was nearest to him. Then he nudged the green dragoness and said, "Don't by shy. We're all friends here."

"Um…" Nalu mumbled, looking up shyly, "Hello."

Cynder smiled gently, "Hello, Nalu. How are you holding up?"

"I'm…I'm ok," her voice was soft and unsure, and she stuck so close to Zannak their scales were touching. Her apricot eyes shifted nervously to the unconscious Zephira, but she quickly looked away again, as though she was afraid to look at the sister of her late crush.

"I'm sorry," a hoarse voice said suddenly, and everyone turned in surprise. Spyro was looking at Nalu, his face stricken and full of guilt. "It's my fault Ciro is gone. I should have done something to help him, but I didn't. It's my fault. I'm sorry."

Nalu was staring at him, stunned, her eyes glassy. No one else spoke, except Cynder.

"Spyro!" she snapped, trying to keep her voice as gentle as possible, "That isn't true. It was no one's fault, except those wretched panthers."

"Yeah man, stop trying to blame yourself," Sparx added, "No one else believes it."

"But…"

"No," Nalu spoke up suddenly, her voice soft, "Don't say it was your fault. Please. Ciro…Ciro wouldn't want anyone to blame themselves for his death. Especially not his friends. Please…please don't blame yourself."

Spyro stared at her, a mixture of emotions on his face. There was a long silence in the room, broken only by the chink of red gems as the mole tending to Zephira collected the remaining ones.

"I think we've been here long enough," Cynder spoke up, "Come now. Let's give Zephira some space to rest and heal."

As the dragons all filed out of the room, the black dragoness pulled Ember aside. The pink dragoness eyed her curiously, but Cynder shook her head. She waited until the last dragon, Roku, had left the room before she spoke.

"Before, when you were telling us what the hatchling had told you," Cynder said in a hushed voice, "I saw you glance at Spyro. There was something else you didn't want to say in front of him, wasn't there? What was it?"

Ember hesitated, chewing her lip anxiously. Then, in a hushed whisper, she replied, "The hatchling told me that the panthers were setting a trap for the purple dragon. He said that's what they told him. I…I didn't want Spyro to hear that. If he knew that the trap Ciro and Zephira walked into was actually meant for him…well, I'm sure you understand."

Cynder's face darkened grimly, "Yes, I understand. He already blames himself enough as it is. That knowledge would only make things worse. It's best that we keep this between you and me."

The black dragoness made for the door, but Ember called her back.

"Cynder. There's something I wanted to ask you, too," the pink dragoness's eyes were almost accusing, "The other day, when we left Warfang, I saw you had a pouch with you. What was in that pouch?"

Cynder froze, her eyes wide. Ember was the only one out of all her friends who knew about the Poison Claws, and she had found out by accident. The black dragoness didn't turn to face her when she replied hoarsely, "That…that doesn't matter."

"I thought so," the pink dragoness replied darkly, "You took the claws, didn't you?"

Cynder's silence was all the answer she needed.

"Why, Cynder?" Ember asked desperately, "I thought you said you were never going to use them."

"And I don't plan to!" Cynder replied snappishly, turning back to face the pink fire dragoness.

"Then why take them?" Ember snapped back, her azure eyes flashing, "What use could they possibly be to you?"

"I don't know," Cynder sighed truthfully, "But there has to be reason why I took them from the cavern that day. I just need to find out what that reason is. I just feel like I need them close to me while I figure it out. There's a reason…I know there is."

"Spyro still doesn't know, does he?"

Cynder looked away, unspeaking. Ember sighed.

"Cynder, sooner or later he's going to find out. Wouldn't you rather tell him yourself than have him find out the hard way? How do you think he'll react when he realises you kept them from him and never told him about it?"

"Spyro has enough on his mind at the moment," Cynder replied softly, "He doesn't need to know. Don't worry, I won't use them."

"Cynder!"

But the black dragoness ignored her friend and stepped out of the room, walking quickly away. If she had her way, Spyro would never have to know about the Poison Claws. But Ember's words continued to repeat themselves in her head, no matter how she tried to dismiss them.

In the dark hours before dawn, Skelos found himself staring aimlessly at the skies, his eyes filled with the reflection of stars. Sleep eluded him and his brother; their thoughts were filled with problems to which there seemed no solution. The rest of the panthers lay about the grasslands, sleeping in groups, clutching their weapons as though they believed they would be attacked in their dreams.

'_Wings…'_ Skelos kept thinking, glaring at the star-flecked sky, _'If only we had wings…'_

But hard as he thought, he could not come up with a way of obtaining wings for his panthers. They were destined, in seemed, to be stuck on the ground forevermore. And without wings, they were at a huge disadvantage.

Skelos scowled at the moons, hanging mockingly in the sky. A dark shape passed overhead suddenly, and the panther sat up quickly. But he saw the shape silhouetted against the moons and realised it was only a bat. Irritably, Skelos watched the small winged creature as it continued on its course through the night sky. Others followed after it in groups, and their chattering filled the air.

Vaguely, Skelos wondered what it would be like to fly like a bat on great webbed wings. Perhaps they could attack the dragons while riding on the back of a cloud of bats – but Skelos snorted in amusement at such impossibility. Then, just like that, the idea came to him. It struck him so hard he almost fell over in shock and cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Skulk!" the panther yelled, breaking through the silence as he scrambled over to his twin, "Skulk, I've got it!"

Skulk, who had been laying on his back a few metres away, sat up when his brother yelled his name. He too had been lost in troubled thought for the many dark hours of night.

"I had an idea, Skelos," he said, before his excited brother could speak, "We need to bulk up our numbers to stand a fair chance against those dragons. Perhaps we could tame the Desert Jackals to fight for us. There's plenty running around the badlands, stealing our prey…"

Skelos blinked, "The jackals? Don't be ridiculous, you know how frail they are. They're built for speed, not strength. They'd be easy prey for the dragons. We need something more…sturdy. Something that packs more of a punch."

Skulk snapped his fingers, "You just gave me another idea. Death Hounds."

"What?"

"Come on, you know. Those wolf-like beasts with the reptilian tales?" Skulk waved a paw impatiently, "The apes tamed them for Malefor's army, if I recall the tales correctly. Nasty beasts they were. If we were to follow their example…"

"You don't even know what sort of place the Death Hounds occupy," Skelos interrupted, still feeling irritable, "But enough of that! I know how we can get wings!"

Skulk eyed his brother sceptically, "Either you're a genius or you've completely lost your mind. How do you plan on making panthers fly?"

Skelos glanced up again as the last straggling bats hovered by overhead, "Dreadwings."

Skulk's eyes widened, "Not those creatures! Hideous things…I still remember years ago when we were forced to hide whenever one of them passed by overhead, always with one of those filthy apes on its back. It was a good thing Malefor was never interested in the badlands, or those Dreadwings might have meant trouble for us. But what do you want with them?"

"Don't you see?" Skelos replied eagerly, "Like you just said – we follow their example! The apes tamed the Dreadwings as mounts, which gave the advantage of flight – which must have come in handy in a war against dragons. Now that Malefor and his apes are gone, _we_ could tame the Dreadwings! Not only would they grant us flight, but Dreadwings have magic of their own to combat the elements that the dragons control. We'd be killing two birds with one stone!"

Skulk seemed to consider it for a moment, his blue eyes glinting intelligently in the dark. Then he sat back and replied, "That's all well and good, brother, but what if the Dreadwings all perished with the rest of Malefor's army? We haven't seen one in years. And besides, even if there were still some survivors, where do you expect to find them? They could be anywhere, if they even exist anymore."

Skelos faltered and for a moment it seemed like he had no answer. But then, absently picking the heads off the grasses around him, he spoke. "Do you remember the tales of Sablefur the traveller? Our father used to tell them to us when we were cubs."

"How could I not?" Skulk drawled and took a deep breath, "There was once a panther, centuries ago, who went by the name Sablefur. He was intelligent and brave, but very much a fool. Everyone knew that the world outside the Badlands was dark and dangerous, infested with the cruel might of the Dark Master's army. But Sablefur's curiosity was far too great – he wanted to explore the outside world, to visit places no panther had ever gone to before. So, despite the warnings of his friends and family, Sablefur left the safety of the Badlands and journeyed into the dark unknown."

"He was fast and quick of wit, which got him out of trouble many times during his journey. With him was his loyal friend, a small, timid panther whose name was Thistle." Skelos continued, "And as Sablefur discovered each new part of the world, he would draw in on parchment so as to never lose track of where he was. Bit by bit he completed his maps, always dodging danger at every turn. In his curiosity, he even strode into the Dark Army's territory, and it was only his quick wit and Thistle's caution that saved then both from many a grisly fate. But the more Sablefur dodged danger, the cockier he became."

"Eventually there came a time when he strode too deep into enemy territory," Skulk picked up again, "where even his quick wit could not save him. And so the Dark Armies slaughtered him mercilessly, leaving poor timid Thistle alone with the maps Sablefur had so diligently crafted. Eventually, Thistle returned to the Badlands with so many tales to tell, and all of Sablefur's notes and maps to show for it. Thus were the name Sablefur, and the foolish panther who bore it, immortalised for all eternity."

Skulk yawned and rested his chin in his hand, "So, what's the point?"

Skelos rolled his eyes, "One of Sablefur's tales tells of the Dreadwings of Concurrent Skies – a dark place where storms rage day and night, and the earth is littered with crystals pulsing with electricity. It was this merciless landscape that the Dreadwings called home, until the Dark Armies captured and tamed them to serve as mounts. That's all that Sablefur can tell us, but more recent rumours say more. Concurrent Skies became home to Cynder, the Terror of the Skies, somewhere between ten to fifteen years ago. Tales tell of a dark fortress built there where the dark dragoness would sulk and brood, and wait for her Master's next order."

"Now that Malefor and his armies have been eradicated, the fortress at Concurrent Skies must be abandoned. Unless, that is, the Dreadwings have taken up residence in it. If any of them survived the destruction of the Dark Army, it would make sense that they would return to what was once their home."

Skelos fell silent and Skulk stared at him for awhile, thinking over everything that had just been said. The silence in the dark grasslands was broken only by the occasional snore of a sleeping panther. At last Skulk sighed and spoke.

"You're making a huge gamble here," he told his brother, "If the Dreadwings do still exist, there is no guarantee they returned to Concurrent Skies. And even if they did, there is no telling whether or not you will be able to capture and tame them like the apes once did. The only way to find out will be to go to Concurrent Skies ourselves, and that could waste several days of travel."

"_But_," Skelos interrupted, "if that gamble does pay off, we'll not only have wings, but magic too. It's worth a shot."

Skulk stroked his chin thoughtfully, "I won't disagree with you there. But how do you plan on navigating your way to Concurrent Skies?"

"Using Sablefur's maps, of course."

Skulk stood up abruptly and turned around, striding over to the nearest panther, who was sleeping soundly amongst the grass. He kicked the black feline roughly, and the startled cat jumped upright almost instantly. His startled eyes met Skulk's and he quickly snapped to attention.

"Bring Burdock to me immediately," Skulk ordered snappishly, "Tell him to bring the maps."

The startled panther saluted smartly and scampered away. Skulk turned around and returned to his brother's side, sitting cross-legged in the grass. Skelos eyed his twin curiously, another thought entering his head.

"Remember what you said about the Death Hounds? Perhaps Sablefur's notes will have some information on them."

"You might be right," Skulk replied, plucking a piece of grass and crushing it in his paw, "You might be right."

The day passed slowly, and it was nearing midnight by the time Zephira awoke. Saffron was dozing in the infirmary room, curled up beside her sleeping brother. The electric dragoness was only half-asleep, and her thoughts and nightmares seemed to merge together in her state of unrest. Zephira's scream echoed in her head, over and over again, and Ciro's lifeless eyes seemed to haunt her every thought. Saffron groaned and shifted, covering her face with a wing.

A feeble cough broke her out of her daze, and the yellow dragoness raised her head groggily. Blinking through the darkness, she saw the white form of Zephira splayed out across the cushions. She was moving, her paws clenching weakly against the fabric of the cushions. Even from the other side of the room, Saffron could see her blinking.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Saffron stood up and stepped away from the fast-asleep Zannak. Her brother didn't stir. Quietly, the yellow dragoness padded to Zephira's side. The white dragoness's violet eyes were roving randomly, but upon Saffron's approach they focused on her. Zephira's mouth moved, but nothing came out. Blinking, the white dragoness licked her lips and tried again. The tiniest of sighs escaped her lips, but nothing more.

"Zeph…" Saffron whispered. Her eyes were somehow full of hope and anguish at the same time. She leaned down to nuzzle the white dragoness.

"Whhh…" Zephira wheezed, her throat dry and raspy, "Whh…ere?"

Saffron frowned anxiously, "What was that?"

"Where…" Zephira rasped, swallowing dryly, "am I? Hurts…"

Saffron's eyes stung with tears, "You're in the infirmary, Zephira. How do you feel?"

The white dragoness took a shaky breath and tried to raise her head, but failed. Her eyes were staring desperately at Saffron, begging for answers. She was confused and disorientated.

"Everything…hurts," Zephira whimpered, her body trembling, "It aches. My wing…"

Saffron nuzzled her again, her eyes closed, "It's ok. The pain will go away soon. I promise."

"Why?" Zephira asked huskily, "Why am I here?"

Saffron hesitated and asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

Zephira's brow furrowed and Saffron could tell she was thinking hard. Anxiously, the electric dragoness watched her friend's face. Would she remember watching Ciro die? Would she remember the pain as the panthers hacked away at her wing? Saffron hoped she didn't. Those memories would haunt her forever.

"I remember we came back to Warfang," Zephira said at last, still frowning, her voice growing stronger, "I remember we chased the panthers out of the city. We were helping the injured…I remember talking to you. Then…then Ciro and I went to go find a hatchling. Yes…Spyro heard it crying, and we went to go find it."

The white dragoness fell silent, staring into space. Then she spoke again, her voice fractured, "It was in a courtyard. I remember it was hurt. There were…oh…oh ancestors…there were panthers…"

Her voice broke and fear entered her violet eyes, "Th-they attacked. I-I was so afraid. So afraid. Ciro was – was yelling at me. I can't remember…I can't remember. The hatchling; I had to get it away! I-I threw it…I told it to go for help. I-I called for help. No one…no one came. And I…pain – so much pain. My wing…"

She broke off, her eyes glassy and stammered, "I-I can't remember. I can't remember. Ciro…Ciro!"

Zephira tried to sit up suddenly, her eyes wild, but Saffron held her down as gently as she could. The white dragoness hardly struggled, and there was pain on her face. The electric dragoness could see several lacerations on her body that had yet to be healed. No doubt they were causing her pain. Zephira's desperate eyes settled on her best friend, begging for answers – for conformation that everything was ok.

But Saffron's eyes were full of inner pain, and she didn't answer. Trembling, the white dragoness spoke once more.

"Ciro," she said, her voice breaking, "Where is Ciro?"

Saffron looked away, unspeaking. Zephira's voice became desperate.

"Where is he? Where is my brother?"

Saffron's voice was choked with tears, "He's gone, Zephira. He's gone."

Zephira's violet eyes dilated, "G-Gone? What do you mean gone? Where…where is he? Tell me!"

Saffron stifled a sob and met her eyes, "I mean he's gone, Zephira! He's not coming back."

Had there been any colour in Zephira's scales, it would have drained from her face in that moment. Her eyes filled with unspeakable horror – unwilling disbelief. She shook her head feebly, her mouth moving soundlessly.

"No…" she stammered, "No, that can't be right. He'd never leave me. N-never."

"I'm sorry," Saffron choked, tears rolling down her topaz cheeks, "I'm so sorry. We tried…we really tried. But we couldn't do anything. Ciro's gone, Zephira. Forever."

"No!" Zephira head shot up as she cried out in anguish, "No, I don't believe that! It's not true!"

Her desperate, tear-filled eyes met Saffron's, "Tell me it's not true!"

But Saffron's only reply was to step forward and hug her, wrapping her wings around the trembling wind dragon's shoulders. Zephira sat as still as possible, staring disbelievingly at the dark wall on the other side of the room. She could feel Saffron's stifled sobs shaking her body, and the tears from her own eyes started to fall. She felt numb, her mind was clouded and it felt like only the pain of her injuries kept her out of a disbelieving, horror-filled daze.

"He was protecting you," Saffron whispered against the scales of her neck, "He didn't want you to get hurt. I tried to save him, but I…I was too late. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

Zephira's tears fell soundlessly. She curled up in Saffron's hold and closed her eyes, willing it all to go away. This was all just a nightmare, nothing more. Soon she would wake from it; she had to. Nightmares never lasted forever. But Zephira couldn't bring herself to believe that this was a nightmare from which she would never awaken.

"He's not gone… he can't be gone…"

Silence fell in the dark infirmary. Across the room, Zannak lay with his head on his paws. His sad teal eyes lingered on the dragonesses as they embraced, and he knew he could do nothing to help. The pale light of the red moon seeped in through the window, washing the walls in blood, unhindered by its green twin. Zannak wondered if Ciro's spirit was watching from the stars.

By midday the next day, after another few gem treatments, Zephira was strong enough to stand. The remains of her left wing had been strapped to her side for comfort, as there was little the gems could do for it. The white dragons had said nothing about her ruined wing. Whether she understood what the consequences of such an injury were or not, Saffron didn't know. By then, the knowledge of her brother's death had finally sunk in.

That afternoon, she asked Saffron to take her to her brother's grave. At first the yellow dragoness was a little reluctant, but the stricken look on Zephira's face made up her mind. Sooner or later, the wind dragoness would look upon her brother's final resting place. And Saffron knew it would be better if a friend was by her side when she did.

It was a slow walk through the city to the cemetery outside the western wall. Zephira took each step slowly, careful not to jolt the mangled remains of her wing. She leant heavily on Saffron the whole way there, and never looked up from her paws. To Saffron, the wind dragoness felt lost and fragile under her wing.

The cemetery was void of life when they got there. A warm breeze blew, dancing through dry grass and caressing the scales of the dragonesses. After a time, they came to a stop in front of a slab of stone, engraved with a simple passage. Zephira's eyes lingered on the stone-hewn words.

_Here lies Ciro, Ice dragon, citizen of Warfang. _

_He was a caring brother and a friend to all. _

_He died a hero well before his time, _

_but he will never be forgotten. _

_May the ancestors welcome him with open paws._

Her eyes were dry as she stared at the earth, under which her brother lay in eternal sleep. Numbly, she heard Saffron say something but she hardly heard the words. Zephira felt lost and alone, like the whole world had just deserted her. Ciro had been her pillar of strength; without him, she felt like she would crumble to dust at any moment.

For a long time, Zephira just stared at the grave, wishing she could awake from this horrible, lonesome dream. Her heart was made from the thinnest of ice, dissolving in the warm air of spring. She wanted to curl up and forget everything. Why was the world still here, she wondered? What was there to exist for now that Ciro was gone?

"We should head back," Saffron's voice sounded foggy and far away, "It's getting late. The others wanted to see you this evening. Come on."

Everything should have crumbled to dust, Zephira thought, hardly hearing Saffron's words. Ciro was gone; and he was never coming back. The world should have shrivelled and died, like a flower left without water for too long; like her heart, which was slowly breaking into icy shards of sorrow.

"Come on," Saffron repeated gently, and Zephira allowed herself to be steered away from Ciro's grave. Her gaze lingered on his tombstone for as long as possible, before she turned away and slipped back into the city.

Burdock was a panther quite unlike any other. Not only was he clumsy, excitable, nervous and rather chubby, but he was descended from a long line of ancestors all of whom could trace their history back to Sablefur's loyal friend Thistle. Proof of such could be found not just in the maps that had been passed on to him years ago by his father, but by the tuft of white fur on his chest that all descendants of Thistle had been said to bear.

He was not the best of fighters – far from it, indeed – but Skulk and Skelos had seen fit to take him along in case they had need of Sablefur's maps. And no panther knew better how to read them than Burdock himself. During the battle, he'd stayed lurking in the forest under orders from Skelos to stay put and keep the maps safe. Which, as was no surprise, Burdock was only too happy to do.

Always eager to please, Burdock wasted no time when the twins summoned him that night. He'd been awake anyway, which wasn't unusual, perusing through Sablefur's notes like he did on restless nights. Rolling up the scrolls, the chubby panther scampered a little too eagerly over to his impatient masters. Skulk looked disgruntled – but then, he supposed, Skulk always looked disgruntled. Skelos, on the other hand, seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

"Did you bring the maps, Burdock?" he asked the excitable panther.

"Of course, of course!" Burdock chuckled heartily, juggling several scrolls in his paws, and sat down with a bump, "Anything for the masters. What was it you needed? The Dragon City? The Valley of Avalar? The Desert Plains? The Western Mountains?"

Scrolls tumbled out of his paws as he rattled off the names of several of Sablefur's maps. But Skelos held up a paw to silence him and he quickly shut his mouth, looking sheepish.

"We want the world map, Burdock," Skelos explained, "I assume you have it?"

"O' course!" the plump panther looked almost aghast, "If I didn't have it, I'd be disgrace! No respectable descendant o' Thistle would ever lose, misplace or leave behind one o' Sablefur's precious maps! Yes, yes, I have it right here…er…somewhere…"

Burdock fumbled through the many scrolls packed into his jackal-skin pouch, mumbling to himself. Skulk cast him a disdainful, impatient look, then rolled his eyes and looked away again. Unlike Skelos, Skulk had never been able to put up with the clumsy Burdock. He was sure Thistle had never been this clumsy, or he and Sablefur wouldn't have lived nearly as long as they had.

"Ah, here!" Burdock exclaimed triumphantly moments later, pulling a rolled-up scroll from his bag. Skulk promptly snatched it from his grasp, ignoring the plump panther's stutters of protest.

Untying the piece of fabric that secured the cylinder of parchment, Skulk carefully spread the map out on the ground, on a patch where the grass didn't grow. Skelos placed his paw on one corner as the scroll attempted to roll back in on itself. Together, the twins peered at the detailed image laid out before them. The world was laid out at their claw-tips – an object ready to be manipulated. From the Badlands to the Western Mountains and beyond, the Dragon Temple, Avalar, and Warfang, and even places far beyond where no panther had walked since Sablefur himself – it was all here.

Skelos traced his paw over the map, from Warfang to the Badlands, stopping at the empty plain between, where he and his panthers were currently residing. Sablefur had scrawled two words in spiky handwriting over the image of the plain. _Desert Plains. _

"That's where we are, masters," Burdock chimed in excitedly, "The Desert Plains. Nearer to the Badlands than to Warfang. Should take another day or two to get back."

Skelos didn't respond to those words. Instead he asked bluntly, "Where is Concurrent Skies?"

At first Burdock was surprised by the question, but the chubby panther quickly stifled his surprise and stretched out a paw towards the map. The twins watched as Burdock's paw slid from the Desert Plains up past the badlands and towards the west. He stopped at a dark area of the map, his claw lingering just above two words scrawled in white letters.

_Concurrent Skies._

"That's it, Master Skelos," said Burdock, "Nasty place that is – or was, at least, during the Dark Master's time. Infected with apes and Dreadwings, it was. Sablefur almost met his match there. Nasty beasts, them Dreadwings."

Skelos's gaze lingered on the scrawled title as he asked, "How long will it take to get there on foot?"

Burdock breathed in through his teeth – a common habit of his whenever he was asked a difficult question. Taping his chin, he replied, "Hard to say, really. Four, five days? A week at most. But, if you pardon me saying, sir, t'aint a place you'd wanna be going to."

"I'll decide that for myself," Skelos replied coolly, "There's something there I need."

Burdock glanced up from the map, "You aint seriously considering going there, sir? T'aint the nicest of places. You might never come out."

"Oh, I won't be going alone," Skelos said calmly, his blue eyes glinting, "You'll all be coming with me."

Burdock paled beneath his fur, "…ah."

Skulk leaned forwards suddenly, "One more thing, Burdock. Do Sablefur's notes say anything about creatures called Death Hounds?"

"Death Hounds?" the plump panther thought for a moment before his eyes lit up again, "Ah, them beasts! Had a few nasty run-ins with 'em he did, Sablefur. Let's see what he's got…"

Another few clumsy moments passed before Burdock managed to fish out a smaller scroll and hand it to Skulk. The blue-eyed panther unrolled the scroll and found himself staring at a sketched illustration of a creature that looked like it had walked out of a nightmare. It had a bulky body with a squashed face a little like that of a wolf with its snout squashed in, and fangs protruding from its lower jaw. Its back half, unlike its furred upper body, was protected with scaled skin and it sported a tail very similar to that of a dragon's.

"Ugly things, aint they?" Burdock grinned. Skulk shot him a look and he quickly shut up.

"What does it say about them?" Skelos asked, looking over his brother's shoulder.

Skulk's eyes shifted from the less-than-attractive image to the passage scrawled underneath in Sablefur's rather untidy handwriting. The name 'Swamp Hound' had been scribbled just below the image, and an untidy note had been added beside it – _known as Death Hounds after being tamed by the apes of the Dark Master's army._

Frowning, Skulk began to read the passage.

_There are many creatures in this world that branch from the canine side of the family, but none more aggressive than the dreaded Swamp Hound. Inhabiting the poisonous swamps and forests of the Ancient Grove, these fearful beasts are to be avoided at any cost. Highly territorial and sporting a strength rivalled only by the Swamp Ogres, Swamp Hounds will attack anything that sets foot within the boundaries of their territory. _

_Despite their bulky build, these hounds can reach incredible speeds when charging prey – or an intruder. Highly sturdy, there is little that can threaten such a dangerous beast. They have been known to live peacefully alongside Grove Giants and even hunt together at times when prey is scarce. Like the other inhabitants of the Grove, the poisonous plants and water do not harm the Swamp Hound. In fact, research suggests that such poisonous waters and flora may in fact sustain the hounds during times when they are unable to hunt for prey…_

"Ancient Grove?" Skelos said suddenly, interrupting Skulk's thoughts. Clearly he'd been reading over his twin's shoulder, "I've never heard of it."

"Well, wherever it is, it's where these Death…er, Swamp Hounds can be found," Skulk replied thoughtfully. He turned to ask Burdock if he knew of the grove, but the chubby panther was already well ahead of him.

"Got the Ancient Grove right here, sirs," he beamed, brandishing another scroll, "You can see it on that map, too."

Burdock pointed to the world map, which was still laid out on the ground. Skulk followed the path of his pointing claw, and saw that he was pointing towards a large island just off from the mainland. Several words had been scrawled on different parts of the island, including 'Dragon Temple', 'Swamp' and, further down, 'Ancient Grove'.

"Island o' Swamps, Sablefur called it," Burdock said, laying out another map beside the first, "Big place. Said to be home to several dragons back in his time."

The other map that Burdock had laid out was a larger version of the island that had been marked on the world map. Skulk could see an image of what was obviously the Dragon Temple sketched at the north end of the island. Down by the south island was a darker section, covered in trees and cut through by a bright purple river. The words 'Ancient Grove' were written in white across it.

For a long time, Skulk just stared at the map, his thoughts ticking over. Eventually he sat back and glanced at his twin, who was evidently also thinking.

"What do we do?" he asked, folding his arms.

Skelos stared down at the map, licking his lips as he thought. After a time he replied, "I think we need to split up."

Skulk cocked his head, "What makes you say that?"

"Listen, to even stand a chance against the dragons, we're going to need a lot more than what we've already got. The Dreadwings will be a good start, if we're lucky – they'll give us flight and magic. But having the Death Hounds on our side will only increase the odds in our favour. They can bulk out our numbers and provide us with extra strength; strength we currently don't have. They worked for the apes; I don't see why they won't work for us."

Skulk shrugged, "So we split up and go after them ourselves?"

"My thoughts exactly," Skelos replied, "I'll take half our panthers to Concurrent Skies and try to find the Dreadwings. You take the rest to this Ancient Grove and capture us those Death Hounds or Swamp Hounds or whatever they're called. It'll be quicker if we split up."

Skulk stared at the map for awhile before he spoke again, "I'm going to need boats. We can't swim all the way to the island, and without wings we can't fly. That's going to take up valuable time."

Suddenly Burdock cut in, "Ah, they're might be a solution to that, sirs. See, this here waterway," – he traced the stretch of ocean between the mainland and the island – "it was once patrolled heavily by the ape fleets. They had mighty big boats, you see, equipped with cannons and the lot. Wanted to stop the dragons on the island speakin' to the ones on the mainland, if you ask me."

"What's your point?" Skulk asked, still frowning.

"Well the war's over now, aint it?" Burdock replied, scratching the short fur on his head, "But them boats had to have gone somewhere. I'd bet me fur they've washed up on this 'ere beach – what's left of 'em, that is."

He pointed with a claw to the thin stretch of beach along the mainland, slightly to the west of the island. Skulk's eyes lit up like spirit gems.

"We could repair their boats and use them to cross the strait!" he exclaimed in a hoarse voice, "Genius! For once you've managed to impress me, Burdock."

Burdock shrugged, grinning awkwardly, "T'aint nothing, sir. Just a lot'a nights spent readin' ol' Sablefur's notes."

"So, are we agreed?" Skelos cut in impatiently, eying his brother. Skulk opened his mouth to reply, but then it seemed like another thought had struck him and he frowned. Skelos frowned too. "What?"

"The purple dragon," Skulk replied, after a moment of thought, "What do we do about him? Now that we've got no spies in Warfang, how are we going to keep track of him?"

"We've always got this," Skelos replied, pulling something out of his tunic pocket. It was a smooth, domed tracking gem, about the size of the pad of his paw. Its twin was currently set in a certain black dragoness's necklace, disguised as an emerald.

"Right, the tracking gem…" Skulk muttered thoughtfully, a hand on his chin, "But is it enough?"

"It's enough for us to always know what he's up to," Skelos replied, "As long as his mate is always around him."

He squeezed the tracking gem lightly and it crackled softly in his paw. Moments later a projection appeared above his paw, shimmering in the night air. A flash of purple scales was seen and, when the image stabilised, they could see the sleeping face of the purple dragon. He looked restless and disturbed, his eyelids twitching as he dreamed. Skelos released the tracking gem from his grip and the image dissolved into thin air.

"But is it really enough?" Skulk asked again, "We need a plan, some way of getting rid of him. He's too much trouble to keep alive. While he's around, we hardly have a chance of bringing Warfang down and taking Avalar."

"You're right," Skelos replied, a grin curling his mouth, "You've just given me an idea. I know just the dragon for the job."

Skulk's eyes widened, "You don't mean…?"

"How many other dragons would be willing to help us?" Skelos replied, a little edgily, "No, he's the only one."

Skulk snorted and shrugged, "And you always told me to leave him be. Whatever. What're you going to offer him to get him to help us?"

Skelos's eyes flashed, "Nothing. The knowledge that it's the purple dragon should be more than enough motivation for him. I'll stop by the Badlands on my way to Concurrent Skies and speak with him."

"It's settled then. I'll take half our warriors to the Ancient Grove to capture the Death Hounds, and you'll head to Concurrent Skies to seek out those Dreadwings. Meet back here in two weeks, no more. Agreed?"

Skelos slapped his paw against his brother's, "Agreed. We leave at dawn."

Burdock just stared incredulously at the both of them, wondering just what the two of them were getting themselves into. Likely they'd take the entire panther clan along for the ride. Burdock just hoped he wouldn't have to tag along again. His bed back at the panther village felt like it was calling him.

No one noticed the figure hiding in the grasses, watching with eager eyes under the hood of a cloak. And no one noticed as the figure slipped away, shrouded by the shadows of night, heading back towards the Dragon City and the Valley of Avalar.

**A/N: Ah, so many questions in this chapter. Who is the mysterious figure in the shadows? Who is the dragon Skelos was talking about? And who is that dragon Cynder saw in her dream? Well that's for me to know and you to find out. ^^ So anyway, I was wondering the other day, how does one get noticed on this site? I mean, why have I gotten so much attention? How did you guys find me? That makes me curious. **

**Another question, this time because I'm bored and feel like asking; which is your favourite Spyro game out of all the ones you've played? For me it's gotta be either the original, classic Spyro the Dragon, or The Eternal Night. But because I like them both for different reasons, I can't actually decide on one. xD**

**Thanks a super duper awesome bunch to all my reviewers. I'd send you all flowers if I could. And chocolates. Everyone likes chocolate. Someone's going to prove me wrong and tell me they don't like chocolate now, aren't they? **

**One more thing before I leave you: this month I'm participating in NaNoWriMo. If you don't know what it is, look it up. But, in short, I'm attempting to write a 50 000 word novel before the end of the month of November. I might not update again until December because of this, so I figured I should warn you. Wish me luck!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Guess who's back? And it's not even December yet. ;) Anyway, I wanted to address something important that I've been stressing over; the last two chapters have been quite depressing, and some of you have expressed concerns about that. But I wanted you to know that the story won't continue down this vein for too long. This is a dark story, yes, but that doesn't mean that from this point on, every chapter is going to be gloomy and depressing.**

**A big part of why I write this story is because I want people to enjoy it. So I guess I was kind of dispirited when I found out people haven't been enjoying the latest chapters that much. But then I could have hit myself. Of _course_ you weren't going to enjoy chapters as hopelessly depressing as the last two have been. So I'm sorry for worrying some of you, but please trust that I won't leave you drowning in miserable chapters forever.**

**Promise.**

**Anyway, thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)**

**16.**

He was hanging above Warfang, somehow floating in the sky without the aid of his wings. Neither cool wind nor heat from the sun could he feel, and his vision was oddly blurred around the edges, like he was looking through frosted glass. Then, slowly, he began to move.

The horizon loomed closer, but he wasn't beating his wings. As far as he was aware, he wasn't moving at all; no, it seemed the earth was rushing past him. He felt nothing; he was merely an observer within his own mind. On he rushed, over field and forest, faster than he'd ever flown; faster than any dragon could ever fly.

The sea sped by beneath him without halt, and he saw the Dragon Temple below for a split second before that too passed. Over the swamp and the Ancient Grove; he saw the bright poisonous river winding through the trees. The ocean beyond loomed and rushed past beneath him; his eyes were fixed on the hazy horizon.

Past strange rock formations and links of tiny islands, he sped across the wide expanse of water. Then the skies darkened and filled with undulating waves of multicoloured light, and a giant island of stone rose out of the sea to greet him. There he stopped and gazed upon it, until a disembodied voice rang through his head.

'_Hurry, Spyro.'_

Spyro's eyes snapped open and he sat up sharply, nostrils flaring. A dark, empty room greeted him, full of light from the red moon. A gentle breeze swept through the balcony archway, and caused the nest hanging from the roof to sway with a soft creak. Sparx slept on.

With another glance around the room to ensure he really was alone, Spyro rose shakily to his feet. He stepped off the cushion he'd been laying on and padded silently across the cold floor to the balcony. Outside, the cool wind nipped tauntingly at his violet scales. The pale light of the red moon turned his scales almost pink.

'_Was that a sign?'_ Spyro wondered, staring out across the silent, sleeping city, _'Did the Chronicler just show me the way?'_

Three days had passed now since they had returned to the city; since Ciro's death. Zephira's body was slowly healing, but her emotional scars would take far longer to heal, if they ever did. Spyro had not slept well ever since. Even Cynder's presence had been unable to help him sleep.

He had sent her back to her room that evening, insisting that she get some sleep without him waking her every hour. His dreams and nightmares continued to haunt his sleepless mind, and woke him many times during the night. It was better that Cynder got her own rest, Spyro decided. She needed it as much as he did.

But lately, now that the shock of Ciro's loss and the panther attack had slowly faded, Spyro had found his tormented thoughts returning to the quest he'd failed to complete. The Chronicler was still waiting for him, of that he was sure. And this most recent dream seemed to confirm that. He was being called.

'_What am I to do?'_ Spyro thought, _'I can't stay here while the Chronicler still calls to me. But how can I ask the others to come with me after what happened? I can't ask them to forget everything and help me… That's too selfish.'_

The red moon glistened in his sad eyes, _'What do I do, Ignitus?'_

For hours he sat there that night, half dozing under the pale moonlight. Dreams and thoughts intermingled in his half-awake state, and twice he started upright with fear when he thought he heard a high, cold laugh that he knew was his own. As Spyro dozed, he saw the faces of his friends swimming before his eyes – angry, accusing, betrayed.

_It was your fault…your fault…!_

"You ok, Spyro?"

The purple dragon jolted up with a start, looking around wildly. But he relaxed when he saw it was just Sparx hovering by his side. The first fingers of sunrise were creeping across the dark sky now.

"You're up early," Spyro observed quietly, glancing at the dragonfly. Sparx shrugged.

"Eh, you know, had a weird dream. I tell ya, it was _strange_. There you and I were, back in the swamp like the ol' days, and Dad was telling us off for exploring – you know, like he always did. And then all of a sudden he turned into a Frogweed and started trying to eat me! And you were just laughing!"

"So anyway, I was about to get gobbled by this overgrown fungus monster, when Cynder appears! And – this is the weird part – she's wearing an eye patch! So she starts blabbering on about the high seas or whatever, and waving around this hook that she had instead of a paw. 'Cept she sorta didn't sound like Cynder, more like that annoying parrot thing I beat the crap out of – you remember? I was all bam-swoosh!"

"Good memories, man, good memories," grinning, Sparx leant an arm on one of Spyro's horns. The purple dragon cocked an eyebrow at him.

"So what happened to, uh…dream Cynder?"

"Dunno, I woke up," Sparx shrugged, "But it was creepy! Remind me to remind her never to get an eye patch."

"I'll keep it in mind," Spyro replied wryly, with a half-hearted smirk. Somehow Sparx always seemed to be able to lift the mood. Still, the purple dragon could feel his worries weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"You look like you've got a lot on your mind," Sparx piped up, "something wrong, Spyro buddy? You know, you're up awfully early too. You weren't dreaming about pirate Cynder too, were you?"

Spyro shook his head, "It's nothing, Sparx. I just don't know what to do…"

"Just tell Cynder she wouldn't look any good as a pirate, I'm sure she'd listen…"

"No, Sparx! I'm talking about the Chronicler!"

"Oh."

Spyro sighed heavily, "I just…I need to find him; whatever he has to say, it's got to be something important or he wouldn't have summoned me. But, after what happened, I can't just ask Cynder and the others to come with me! They're all still recovering, and asking them to desert the city just to help me doesn't seem fair. I don't know what to do."

"Um, hello?" Sparx flew around to face Spyro, grabbing him by the nostrils, "If you don't wanna ask them, let's just go!"

Spyro blinked bemusedly, "What?"

"Come _on_, Spyro," Sparx insisted, sounding almost exasperated, "It's not like you and Cynder are still _chained_ together. Let's just leave them here and go! You and me, Sparx and Spyro, on the road to adventure! Just like old times, you know?"

The purple dragon stared at the dragonfly hovering on his nose, almost turning cross-eyed, "You…think we can?"

"Why not?" Sparx exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, "No one's stopping us! Let's just get out of here and go see the creepy old geezer and his creepy moon temple! Just you and me, no one holding us back!"

Spyro felt a grin creeping onto his face despite himself, "You know it isn't like you to volunteer for something like this."

"Yeah well, maybe I'm sick of hanging around," Sparx grumbled, folding his arms, "Especially when you and Cynder are being all lovey-dovey and ignoring me."

He made a disgusted sound and stuck out his tongue, to Spyro's embarrassment and amusement. But his words had done the trick, and the purple dragon was suddenly full of the drive for adventure. He could hardly believe he hadn't considered it before. After all, he and Sparx had been on many an adventure together and always come out on top. They could take care of themselves, and this way Spyro wouldn't have to worry about asking his friends for help.

"Yeah…" the purple dragon said, eagerness building, "Maybe we should just go ourselves. I'm sure Cynder will understand. And besides, it was me the Chronicler called, not them."

"So what are we waiting for?" Sparx asked eagerly, grinning wildly, "Let's get this show on the road!"

Spyro had just spread his orangey-red wings when he seemed to remember something. Telling Sparx to hold on, he hurried back into his room and sought out a pot of ink and a few scraps of parchment that had been left on the mostly empty bookshelf. Plucking the quill from the ink pot and grabbing a piece of parchment, the purple dragon quickly scrawled a small note for Cynder.

Then, setting the ink pot and quill back on the bookshelf, he placed the note on the top of his bed of cushions where he was sure it would be seen. With a nod of satisfaction, Spyro turned and cantered back out onto the balcony.

"Ready now?" Sparx asked impatiently, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Spyro hesitated and glanced back. But he shook his head before any guilty second thoughts could take hold, and turned back to face the horizon. With a determined nod, he said "Let's go", and sprang off from the balcony. Sparx zipped after him.

"Oh yeah!" the dragonfly called, "Here we come, creepy moon temple! Sparx is on his way!"

Together, the pair soared away from the city, into the dark, dawn sky.

Cynder woke late that morning. The mid-morning sun was already streaming across her room when she finally yawned and opened her eyes. She found herself feeling very refreshed from her long sleep than night, and was feeling almost glad that she'd listened to Spyro and slept in her own room for once. But then guilt crept up on her and her wings drooped.

"I bet Spyro hardly slept at all, while I was dozing the night away like a hatchling," she muttered bitterly. Standing up, she stretched out her body like a cat, and then padded softly to the door. "I'll go see him."

Cynder walked briskly through the corridors, passing a few young dragons on her way to Spyro's room. She smiled and greeted them all politely, hiding her inner worries about the purple dragon. Minutes later she was standing outside his door, wondering if he was awake or even in his room.

She knocked twice on the door with her tailblade and waited, but there was no answer. Shrugging, Cynder carefully edged the door open and peeked into the room. Bright sunlight crept across the empty cushions of Spyro's bed, and the hanging nest was also vacant. There was no sign of the purple dragon or his dragonfly brother. Frowning, Cynder wondered where he could have gone.

"Maybe he went to check on Zephira at the infirmary," she thought aloud and made to close the door, but something caught her eye. A scrap of parchment lay on one of Spyro's bright yellow cushions, trembling as the light breeze threatened to blow it away. Cynder frowned and pushed through the door into the room.

"What is this?" she asked herself, reaching out to grab the parchment. It fluttered in her claws as she drew it towards her, noticing the hastily scrawled message written in ink upon it.

_Cynder,_

_I'm sorry for not telling you, but I have gone to find the Chronicler. I'm not alone, Sparx is with me. Don't worry about us, we'll be fine._

_Please don't follow us. I know there's still a lot on everyone's minds, so it didn't feel right to ask you all to come with me this time. Tell everyone I'm sorry, and please take care of Zephira. She needs you more than I do._

_Sparx and I will be back soon, I promise._

_I love you._

_Spyro._

It took Cynder a moment to take in what she had just read. She stared at the hastily scrawled message, reading it over and over again, certain she'd missed something. A hand had taken hold of her heart and was slowly squeezing harder and harder. Her emerald eyes started blankly at the parchment, horrified.

Then, with a cry of anguish, the black dragoness crushed the piece of parchment, hurled it across the room, and then dashed out into the corridor. She ran as fast as she could, sprinting down the stairs and out into the streets, practically blind in her panic. As such, she didn't see the figure in front of her, and only realised when she crashed into something warm and solid and heard a cry.

"Saffron!" Cynder yelped, staggering upright and away from the dragoness she'd knocked down, "Are you ok?"

Saffron sat up slowly, rubbing a graze on her cheek, "Mmhm…I'm fine. What's the hurry, Cynder?"

The black dragoness mouthed wordlessly for a moment, to the electric dragoness's confusion. But at last Cynder found her words, and they spilled from her mouth in a rush.

"Spyro's gone!" she exclaimed, "I wasn't with him last night, so I went to go see him just now, but his room was empty! There was a note on his bed saying that he's gone off the find the Chronicler himself!"

"He's gone alone?" Saffron asked in surprise, her violet eyes widening.

"Well no, he's got Sparx with him," Cynder admitted, then shook her head roughly, "But that's not the point! I can't believe he'd just get up and leave like this, without even telling us! It's dangerous out there for a lone dragon!"

Saffron held up a paw, "Hold on, Cynder. Let's think about this. Spyro is the legendary purple dragon, right? When he was just a hatchling he saved the guardians, defeated you, and killed Gaul, the Dark Master's right-hand ape, all on his _own_. Right? I know you're worried about him, but I really think he can take care of himself. If he didn't want us with him, I guess that's his choice…"

"No!" Cynder yelped, and Saffron sat back with a start, "You don't understand! Spyro's not the dragon he used to be!"

"Cynder…what are you talking about?"

The black dragoness swallowed and took a deep breath, looking very distressed, "You've seen how Spyro's been acting lately – we all have. He's losing control more and more; it's like he's slowly losing his grip on who he really is. He's getting stronger in body, but his mind just seems to be getting weaker and weaker. After everything he's been through, it's all starting to get to him…"

"I-I hate to say this about him," she continued, her eyes glistening with what could only be unshed tears, "but I think he's slowly coming undone. With every battle I can see a part of him dissolve and fade away – he's losing himself. And he's becoming something he's _not_. I'm scared for him, Saffron. He can't be out there alone with only Sparx. Maybe he could have a few years ago, but the Spyro I know now is becoming more fragile with every passing day."

"We _have_ to go after him," Cynder finished in a whisper, her voice choking up.

Saffron stared at her with both incredulity and fear. For a moment it seemed like she didn't have an answer, but then she licked her lips nervously and murmured, "You really think that Spyro's losing it?"

Reluctantly, Cynder nodded. She didn't want to believe it either, but everything she had seen so far of Spyro recently pointed to the slow destruction of his very soul. He was becoming a creature that was not the legendary purple dragon, or the dragon she loved. He was becoming something she feared with every fibre of her being.

"If we're not out there with him, who knows what could happen?" she whispered anxiously, "What if he loses control and we're not there to stop him? He's a danger to himself and everything around him in the state he's in. Even Sparx is in danger, and I'm willing to bet he doesn't even realise it. We need to find them, Saffron, as soon as we can."

Determination turned the yellow dragoness's expression to steel, "Right. I'll find Kazan and my brother. Meet back here as soon as we've found them. We'll find Spyro, Cynder, don't worry."

"Thank you," Cynder called after Saffron as the yellow dragoness cantered away. Then, swallowing her apprehension, she turned and hurried off in search of Ember and Flame.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, a small group was gathered in the western courtyard. Cynder paced in front of the five dragons, backwards and forwards, and they followed her every move, waiting for her to speak. But the black dragoness seemed to be having trouble finding the words she wanted to speak.

"Look, Cynder, what is this about?" Flame insisted impatiently, "All you said to us was that Spyro was gone and to come back with you to the courtyard. What now? Are we going after Spyro or what?"

"Yes," Cynder said suddenly, stopping and taking a breath to calm herself, "That's exactly what we're doing. We're going to go after Spyro, and I'm asking you all to come with me."

"Why?" Kazan asked bluntly, "Last I checked, Spyro could take care of himself. And clearly he doesn't feel the need to have us trailing after him, or he wouldn't have left on his own."

"You know, I think Kazan's right," Zannak agreed, and then grinned, "As strange as that sounds."

Kazan shot him a dirty look. Cynder seemed to bristle with anger.

"Why don't any of you understand?" she snapped, and they all jumped. "You've all been around Spyro recently, you've all seen the way he's been acting, the way he's been losing control more and more with every battle! Why am I the only one who can see that something is terribly _wrong_ with him? He's losing _himself_. Can't you see that?"

"Now that you mention it," Flame muttered, and everyone turned to look at him, "Spyro has been pretty off lately. I mean, jeez; attacking Chasm like that; yelling at us? There's definitely something not quite right about how he's been acting lately. It's like he's becoming a whole different dragon."

"_Exactly_," Cynder hissed, and then sat back looking upset, "I'm worried about him. I'm scared about what he's becoming and what will happen if we don't stop this from happening. That's why I need your help."

"Why do you need us?" Saffron asked softly, "What can we do to help a dragon that's losing his mind?"

Cynder sighed, "You are all his friends, aren't you? You – we – are exactly what Spyro needs right now. He's slowly losing himself to the darkness, but if anyone can help him, we can. He needs us to be his friends; to care about him, laugh with him, even cry with him. He needs to know that we care about him more than he realises; that he is irreplaceable to us. Somehow, we can bring him out of the darkness. I know we can."

"Save him with friendship," Flame snorted and grinned, "It's so corny. But if you think it'll work, then we'll give it a shot. I'm not about to lose Spyro to this evil version of himself or whatever, not until I've beaten him fair and square."

"Corny or not, friends are what will save Spyro, I'm sure of it," Cynder said, glaring at Flame, "and the more friends he has, the greater our chance of saving him is. He needs every one of us. We will save him. I know it."

Kazan stood up and ruffled his wings, "Guess that means we're off on another adventure, right?"

"Hold on," Saffron interrupted, staring hard at Cynder, "What about Zephira? She's coming too, right?"

A silence fell. Everyone stared at their paws and said nothing, but Cynder gazed sadly at Saffron, her eyes full of regret.

"I'm sorry," the black dragoness murmured, "But she can't come."

Saffron's violet eyes widened, "What? But why? She's Spyro's friend too! And she's o_ur_ friend! We can't just desert her!"

"Without her wing, Zephira is no longer able to fly," said a new voice, and everyone turned in surprise to see who it was. Roku was striding slowly towards them, Domino on his heels.

"And without flight, she'll only slow you down," the black earth dragon concluded grimly. Domino seemed to understand that this was a serious matter, for he was not bouncing around his older brother like he usually did – instead he was standing solemnly by his side.

"Roku," Cynder greeted in surprise. The black dragon bowed his head.

"Forgive me," he said, "I was just passing when I heard you talking, and couldn't help but intervene."

"You're going on an adventure, aren't you?" Domino asked Cynder eagerly, wide green eyes twinkling with excitement. Roku scooped the little dragon closer to him with a single paw.

"Hush, Domino," he said sternly, and then looked up at Cynder again, "Forgive me if I seem a little forward, but if you plan on going after the purple dragon, I should like to offer my services to assist you."

Cynder was stunned, "You…you want to come along?"

"If you will have me."

The black dragoness smiled and nodded once. Domino opened his mouth, most likely about to ask if he could come too, but Saffron beat him to it.

"If he can come with us, why can't Zephira?" she cried, almost indignantly.

"Because, like Roku said, Zephira can no longer fly," Cynder replied sadly, "I'm sorry, but…"

"She'll only be a burden to us," Flame continued grimly, "Though I hate to say it. She can't come with us."

No one else said anything. Saffron stared around at them incredulously, mouthing wordlessly. Domino was shifted edgily, clearly eager to speak but knowing this wasn't the time.

"So…so that's it? You're all just going to desert her?" Saffron's voice was trembling with disbelief, "You're just gonna get up and leave with even thinking about her?"

"Saffron…"

"No!" The yellow dragoness backed away, aghast, "Zephira needs us too! We're her friends! She's just lost her brother and her wing, and now her friends are just going to desert her? That isn't right!"

"No one is forcing you to come, Saffron," Cynder murmured, "No one is forcing any of you to come. Spyro needs you; all of you. But Zephira needs you, too. It's your choice."

"Choose…?" Saffron's eyes were darting from side to side, like a rabbit trying to escape from the gaze of a predator, "Choose? How am I supposed to choose between them?"

Then, with a cry of "I need some time to think!" she turned and cantered away. Zannak swore under his breath and stood up.

"Why does she always do this…?" He started to say, turning to follow her. But he'd hardly taken a few steps before something red flashed past him. He stopped in his tracks.

"Kazan?" he muttered, watching the crimson dragon run after Saffron. Everyone else exchanged dubious glances.

"Should I go after him?" Flame asked, walking to Zannak's side. But the gold dragon shook his head.

"Nah, let him go. Maybe he can talk sense into her. Or maybe he'll get the stuffing beat out of him. Either way."

Kazan found Saffron in the middle of a small empty court, pacing in circles and spitting electricity at anything she could. He could hear her muttering at her breath as she did so.

"Spyro needs me, Zephira needs me; how am I supposed to choose? Spyro's losing his mind and Zephira…we'll she's already lost more than enough. I can't just desert her! But what if Spyro really is losing control of himself? If I can help stop that… argh, _what do I do_?"

She spat a bolt of electricity at a nearby shrub and it exploded in a flurry of leaves. Kazan stepped forward boldly, and she whirled around, her jaws sparking with voltage. The fire dragon flinched, expecting pain, but Saffron just scowled and let the orb of electricity drop from her jaws to land shimmering on the ground between them. She batted it with a paw, sending it flying into the bushes where it exploded harmlessly and left a scorch mark on the trunk of a tree.

"What, Kazan?" she asked tiredly, sounding less than pleased to see him.

"You seem stressed," he said, cocking his head. Saffron glared at him.

"You think?" she snapped sarcastically and turned her back on him, "I'm being forced to choose between two of my friends – one of whom just lost her brother, and the other who is losing his mind! Why aren't _you_ stressed?"

"Because I already made up my mind," he replied softly, "I know who needs me more. And I think you could probably figure out the same."

Saffron's shoulders drooped, "You're going after Spyro, aren't you? I bet that's what everyone else has decided too. But how can I just desert Zephira? She's my _best_ _friend_! She _needs_ me!"

Kazan eyed her sharply, "Does she?"

Saffron whirled on his suddenly, eyes sparking, "Of course she does! You've seen how she's been the last few days! If I leave her, she'll wither away like…like…"

"Zannak's intelligence?" Kazan offered helpfully. Saffron smirked despite herself.

"Something like that," then she groaned and bowed her head, "Zephira needs me to stay with her. Or she'll shatter…"

"Wasn't it you who always told us never to underestimate her?" Kazan asked sceptically, "That she is stronger than she looks?"

Saffron's head shot up and she stammered, "I-I, well…yes. But, this is different!"

"Is it?"

Saffron snorted and looked away, pouting, her cheeks pink.

"I know it's been hard on Zephira," Kazan continued when she didn't reply, and his voice was a lot gentler than Saffron had ever heard it, "it's been hard on all of us. But, like us, she has the strength to move on. You have to believe in her, like everyone else does. Talk to her if you want before you make your decision, but I think you'll find that she agrees. She isn't helpless, Saffron. Haven't you said so yourself? You've got to have faith in her abilities to recover from this."

The yellow dragoness raised her head and Kazan saw her eyes were swimming with tears. She looked lost and frightened, so unlike her usual, spunky self. "B-But…it doesn't feel right. To leave her so soon after the loss of Ciro… I-I want to help her, but I know Spyro needs my help too. I…I…"

Wordlessly, and in an act of bold courage, Kazan stepped forward and pulled Saffron into an embrace. He placed a paw on her shoulder and pulled her against his chest, resting his head against the back of her neck. He felt her stiffen in shock, but then, to his surprise, she curled a paw around his foreleg and buried her face in the crook of his neck. A pleasant warmth that had nothing to do with fire spread through his entire body.

"I know you're torn," he said gently, "I understand you're confused, and you don't know what's the right choice to make. But you're only one dragon, and you can't do everything, no matter how much you want to. I know you care about Zephira, but right now…I think Spyro needs you more. He needs us all."

"How can I tell Zephira?" she whispered into his scales, which were warm like the sun, "How can I tell her that we're leaving and she can't come with us?"

"Just tell her. She'll understand. I know it. You've gotta believe in her."

"Right," Saffron sat back and Kazan released her, albeit reluctantly. She rubbed her watering eyes with the back of her paw and took a deep breath to compose herself.

"Tell the others I'll meet them back at the courtyard once I've talked to Zephira, alright?" she murmured. Then she raised her head and met his eyes, "And thanks, Kazan."

"Any time."

A pair of fiery gold orbs met her gaze, full of more emotion than Saffron had ever expected. Determination mingled with pride, and an intelligent fire burned deep within those eyes, burning with a kind of fierce understanding.

She felt fire on her cheeks and deep within her belly, a not entirely unpleasant sensation. His warm paws were settled beside her own and, as she stood before him, a comforting feeling spread through her, the likes of which she'd never know. For a moment it was as though everything she was and had ever been was reflected in his golden eyes.

Their faces were but inches apart. The wall that they had built up between them so long ago had all but crumbled to dust. They were standing in a cacoon of warmth, separate from the world.

But it lasted only an instant before Saffron blinked and the spell was broken. Feeling disorientated, her cheeks burning furiously, she quickly stammered a goodbye and turned to hurry away. Kazan stared after her, his gold eyes glazed over, still glowing in the aftermath of a short, sweet moment.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away. The others were still waiting in the courtyard when he returned, and Roku was trying to explain to Domino why he couldn't join them on their quest. Everyone's eyes turned on the fire dragon when he approached.

"What happened?" Zannak asked, "Did you catch her? She clobbered you, didn't she?"

Kazan shook his head, still dazed, "She's gone to see Zephira. She says she'll meet us back here when she's done."

Cynder and Ember exchanged glances. The pink dragoness excused herself and left, heading towards the infirmary. Cynder stared after her.

"I'm sure Zephira will understand," the black dragoness said, "At least I hope so."

But Kazan hardly heard. His thoughts were with another dragoness, and he could almost taste her electricity on his tongue. He couldn't help it; he grinned.

Sunlight streamed down upon the valley of Avalar, gently warming whatever it touched. A lizard lay sunning itself on a rock, soaking up the heat from the sun, unperturbed by the tiny insects crawling around it amongst the grass. A cool breeze swept over its leathery scales. Then a paw slammed down inches away and it shot off into the grass like an arrow, the serenity broken.

"It's beautiful today!" Mari exclaimed, laughter on her face as she ran ahead of the two male cheetahs accompanying her. A woven basket swung from her arm.

"Yes, especially after all that rain," Hunter agreed, gazing at the cloudless sky and shielding his eyes from the sun. Cougar strode beside him, his javelin rested on his broad shoulder.

"A good day for hunting if you ask me," the stocky golden feline added, grinning as he watched his cousin run ahead of them.

Hunter nodded in agreement. Ever since the attack on the dragon city a few days ago, Avalar had been eerily peaceful. But the cheetahs weren't about to let their guard down just yet. Guards patrolled the outskirts of the village day and night. Even so, not hide nor hair of the panthers had been seen for days.

"I can't imagine the panthers would attack on a day like this!" Mari called to them, waving a pale yellow paw, "It's so bright and cheerful – they seem more like the dark, gloomy sort. You know, attacking in the dead of night and so on. That sort of thing."

"I doubt the panthers plan their movements on the weather," Hunter replied, a little sternly, "Don't go letting your guard down just yet. Creatures like that can attack when you least expect it."

"But we'll cut them down if they do," Cougar interrupted boldly, grinning. Mari rolled her eyes at her confident cousin.

"What are we hunting for today? A deer, right?" Cougar asked his companion eagerly.

Hunter shrugged, "Whatever we can find. I could settle with a few rabbits. But if it's deer you want…"

"Oh look!" Mari cried out suddenly, and they watched her run down to the edge of the river, "Watercress!"

The female cheetah was collecting herbs for the village, as their stock had almost been depleted. Always eager to please, Mari wasted no time accepting the job, and today seemed as good a day as ever.

"We'll be further upstream looking for deer," Hunter told her as he and Cougar passed her, "Don't stray too far from the village and call us if you have any problems."

"Yeah, yeah," Mari waved him off, plucking the watercress and adding it to her basket. As the male cheetahs continued on and were lost amongst the trees, the pale yellow cheetah couldn't help muttering to herself.

"Those two," she sighed, exasperated, "Ever since they got back from the dragon city, they've been nothing but doom and gloomy seriousness. Seriously, do they think that this whole place is crawling with panthers or something? _Really_."

Rolling her eyes, Mari jumped up and continued on her way across the meadow, stopping every now and then when she spotted a plant she was looking for. She was just nearing the edge of the forest on the other side on the meadow when she thought she heard something rustle in the bushes. Pausing, she looked up.

The bushes were still, unmoved except by the pleasant breeze that tickled their leaves. Shrugging, Mari assumed it had been a lizard or a rabbit, and bent down to pluck some wild basil growing beside a rock. Suddenly, she heard the bushes rustle again, and glanced sharply towards the sound. The forest was still.

"Hello?" Mari called, standing up slowly and trying to peer into the shadows cast by the trees, "Is someone there?"

No answer.

Shaking her head and telling herself she was being ridiculous, the young cheetah turned her back on the bushes and continued on her way. She had just spotted another herb she had been looking for when she heard the same sound behind her, and the sound of someone stepping out of the trees. She spun around in alarm and her blue eyes fell on pitch black fur.

Mari's scream rent the air. Further upstream, Hunter was levelling an arrow at a grazing deer when he heard the high-pitched sound. Both cheetah and deer reacted at the same time: Hunter fumbled and dropped his arrow, and the deer bolted away into the trees. Cougar dropped out of the tree he'd been perched in, landing nimbly beside his friend.

The cheetahs exchanged glances.

"Mari!" They cried together, and pelted back downstream.

Mari was crouched shaking on the ground, her hands covering her head. She had dropped her basket and it was lying on its side, the herbs she had collected spilling out onto the grass. Trembling with fear, she begged for help under her breath and heard the soft footsteps draw closer.

"Uh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you! A-are you okay? I'm sorry; I wasn't trying to sneak up on you!"

The cheetah raised her head slowly, startled. The voice sounded unsure and anxious, and most definitely female. Raising her gaze, she found herself looking into the nervous face of a pantheress. A pair of anxious deep blue eyes stared back at her, startlingly bright against the velvety black fur of her face.

"Y-y-you…" Mari stammered fearfully, still crouching, "P-Please don't hurt me. I-I'll do what y-you want."

The pantheress looked aghast, "N-no! I'm not here to hurt you! I-I'm sorry I frightened you! Please believe me!"

Mari slowly lowered her arms, which she had been using to shield her face, and stared quizzically at the black feline, "Y-You're not? Then…why are you here?"

The pantheress knelt down quickly, and Mari saw desperation in her eyes, "Please! I need to speak with your chief! I have information he needs to hear!"

Mari was utterly bemused, "You want…to speak with Chief Prowlus? But – but you're a panther! Aren't you supposed to be our enemy?"

"I know!" the pantheress cried out, sounding stressed, "But please believe me when I say I'm here to help! I just want to help!"

"How do I know you're not going to try to hurt the chief?" Mari asked suspiciously, trying to sound brave – but the trembling of her voice showed her fear only too clearly.

The pantheress grabbed her paw suddenly, looking fearful, "Please! You have to trust me! I have to tell him…!"

"Why don't you tell me?" Mari interrupted, wrapping her paws around the panther's. "Tell me what you have to say to the chief!"

The pantheress hesitated, and Mari could feel the nervousness radiating off her. She seemed genuine, and the cheetah had a hard time believing that such a frightened pantheress could be of any threat. Whoever she was, she wasn't an enemy.

"Prowlus doesn't like panthers at all," Mari insisted, squeezing the pantheress's paw, "If he sees you, I'm worried he might attack you without stopping to let you explain! Tell me first and maybe I can vouch for you!"

"O-ok," the pantheress stammered, but she'd hardly opened her mouth to start explaining when a shout cut her off.

"Mari!" Hunter yelled, and the two females jumped and turned to see him running at them. His sword was drawn, and Cougar was hard on his tail with his javelin brandished threateningly. Hunter's steel-like gaze was etched with hatred as he gazed upon the pantheress.

"Wait!" Mari yelled, jumping up and shielding the panther from her two friends. The male cheetahs both skidded to a halt, shocked.

"Mari, what…?"

"Don't hurt her!" she cried, "She's not here to hurt anyone! She just wants to speak with chief Prowlus!"

"Speak with?" Hunter snarled, glaring at the pantheress who was still kneeling on the ground behind Mari, "More like assassinate!"

"Stand aside, Mari," Cougar said grimly, "Let us deal with the panther."

"No!" Mari argued, to their surprise, standing her ground, "I won't let you lay a finger on her until you let her explain! She hasn't done anything wrong!"

Hunter gritted his teeth and lowered his sword reluctantly, "Fine."

He glowered at the cowering pantheress, "Well? Speak!"

The pantheress stood up slowly, edging uneasily to Mari's side. She stared fearfully from Cougar to Hunter, noting their angry gazes and the way their paws shook with fury. Clenching her fists and steeling her nerves, the pantheress raised her head and spoke boldly.

"I'm not here to harm anyone," she said, "I came here of my own accord, without the knowledge of my leaders. If they knew…well, let's just say they wouldn't be pleased. I have valuable information that your chief needs to know. Please let me speak with him."

"Why would a panther willingly betray her tribe and give her enemies valuable information?" Hunter said sceptically, glaring hatred at the black feline, "It's more likely you're a spy sent here to kill our chief."

The pantheress looked stricken, "Believe me! I have no intention of harming anyone in your village or this valley! I came here to help!"

"Why?" Hunter snapped angrily, "Why would you want to help your enemies?"

"Because what my tribe is doing is _wrong_!" the pantheress screeched, and Hunter stepped back in shock at the powerful emotion in her voice. She stared pleadingly into his aqua eyes, her paws trembling. "Believe me, please! What they are planning to do is terrible, and I don't want to be a part of it. I came here hoping that you would be able to stop them. I know it's hard for you to trust me, but I'm telling the truth!"

"Hunter…" Mari pleaded, glancing sideways at the distressed pantheress.

Hunter sighed heavily, and replied in a stern voice, "Whatever you have to say to the chief, you can say to me or not at all."

The pantheress nodded nervously, "I-it's about Skulk and Skelos's plan…"

"Skulk and Skelos?" Cougar echoed. He, like the rest of the cheetah tribe, had yet to actually hear the names of the chief panthers.

"My tribe's leaders," the black feline replied nervously, "Like your chief."

"Leaders? There is more than one?" Hunter asked sceptically. The pantheress nodded quickly.

"Two. Twins."

"And you know when they plan to attack next?" Hunter pressed, eyes flashing with eagerness.

"Two…two weeks. At least." the pantheress stammered, thrown off by his sudden interest. Hunter frowned.

"But they were soundly beaten the last time they tried to attack. The dragons had beaten them back before we even got there. What makes them think they can succeed this time?"

"Because they're gathering reinforcements!" the pantheress cried, "Dreadwings! And…and Death Hounds! I heard them talking!"

"Dreadwings, Death Hounds?" Cougar and Hunter exchanged grim glances, "That sounds a lot like the Dark Master's army."

"But why are you telling us this?" Hunter asked the trembling pantheress, still sounding suspicious, "Why would you betray your own tribe?"

Her shoulders shook as she replied with as much passion as she could, "Because _I_ don't want to see them take over this Valley, not if it means stamping out all the inhabitants who live here! _I_ don't want to see them annihilate the dragon city and all its innocent civilians! My tribe or not, what they are doing is _wrong_. It's evil! And I want to stop them before it's too late."

Mari smiled at the pantheress, suddenly feeling warmed by a rush of admiration for the sleek black feline. She was trembling, terrified and alone in enemy territory, and here she was standing up for her beliefs. Whoever she was, she was strong, brave, and kind. Mari could tell.

Hunter, on the other hand, was very reluctant to trust a panther, no matter how genuine she seemed. He chewed his lip and clenched the hilt of his sword tightly between his fingers, torn between his gut feelings and his common sense. At last he looked the pantheress dead in the eye and spoke.

"Very well. I'll choose to believe you for now," he said. Mari and the pantheress both looked relieved, "_However_, as your motives are still questionable, until your allegiance can be proved, you will remain here in Avalar as our prisoner."

"What?" Mari yelped, "She just gave you some valuable information which she snuck here all the way of her tribe without them knowing, and you want to _imprison_ her? What has she done wrong?"

"You trust far too easily, Mari!" Hunter snapped, whirling on the female cheetah, "Regardless of what she has said, she is still a panther and therefore one of our enemies! If she can prove herself trustworthy, I will consider letting her stay here as one of our tribe, but until then she will be treated as our prisoner!"

"But-!"

"No arguments!" Hunter growled, and Mari shut her mouth timidly. She glared anger at the cheetah captain, but said nothing else in reply.

"Th-thank you," the pantheress stammered, looking relieved despite what Hunter had said, "Thank you for giving me this chance. I will gladly go with you as your prisoner, if that is what you want. But I will do my best to prove myself to you."

Hunter snorted and turned away, "You may try. But I warn you, Chief Prowlus is far less lenient than I. As long as you are our prisoner, I do not believe he will harm you. But do not be prepared for a warm welcome. Cougar."

The stocky feline nodded grimly, hoisted his javelin up on his shoulder, and then grabbed the pantheress by her upper arm. Between him and Hunter, the black feline was marched back to the cheetah village, with Mari trailing behind.

"What's your name?" she asked the pantheress curiously, while shooting glares at both Hunter and Cougar. As far as she was concerned, the treatment they were giving her was no less than criminal.

"Terra," the pantheress murmured back, with a half-hearted smile, "Thank you for standing up for me."

"I'm Mari," the cheetah replied brightly, "I really hope we can be friends."

"Even though I'm a panther?"

"I don't see anything wrong with being a panther," Mari replied defiantly, shooting the two cheetahs a look as though expecting them to get the message. Neither met her gaze.

Terra just smiled sadly, "I hope we can be friends, too."

Ember caught up with Saffron just as she was about to step into the infirmary. The electric dragon paused when she heard her name called and waited for the pink dragoness to catch up. Together they walked through the doors and into the mostly empty corridors.

"I thought I'd come see Zephira with you," Ember said with a sad sort of smile, "And tell her that we'll all be back soon."

Saffron nodded slowly, her head still full of Kazan. '_What was _that_?'_ Her inner voice kept saying.

One moment they had been talking and the next, well, Saffron wasn't really sure how to describe it. But the way he had looked at her, with those fiery eyes, it had made her heart flutter like a trapped butterfly. She'd often come away from an encounter with Kazan feeling flustered, but not like this. Never like this.

It was almost as though…she wanted him to look at her like that again; like he was seeing more than what she was.

Blushing, Saffron shook her head as though to shake the thoughts away. Ember was eying her curiously, and she quickly shot the pink dragoness a smile. Suddenly a door opened to her right, and she almost fell over the mole that stepped out of the room.

"I'm terribly sorry, miss!" the tiny creature squeaked when Saffron managed to regain her balance, "I should have looked where I was going!"

Saffron shook her head, "It's fine."

As the mole made to close the door that he'd come out of, Saffron caught a glimpse of what was inside the room. Startled, she held a paw out to stop the mole closing the door, much to his confusion. But her eyes were settled on the small figure alone in the room, curled up on a large purple cushion that was bigger than she was.

It was a white dragoness, completely colourless, like Mother Seak. She was but a hatchling, but her hide was riddled with crisscrossing, angry pink scars. Saffron gasped softly when she saw the hatchling's eyes were tight shut, and the eyelids covered with scars.

"Who is that?" she murmured to the mole.

"That poor creature was brought in right after the battle," the mole explained softly, "She was caught out on the battlefield and attack by those brutes, poor thing. Her wounds will heal, but I'm afraid we were unable to save her eyesight. Terrible thing those panthers did, really."

"So…she's blind?" Ember asked sadly, peering over Saffron's shoulder at the scarred hatchling.

"I'm afraid so," the mole sighed.

Saffron felt her heart go out to the tiny white dragon. How could anything so young have suffered so much? She thought bitterly of the panthers, and found herself seething with the desire to see them all die beneath her claws. They didn't have the right to take such important things away from such innocent dragons.

What was worse, she wondered. To lose a wing or to lose ones eyes? She found herself unable to come up with an answer.

"Poor thing," Ember whispered.

Saffron sighed and was about to close the door, when she heard a small voice from across the room.

"Wh-who's there?" the hatchling asked, voice trembling nervously. Saffron gulped and exchanged glances with Ember. The pink dragon shrugged and beckoned her into the room.

"We're friends," Saffron said awkwardly, walking over to the white hatchling, unable to tear her eyes away from the poor creature's scarred face, "My name is Saffron. This is Ember."

"Hi," Ember whispered gently, though her eyes were sad.

The hatchling's head swung to and fro, as though she was trying to see her two visitors. Saffron watched her sadly, wishing somehow there was something she could do for a blind dragon. But then the hatchling smiled weakly, her face pointed at a spot somewhere between the two dragonesses.

"I'm Myst," she said shyly, in a shaky sort of voice, "I don't usually get many visitors. What sort of dragons are you?"

"I'm an electric dragon," Saffron explained, feeling odd explaining such an obvious thing. Though, she supposed, it wasn't obvious to a dragon that couldn't see.

"And I'm a fire dragoness," said Ember, and Myst's head swung towards her.

"Ember, right?" she asked timidly, with a small smile, "I should have guessed from the name. I can control wind. At least, I could. I don't know if I still can."

"Why not?" Saffron asked, bemused and anxious for the little dragon.

"Because of…" Myst trailed off, raising a paw to her scarred chest. Saffron was confused, but Ember understood immediately.

"Physical wounds won't stop you using your element," the fire dragoness assured her gently, "Once they heal, you'll be up and about just like before."

"I wish," Myst sighed wistfully, "But my eyes will not heal. That's what the moles say. They call me blind."

Saffron swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking stinging eyes, and tried to think of something to change the subject. She glanced at Ember, who was shifting her paws awkwardly and didn't seem to know what to say.

"Do your friends come see you?" the electric dragoness asked gently, moments later.

But Myst bowed her head, "I don't…I don't really have friends."

Saffron shut her mouth, mentally cursing herself. But then the white hatchling raised her head once more, her tightly-shut eyes trying to seek the electric dragoness out.

"Will you be my friends?" she asked timidly, and Saffron felt a rush of warmth spread through her heart. She smiled.

"Of course we will. Right, Ember?"

The pink dragoness nodded, "Of course!"

Then Saffron remembered that Cynder and the others were likely waiting for them, and cursed herself for wasting time. Spyro could have been gone for hours already, and here she was chatting blissfully to a hatchling.

"Um, Myst, we were about to go see another friend of ours, so…" Saffron trailed off awkwardly, wondering how to word what she needed to say. But Myst's head shot up eagerly.

"A friend? Can I come with you?"

Saffron and Ember exchanged dubious glances, and the yellow dragoness stammered, "Can…can you walk?"

"I think so," Myst pushed herself upright with her forelegs and stepped off the cushion, wobbling a bit as she did so. For a moment Saffron thought she would fall, but then the little dragon's legs steadied and she raised her head in triumph. Ember just smiled.

"Alright, let's go," the pink dragoness announced, and made for the door. Then she seemed to remember that Myst couldn't see, and doubled back looking sheepish.

They led Myst out of the room between them, so that she wouldn't run into anything. The moles kept out of their way in the corridors, which Saffron was glad of. She tried not to feel impatient with the white hatchling, who took quite shaky, slow steps.

"Where is your friend?" Myst asked curiously as they walked.

"In the room just ahead," Saffron explained, "She was hurt in the battle too. I bet she'd like to meet you."

"Is she nice?"

"The nicest dragon I know."

Zephira was sitting upright on her cushions when the three dragons entered her room. She turned her sad gaze away from the window to see who her visitors were. A small smile touched her face when her eyes fell on Saffron. She lifted herself shakily to her feet and padded over.

"I wondered when you would come see me," Zephira murmured softly. The sorrow was still heavy in her voice, but it was mingled with a distinct expression of hope that was always there when Saffron was around. The yellow dragoness smiled at her friend.

"Good to see you up and about, Zeph," she said. She felt Myst trembling beside her, pressed against her flank.

"Who is this?" Zephira asked softly, gazing down upon the small white dragoness. Myst raised her head in response to Zephira's voice, but didn't speak.

"This is Myst," Ember explained, "She wanted to meet you. Myst, this is our friend Zephira. She is also a wind dragoness."

"You too?" Myst asked in a husky voice, "You have a pretty voice."

Saffron saw pink dust Zephira cheeks, and smiled. Perhaps it had been a good idea to let these two meet. Two scarred dragonesses, both missing something important that they had lost only recently. Perhaps together they could overcome their losses and recover.

"Myst is a beautiful name," Zephira murmured, and then added, "for a beautiful dragoness."

Myst smiled, but her smile was sad, "I wish I was beautiful, but I am scarred and have no sight. If there was any beauty, I wouldn't be able to see it."

"You have no sight," Zephira sighed, "and I have no wing to fly. We make a perfect pair."

"You cannot fly?"

"Not anymore, just as you cannot see."

"I would rather fly than see."

Zephira smiled gently, "Then you are a stronger dragoness than me."

In the silenced that followed, Saffron took the chance to explain to Zephira why she had come. The white dragoness listened without interrupting, and Saffron watched her expression anxiously. When she had explained, Zephira merely nodded and smiled understandingly.

"I thought this would happen eventually," she admitted, to Saffron's surprise, "I knew Spyro would not rest until his quest was completed. And I knew you would all go with him. But I also knew that I could never go with you again, now that I can no longer fly."

"Zephira…"

"It's ok, Saff," the wind dragoness insisted, her eyes shining, "Though it does me good to see your face every day, I can survive without you. Right now, Spyro needs you more than I do. Just promise me one thing."

Saffron nodded, her eyes dry, "Anything."

Zephira stared met her gaze with a kind of fierce passion that Saffron had never seen in her eyes before, "Promise me you will return. I will wait for you. So promise me that you will come back to me, Saffron."

"I promise," Saffron whispered, putting every last ounce of her emotion into those two words. Zephira smiled with gratitude.

"We'll be back as soon as we can, Zephira," Ember added, looking anguished at having to leave one of her friends behind, "Don't you worry."

"I won't worry," Zephira smiled, closing her eyes, "because I believe in you. And I know you'll return."

"You're leaving?" Myst asked turning her sightless eyes towards where she assumed Ember was.

"Yes, but we'll be back," the pink dragoness replied, leaning low, "In the mean time, could you do us a favour?"

"What is it?"

"Stay with Zephira, and be her friend."

Myst turned her head towards the older white dragoness, as though she could actually see her. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"I will. I'll be your friend, Zephira."

Zephira smiled, "And I'll be yours."

Minutes later, Saffron and Ember said their goodbyes to the two wind dragons, as hard as it was to walk away. But Zephira just smiled and waved them off, smiling sadly, Myst by her side. Saffron paused just as she was about to leave the room and looked back at her friend, wondering just how long it would be before she would see her again.

"May the ancestors be with you, Zephira," she said with a half-hearted smirk. Then, before her emotions could stop her from leaving, she turned and hurried out of the room. She heard Zephira's whisper follow her down the hall.

"May the ancestors look after you, Saffron."

Closing her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, Saffron ran from the infirmary. Only fate could decide now when she would next lay eyes on the wind dragoness.

_I'll come back. I promise._

"Is everyone ready?" Cynder asked, approximately twenty minutes later, pacing up and down the line of dragons facing her. Fire, electricity and earth. It felt oddly imbalanced without Ciro and Zephira, but the black dragoness pushed that thought from her mind.

They had already informed the guardians of their decision, and Roku had left a tearful Domino with Selador, promising he would come back soon. But nothing he said seemed to cheer his little brother up. He had cried and screamed and argued, but Roku had insisted it was too dangerous for him to come along. Selador had agreed.

"Spyro's likely been gone for hours already," Cynder continued, sounding strained, "We're going to have to fly fast if we want to catch up to him. Is everyone up to it?"

A shout of affirmation reached her ears and she nodded in satisfaction. Flame in particular looked raring to go, his brow furrowed in determination and his wings already unfurled.

"Now let's go find our friend!" the black dragoness called, spreading her wings, and leapt into the sky. Her six friends leapt after her, following her into the late morning air.

Unaware of when they would next lay eyes on Warfang, the seven dragons turned sharply and began their journey – on towards the ocean and the Ancient Grove beyond. From the window in the infirmary, Zephira watched them fly away until they were merely black dots in the sky.

"May the ancestors watch over all of you," she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?"

Spyro shot the dragonfly an amused look, "It was your idea, Sparx."

"What do you mean _my_ idea?" the dragonfly complained, "That doesn't sound like me at all."

The dark waters of the sea stretched out below the pair as they soared through twilight skies. It was mostly dark, and the celestial moons were dwarfing the stars that peered like tiny eyes from the cloudless night sky. Dragon and dragonfly had been flying for hours, and both were feeling the strain on their wings.

"Can't we take a break?" Sparx whined, flying close to Spyro's head and lighting the way with a bright yellow glow.

"We'll be at the Dragon Temple soon," Spyro replied, with a beat of his tired wings, "then we can rest."

Sparx groaned again, "I thought we'd have been there by now!"

"We would have if you hadn't stopped to eat all those butterflies."

"Hey, a dragonfly's gotta eat too, y'know. What'd you expect me to do; _starve_? Look at me, I'm already wasting away!"

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Says the fat guy."

Spyro rolled his eyes and beat his wings, rising slightly into a cool air current. His eyelids kept drooping over his tired eyes, but with nowhere to land he couldn't afford to fall asleep. An endless expanse of water spread out far below, undulating with soundless, gentle waves. The stars winked mockingly at the tired dragon.

The purple dragon found his thoughts returning to those he had left behind in Warfang. He wondered how Cynder had reacted when she had found his note, and resolved to apologise to her when he returned. That is, if she didn't follow him first. He hoped she wouldn't.

"Hey Spyro, you see that?" Sparx asked suddenly, breaking the dragon from his thoughts.

"What?" Spyro asked lazily, blinking his tired eyes at the darkening horizon.

"Those…things," Sparx pointed with a tiny glowing finger to a spot just ahead and slightly to the left. Spyro peered closely and saw what appeared to be large shadows in the sky, drifting slowly towards them.

"What are they?" he wondered aloud, narrowing his eyes.

"Knowing our luck, something that wants to eat us," Sparx muttered unenthusiastically, "Hey, here's an idea! Why don't we try to _avoid_ them?"

But Spyro ignored him, his attention too focused on the figures that were slowly drawing nearer. The closer they approached, the more he could make out their bird-like shapes. Large bat-like wings spread from their slim, feathered bodies. Spyro's eyes widened when he beheld their cruel, curved beaks, and evil slitted eyes. Curved talons glinted in the moonlight.

"Scurvywings!" he cried, and banked to the right as the bird-like creatures dove screeching towards him. Sparx fled screaming after him.

"I told you they wanted to eat us!"

It had been over four years since Spyro had last laid eyes on a Scurvywing. As such, it seemed he had forgotten about their speed and agility. As he dove sharply to escape their grasping claws, he cried out in pain as a pair of talons raked across his flank and sent him tumbling head over tail. The screech of a Scurvywing met his ears.

Snapping his wings out, Spyro managed to regain his balance, and swerved sharply when the feathered creature returned for a second try. The claw on the elbow of its wing sped by Spyro's face so close he heard the whistle of the wind as it cut through nothing. Snarling, the purple dragon whirled around to face his attacker, fire spewing from his jaws.

The Scurvywing shrieked and fell backwards, several of its feathers smoking. Spyro watched it drop out of the sky as it clawed at its burning feathers. It recovered inches before it struck the water, but Spyro had already turned his attention to the others. He counted five more soaring in the air, slowly surrounding him and the trembling Sparx.

"We're _doomed_!" the dragonfly moaned, covering his eyes. But Spyro gnashed his teeth and charged at the converging Scurvywings, electricity sparking between his fangs.

They shrieked and clawed at his scales, but he ignored their flailing talons and let loose a storm of voltage that sent one of them spiralling limply to the dark waters below. Just as he was turning around to engage another in battle, Spyro felt a burning pain in the small of his back, just below his wings. His howl of pain cut the air, and he dropped several feet towards the sea.

"Spyro!" Sparx yelled, diving towards him, "Hold on, buddy!"

But Spyro recovered quickly, ignoring the stinging pain in his back, and looked around wildly for the culprit. The Scurvywing he'd set on fire moments before had recovered, though several of its feathers were charred black, and it opened its cruel beak to fire another clump of crimson red energy.

Spyro wasn't sure what exactly this energy was, but he had faced it before, both with Dreadwings and Scurvywings. He considered it similar to his own fire bombs, though mingled, it seemed, with the energy of Fear – one of Cynder's stranger elements.

As the red energy clump shot done towards him, Spyro spun wildly in the air and struck it with his cone-shaped tailblade. It burned for an instant, but the force of his strike sent the attack straight back at the Scurvywing. The bird-like creature screamed as its own attack exploded on its chest, and fell broken to the waves below.

Snorting smoke and looking furious, Spyro whirled on the remaining four creatures. They circled above him and dived together, beaks outstretched towards the hovering purple dragon. Sparx screamed and fled out of the way, but Spyro, who had not being expecting such a bold attack, didn't move in time.

The four Scurvywings struck the purple dragon with all the force of a battering ram, and he screamed as one of their beaks cut deep into his shoulder. Like a falling meteor, the Scurvywings and Spyro plummeted from the sky and disappeared below the waves with an almighty splash.

"Spyro!" Sparx screamed in terror as he watched his brother disappear into the dark waters of the sea, "Spyro! Spyro! No, no, no!"

As the splash dissipated and the waters settled slowly, Sparx hovered down to the heaving surface, trying to see below the waves. But he saw nothing, only dark water and the reflection of countless stars in the sky. The ripples slowly faded until nothing was left to indicate that Spyro and the Scurvywings had even been there.

Sparx's shoulders trembled as he zipped to and fro over the water, chanting to himself "No, no, no. Come on, Spyro, where are you?"

Despair was just creeping in on the dragonfly, when the waters beside him suddenly erupted like an exploding volcano. Sparx screamed and dodged out of the way of flying droplets of water, staring wide eyed at the shadowy thing that burst straight up out of the waves.

Spyro snapped open murky red wings as he rocketed into the sky, water streaming down shadowy black scales. The Scurvywings, shaking salty water from their water-proof feathers, flew shrieking away from him, only to converge again and return. But this time, Spyro was reading.

With an unearthly howl of rage, the dark dragon collided with the charging Scurvywings, ripping through their wings with his lethal claws. Two fell screeching, their wings severed, and disappeared below the waves.

Spyro fastened his jaws around the throat of another, biting deep through feathers and flesh, and tasting blood. With a violent jerk of his head he sent it crashing into the water below, spraying the night sky with droplets of water and blood. The last turned to flee, cawing in fear, but Spyro bared blood-stained teeth and chased it down.

He dug his cruel talons into the screeching creature's back, spraying its own blood across its feathers. It struggled and shrieked, but could do nothing to save itself as the shadowy purple dragon tore it mercilessly apart. The bloodied creature fell below the waves, sinking to its eternal slumber on the ocean floor.

Sparx watched the whole thing with horror painted across his face. He had never seen Spyro attack anything so ruthlessly, with such mercilessness. It was like he was not watching his brother at all, but some other, cruel, horrible dragon. Only when the last Scurvywing fell dead with a splash, did Spyro turn his eyes on his dragonfly brother.

Sparx trembled; his whole body seized up with fear. A pair of glowing white eyes stared from Spyro's shadowed face, gleaming with murderous intent. His fangs shimmered with the blood of his enemies, bared in a horrible grimace. And his soulless eyes were glaring straight at Sparx.

"Oh…crap…"

**A/N: Some of you may recognise the new character that appeared in this chapter. And you will probably know that she doesn't belong to me. Myst is the property of my lovely beta GoldenGriffiness. If you want to read more of Myst, I suggest you check out Goldy's Legend of Cynder, which is a very enjoyable read. **

**Also, to those who are interested, yes I did manage to reach 50 000 words. Two days ago, in fact. But the story isn't finished and probably won't be finished, considering I didn't really have a solid ending for it and I got bored of the idea after a while. That, and I have a different idea for an original story that I like much better. But hey, it was fun to write, even though it probably really sucks considering how quickly I wrote it. xD**

******Anyway, thanks a super duper bunch to all my reviewers as usual. I was a little stressed out when I posted the last chapter, so I didn't reply to many reviews, but that doesn't mean I appreciated them any less than usual. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter, even just a little. :)**

**Thanks for reading, everyone!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Well, I'm finally back. It's only been a month, yet it feels like longer... Are we still alive and kicking? Everyone still interested? This story seems to be dragging on forever. Man. Have a short chapter (does 8000 words count as short? Oh look, FF bumped it up to 9000 words. Vegeta would be proud. Sorry...I'll shut up now).  
**

**17.**

The terrified scream of a dragonfly rent the air as Sparx turned tail and fled through the dark sky. The dark dragon that had once been Spyro shot after him, blood-stained teeth bared in anger, straining to reach the tiny glowing insect. Panicked, Sparx started zigzagging in the air, knowing he was no match for the speed of the dragon. Spyro's jaws snapped shut on air as Sparx zipped out of the way just in time.

"Man, stop!" Sparx yelled over his shoulder, panic lacing his voice, "It's me! It's Sparx, your old buddy!"

But the dark dragon that had once been his closest friend and brother paid his words no heed.

Heart pumping, the dragonfly strained his wings as fast as he could. He didn't care what direction he was flying in, only that he got away from the shadowy dragon. As it was, he was unknowingly flying back in the direction of Warfang. But land was just a tiny dark smudge on the horizon, and below him stretched only water and the occasional tiny, rocky island.

Spyro snarled in frustration and beat his dark wings, sending tendrils of shadowy mist curling through the air. Sparx looked back and yelped when he saw he was but a whisker away from the snapping jaws of death. Screaming, he shot upwards, just as a dark projectile shot out of the darkness and collided with Spyro.

The air was suddenly filled with high-pitched shrieks and guttural roars, and Sparx turned in alarm to see two black dragons grappling in the air. Spyro snapped and clawed at his attacker, but she kicked him hard in the chest and threw him back. The moonlight flashed across her face and Sparx recognised her immediately.

"Cynder!" he yelled, thinking he had never been gladder to see her in his life. At the sound of beating wings, Sparx spun around to see a small group of dragons flying fast towards him, Flame at their head.

Suddenly there was a scream and Sparx turned to see Cynder plummet to the waves below, Spyro tangled with her. They hit the water with a splash like an explosion that rose several meters into the air.

"Cynder!" Ember screeched in alarm, and dove down before anyone else could.

"Ember, stop!" Flame yelled after her, but she had already hit the waves and disappeared into the dark water. Alarmed, the red dragon hovered down after her.

Everyone else exchanged worried glances and hovered slowly closer to the surface of the dark sea. Suddenly something broke the waves several meters away. Water streamed down Cynder and Ember's scales as they supported a limp, purple dragon between them. Sparx gave a strangled gasp and fluttered over to them.

"Spyro! Is he ok?" he asked urgently, but Cynder just grunted and started paddling.

Waterlogged, it was impossible for the two dragonesses to take flight, especially with the limp Spyro supported between them. So, with Sparx and Flame to guide them, they paddled to a nearby island. It was little more than a large rock sticking out of the waves, but it was big enough.

When they at last reached the island, Ember helped Cynder drag the limp purple dragon up onto the rock. They lay for several moments coughing, spluttering and trying to catch their breath. Water streamed down their scales in rivulets. Flame alighted anxiously beside them, nuzzling Ember reassuringly.

"Is everyone ok?" asked Roku, as he and the others landed on the rock around the three soaked dragons.

Cynder coughed water and raised her head, "I'm fine."

Her gaze shifted to Sparx, who was hovering anxiously over the purple dragon. Spyro's eyes were closed and there was blood on his snout that mingled with the salty water streaming down his scales. He looked like a limp sack of scales laying there on the rock, unmoving, his wings splayed out beside him. Sparx kept shaking his horn, but the purple dragon's head only rolled limply.

"Come on, Spyro," the dragonfly begged, "Open your eyes! Spyro!"

Still coughing water, Cynder pushed herself upright and crawled to the purple dragon's side. She gently nuzzled his wet cheek, and shivered at how cold he felt. Spyro made no response. Trembling, Cynder pressed the tip of her snout against his neck, until she felt a faint pulse beating against her scales. She sighed with relief and rested her head on his drenched shoulder.

"He's alive," she murmured, "Thank goodness."

"Seems like we got here just in time," Saffron said grimly, staring down at the motionless purple dragon. Only moments ago those same scales had been swathed in shadows.

"Any later and he would have eaten Sparx," Kazan agreed, which for some reason Zannak seemed to find amusing.

"Yeah, good thing we stopped him," he joked, baring pearly white fangs, "because he sure wouldn't have tasted very nice!"

Everyone glared at the gold dragon, and he grinned sheepishly, "What?"

"I thought cracking bad jokes was my job," Sparx scowled, glaring at Zannak. But anyone could see that the dragonfly was badly shaken. He wasn't glowing as brightly as he usually did, and the beating of his tiny wings was broken and irregular. Cynder could see his tiny hands trembling.

"I guess you were right about him," Ember sighed, staring sadly at the unconscious Spyro, "He really is losing control."

Flame grunted and turned his head to stare at the moons, "Right. Attacking Chasm is one thing, but _Sparx_? The Spyro I know would rather sacrifice himself than hurt his brother, no matter how annoying he can be."

"Who are you calling annoying?" Sparx argued half-heartedly, but even the usual bravado had faded from his voice. Never in all his life had Sparx ever expected to be attacked by his own brother. Sure, that moment at the Well of Souls had been scary, but the real Spyro had been there at that time, fighting it. This time, Spyro had attacked him ruthlessly, without even stopping to think. The memory of seeing Spyro's snapping, blood-stained jaws right behind him made Sparx shudder with fear.

"It's not his fault," Cynder sighed, caressing Spyro's limp paws with her own, "He can't control it. That's why we're here; to _help_ him control it."

"Cynder?" the black dragoness quickly glanced towards Sparx, who had spoken. The dragonfly wasn't looking at her; rather, he was averting his eyes in an embarrassed sort of manner.

"Thanks," he mumbled, rubbing his arm sheepishly, "For saving me, I mean. I owe you one."

Cynder allowed herself a wry smirk, "I'm sure you owe me more than one, but I'll let this one slide. Spyro wouldn't be very happy with me if I let him eat you."

At that moment, a low groan came from the purple dragon, and everyone looked sharply at him. He coughed feebly, spraying sea water across the stone, and blinked open dazed lilac eyes. Raising his head, he was forced to cough several more times to expel the water from his lungs, before he took a much needed breath of fresh air. Then, blinking in a confused sort of way, he looked around at the dragons that surrounded him.

"Finally awake, I see," Cynder said, eying him carefully, "How are you feeling?"

Spyro licked his lips, confused by the taste of blood on his fangs, "Cyn…Cynder? Why are you here?"

He looked around, "Why are you all here?"

"We came after you, Spyro."

The purple dragon turned accusing eyes on Cynder, "You read my note, didn't you? I told you not to follow me. Why?"

The black dragoness narrowed her emerald eyes, "Because you need us, Spyro, whether you realise it or not. It was a foolish thing you did, going off on your own. Do you even realise what you almost did?"

But Spyro seemed confused and slightly taken aback, "Did? All I remember is being attacked by some Scurvywings and then…nothing."

"Nothing at all?" Cynder pressed, peering into his confused eyes.

Spyro frowned, trying to remember. He remembered falling below the waves, panicking in the cloudy water, unable to breath. But after that everything was a blur. When he strained his memory hard enough, he thought he could remember a feeling of intense rage, and Sparx's face staring at him with utter terror. But that was all.

"Nothing."

"You tried to eat me, dude!" Sparx piped up indignantly, flying into Spyro's face. Spyro stared.

"I…what?"

Cynder shook her head, "It doesn't matter. The point is that you've been losing control a lot more frequently lately. I thought you understood how dangerous this is. I know it's not your fault this is happening, Spyro, but while you're in this state, you're a danger to everyone around you – including yourself! Leaving Warfang without us was a very dangerous thing to do!"

"I-I'm sorry…" Spyro mumbled, lowering his head. Hot tears stung his eyes. "I-I really thought I could control it."

He gritted his teeth, rubbing furiously at his watering eyes with the back of a paw, "Why? Why am I so weak?"

Cynder's shoulders fell and she gazed sadly at him, "It's not your fault, Spyro. It's ok. We're all here to help you get through this, and I'm sure the Chronicler can help too. Don't worry. No one blames you for this."

'_I do,'_ Spyro thought bitterly, but he didn't say it aloud. Blinking away his tears, he looked around at all those who had followed him from Warfang. His feeling of gratitude felt punctured by the underlying sensation of guilt. They had come all the way out here just for him, despite everything that had happened, and he had nothing to repay them with.

"What about Zephira?" he asked anxiously, noting the absence of the white dragoness.

"She couldn't come," Saffron murmured softly, staring at her paws, "She can't fly anymore, remember?"

Spyro could have slapped himself for forgetting such a fact. Zephira had been left behind – he had dragged all her friends away from her, just for his own selfish needs. Feeling worse than ever, the purple dragon averted his eyes from the gazes of his friends.

"Y-you didn't have to come after me," he stammered, "You didn't have to leave Zephira just to help me. I-I don't deserve that. I-I didn't ask any of you to come with me, because I knew you had other things to take care of back at Warfang… I didn't want to drag you away so soon after…after…"

"Ciro's death wasn't your fault," Kazan said sharply, "So you can stop blaming yourself for that. As for Zephira…"

"She understands," Saffron cut in, glancing sideways at Kazan, "She even said to me that you need us more than she does. She doesn't blame you any more than we do, Spyro."

"The only one blaming you is yourself," Roku added gravely, and Spyro's eyes rose to meet his.

"So you came too," the purple dragon mumbled, "What about your brother?"

"I left him with Master Selador," Roku explained, closing his eyes briefly, "He will understand eventually why I could not take him with me."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Spyro gazed at Ember, who smiled gently, and at Flame, who grinned roguishly. Zannak winked cheerily at him, Sparx shrugged and smiled weakly, and then Spyro met Cynder's emerald eyes. They were soft and understanding, as he had hoped they would be. Gently, she nuzzled his cheek and whispered in his ear.

"We're all here for you, Spyro. We're your friends, and we always will be."

At last Spyro smiled – a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless – as the strength of his friends drove the guilt from his heart. At last he was filled completely with the warmth of gratitude.

Several hours earlier, at approximately mid-afternoon, the harsh sun beat down on a group of panthers as they strode across the sandy shore. It had been an almost two-day trek from the plains between Warfang and the Badlands to the stretch of beach on the south coast of the mainland. Far across the gently heaving sea, the Island of Swamps – as Sablefur had once named it – was but a tiny smudge on the horizon.

Skulk shielded his eyes against the sun as he stared out to sea, a salty breeze ruffling his short, ragged tunic. Around him, a squadron of about one hundred panthers milled about in the sand, awaiting orders. The hot sun was uncomfortable, but for the panthers that had lived their entire lives in the unforgiving badlands it was hardly unbearable.

"I take it that's the island," Skulk said, turning his attention to the nervous panther beside him. Burdock, still panting from the exhausting trek to the beach, clutched his satchel of scrolls and nodded quickly.

Skulk grunted and turned his gaze up the beach, "Now all we need is a way of getting there. Come."

Suppressing a groan of tiredness, the chubby panther plodded after his leader as he headed up the beach. The rest of the panthers trailed after them at their own pace, some stopping every now and then to admire the expanse of water stretching far into the horizon. It wasn't every day a panther saw the ocean.

Burdock, however, didn't seem the slightest bit interested in the sea. He was wishing he was back home in the panther village, where he had hoped to spend the next few days sleeping. But Skulk and Skelos seemed to have had other ideas. Burdock grimaced at the memory.

After arguing about which group Burdock would go with – after all, he had the maps and he was a master navigator – Skelos had then proceeded to rob him of two of his maps. Burdock had wanted to argue; after all, those maps had been with his family for generations, but he knew that Skelos would need them if he was to find his way to Concurrent Skies.

Burdock wished he could have gone with Skelos. They were planning on stopping by the panther village, after all, and with any luck, he could have been allowed to stay behind. But instead Skulk had claimed need of him, to navigate across the sea to the Island of Swamps. And so, instead of returning home for a much needed rest, Burdock had found himself travelling in the complete opposite direction.

And it was no secret that Skulk didn't like him.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Burdock didn't notice Skulk had stopped until he almost ran into him. Staggering backwards to avoid colliding with his leader – which he knew would not be a wise idea – he didn't notice what the slim panther was looking at.

"I would never have believed it; but you were right, Burdock," Skulk said grudgingly, his arms folded against his chest, "It's all here, just as you said."

Confused, Burdock opened his mouth, but then he caught sight of what lay beyond them and the question died on his lips. The beach beyond which they stood could only be described as a graveyard. Beached ships, some half buried and rotting, others resting high up on the sand; scraps of wooden planks, drifting lazily in the tide or littering the sand; coils of rope and wire; shredded sails torn almost into strips; all of it stretching along the beach as far as the eye could see.

"This…this is…" Burdock stammered, mouth flapping, lost for words.

"It's almost as if those filthy apes knew we'd eventually need this," Skulk said, ignoring his stammering cohort, "Everything we need, right here."

"It's like a graveyard," Burdock said weakly, gazing at a rotten plank half-buried in the sand near his paw.

Skulk laughed coldly, but said nothing in reply. Instead he left Burdock standing at the edge of cemetery of ships, and strode amongst what was left of the once proud vessels. The plump panther merely stood and watched as the rest of the panthers followed their leader through the wreckage, their eyes wide with wonder. But to Burdock the graveyard of broken ships seemed sad and desolate, void of all life but somehow haunted with the echo of what once had been. It gave him the shivers.

Skulk perused the wreckage until he found what he considered to be a likely candidate. The ship was large and flat, and would have carried at least thirty apes with ease. There were slots in the sides where oars would sit, but most of the oars were long gone. A ragged sail fluttered desolately in the salty breeze. The wood was damp and damaged in several places, including a large hole near the stern. The broken shards of wood were blackened around the edges of this hole, as though it had been blasted by fire.

"We can fix that easily enough," Skulk mused to himself, leaning down and placing a paw to the damp wood around the charred wound. It was gritty with sand under his paw. "All we need is a few extra oars… Steel!"

The assassin, who had been conversing with Nyx not too far from Skulk, looked up when he heard his name called. His steel-grey eyes settled on his leader and he strode over, Nyx at his heels.

"You called, Master Skulk?"

"This ship will serve us well," Skulk replied swiftly, "However, there are a few damages that need to be patched up, and we'll require a few more oars. Gather a crew and see if you can make this vessel sea-worthy."

Steel bowed dutifully, "As you wish, Master."

"Nyx, come with me," Skulk said to the pantheress, who had been eagerly awaiting orders of her own. She flashed a smile at Steel as she passed, but it was as full of cold malice as all her expressions were. He merely nodded impassively in reply.

It only took Skulk and Nyx another ten minutes to find another ship, similar to the first, that the former believed could be made sea-worthy. Leaving Nyx to gather her own crew and patch up the old, sand-logged vessel, Skulk went off in search of Erebos.

The six assassins had been split up between the two leaders, three with each group. While the majority of the panthers had gone with Skelos, it had only seemed fair, and wise, that the assassins should be split evenly. Agra, Silt and Orpheus had left with Skelos, and the other three had accompanied Skulk instead.

Skulk found Erebos sifting through an array of water-logged ropes that he had discovered down near the high-tide mark. They were thick, long and heavy, and looked strong enough to hold back a rampaging boar. Erebos currently seemed to be trying to make one into a lasso, but the heavy salt-encrusted rope was proving difficult.

"Do you enjoy making a fool of yourself?" Skulk asked coldly, after a minute of observing the tall, purple-eyed panther.

Erebos jumped in surprise, dropping the rope he'd been trying to experiment with. His sheepish grin quickly turned into a scowl of seriousness when he saw it was Skulk who had addressed him. Taller or not, Erebos was as intimidated by the cold panther leader as the rest of the clan.

"What are your orders, Master Skulk?" he asked stiffly, as though nothing had happened. But Skulk seemed distracted.

"What did you find?" he asked the assassin curiously, eyes straying to the heavy coils of rope in the sand. Erebos couldn't suppress a grin at his leader's apparent interest.

"Thought they'd be useful for capturing those hounds," he said, hoisting a coil into his paws, "They're heavy, but strong and sturdy. I don't think they're likely to break any time soon. What do y'think?"

Skulk considered it for a moment, then shrugged, "It could indeed be useful. Find someone to gather them. Then you're going to help me look for a ship."

Erebos grinned, "Sweet."

By twilight, the panthers had found four suitable ships that could carry them across the sea and back again with a cargo of captured Death Hounds. Skulk had placed each of his assassins in charge of one ship, taking charge of the last himself, with Burdock as his navigator. The chubby panther had thought better than to argue.

By some bizarre stroke of luck, the panthers had discovered something more than just the ships washed up on the beach. Several old metal cages, most covered in rust, had been found half-buried in the sand. They were large and sturdy, and big enough to hold, Skulk assumed, a Death Hound or two. He supposed the apes had used them for the same purpose years ago. It seemed almost too fortunate to be true.

It was already dark by the time they had patched up the holes in their vessels and scrounged up enough oars. So it was that Skulk ordered them to rest for the night, knowing that navigating in the dark would be nigh on impossible. He resolved to head for the island first thing in the morning, much to Burdock's chagrin.

As the panthers bedded down in the sand for the night, not far to the east a purple dragon and his glowing dragonfly companion began the journey over the dark sea.

About half a day before Skulk and his panthers reached the southern shore, Skelos and the rest of the warriors were heading through a tall canyon on their way back to the Badlands. The panthers didn't usually peruse this canyon, and for good reason, but it was the fastest route back to the Badlands and Skelos had insisted on it. Burdock had tried to talk him out of it, but had failed miserably.

At dawn about a day and a half ago, Skelos had asked the chubby panther what the fastest way back to the Badlands was. Predictably, he had skirted around the question.

"The safest way back is the same way we left from, through the desert plains," he had said, tracing the route on the map, which skirted wide around a large rocky canyon.

"I'm not asking for the safest route, Burdock, I'm asking for the quickest," Skelos had replied sternly. This had flustered the plump panther.

"W-well, the quickest way would be through Dry Canyon, but…"

"Then that's the way we'll go," Skelos had said with conviction, snatching the map and rolling it up.

"W-wait!" Burdock had argued, "You don't understand! Dry Canyon and the High Caves are infested with Ore Spiders! They're very dangerous!"

"No bugs are going to stop me and my warriors from returning home," Skelos had said coldly. And he had meant it too.

Now that they were walking through Dry Canyon, Skelos's resolve only seemed to have hardened. The same could not be said for several of his warriors, many of whom had had dealings with the Ore Spiders in the past and weren't keen to repeat the experience. Skelos couldn't help but notice that Orpheus kept very close to him as they navigated through the canyon.

"I suppose those are the High Caves Burdock mentioned," Skelos pointed out about a third of the way through the canyon, rolling up the map he'd been studying. A series of dark caves in the rock, high up near the top of the canyon walls, glared down on the band of panthers like angry eyes.

Orpheus eyed them uneasily, gripping the shaft of his sword-staff tightly. Silt had returned it to him only recently, fixed and good as new. "You don't think the spiders will attack us, right?"

Skelos shrugged, "Even if they do, I doubt they can do much against four hundred skilled panther warriors. We've got nothing to worry about."

But Orpheus couldn't help but think otherwise. He'd heard tales of the Ore Spiders, though he hadn't actually encountered or seen any himself; they didn't sound like friendly creatures. And currently they were walking blatantly through their territory. Orpheus couldn't deny the thought made him feel very vulnerable.

"We'll be home just after midday at this rate," Skelos pointed out, appearing completely at ease, his spear slung across his shoulders.

Orpheus grimaced. That meant at least two more hours in the canyon. As far as he was concerned, every minute that went past the more danger the panthers were in. But he kept his mouth shut and his worries to himself, wisely keeping from annoying Skelos. He was only young, but even he knew to tread carefully around the blue-eyed twins.

For the next hour, Orpheus kept his eyes on the High Caves, trying to keep his thoughts optimistic and hoping he was imagining the metallic scuttling sounds he kept hearing. The rest of the panthers seemed just as uneasy; they were eerily quiet as they plodded through the canyon, and kept rather closer together than they usually would have done. Even Silt and Agra seemed stiff and edgy. Only Skelos seemed completely at ease.

But with every minute that passed, the unnerving sensation of being watched continued to grow within Orpheus. Surely he wasn't imagining the scuttling of spindly legs on rock, or the metallic clicking of pincers. The urge to run crept up on him and grew stronger by the second. Silt had drawn his sword and kept shooting suspicious glances at the caves.

At last even Skelos couldn't ignore the sounds that were surrounding them, and the sensation of many eyes fixed upon him and his warriors. He stopped in the middle of the canyon, rolling his spear between his paws.

"They're watching us, aren't they?" he asked, sounding almost bored. Orpheus stared incredulously, but never got the chance to answer. Because, at that moment, he got his first glimpse of an Ore Spider.

They were aptly named, with bodies plated with silvery metallic ore that glimmered with a cold sheen in the harsh sunlight. The first appeared on a small ledge overhanging the path through the canyon, just ahead of where Skelos was standing. It stood above them, peering down with eight, blood-red eyes, its metallic-blue pincers moving almost thoughtfully. It was about as big as a Dreadwing, with long spindly legs and a low-slung body. For a moment it seemed just to consider the panthers.

Then, with an ominous clicking sound, it began to move. Agilely it crawled down the steep rock face, long gangly legs sweeping swiftly over the rough stone. In the blink of an eye it was on level ground and scuttled towards Skelos with all the speed of an arrow in flight.

"Get back!" Skelos yelled, levelling his spear at the charging spider. The panthers behind him backed up quickly, but the spider didn't stop. Horribly it rose up on six legs, raising its two foremost legs as it prepared to strike. With a yell, Skelos ran to meet it.

There was a horrible metallic shrieking sound as the panther stabbed his spear violently into the Ore Spider's cluster of sharp red eyes and danced backwards. The hooked feet of its foremost legs grazed his shoulders, but its pincers didn't touch him, and it recoiled jerkily, clawing at its wounded face. Snarling, Skelos raised his spear to finish it off, but it quickly scuttled out of his reach, pincers clicking angrily.

"Master Skelos!" Orpheus yelled suddenly, panic in his voice. Skelos spun around in alarm.

Clambering over ledges and down the canyon walls, spilling from the High Caves like bats, an army of Ore Spiders were charging towards the startled panthers. There were too many to count, their metallic bodies shining wickedly in the sun and the sound of their hundreds of scuttling legs filling the canyon. Hundreds of blood-red eyes glared at the panthers from all sides.

"Shit," Skelos swore, brandishing his spear protectively and backing up towards his warriors, his eyes on the converging spiders. "We're in trouble."

"What do we do?" Orpheus yelped, trying hard to keep the fear from his voice but failing miserably.

For a moment Skelos didn't answer. But then he turned around and, with a rogue glint in his eye, yelled, "We fight!"

Sweeping his cloak aside, the panther leader grabbed his dagger from its sheath and, with a weapon in each paw, charged to meet the spiders. His excited yell bounced around the canyon as he leapt high, dagger flashing in the sun, spear poised for the strike, and dropped hard onto the back of the nearest arachnid. His spear struck metal ore and rebounded with a clang, tearing itself from Skelos's paw, but his dagger sank deep into the blinking eyes of the beast.

Shrieking like a demon, the spider scurried in circles, legs scrambling to grab a hold of the panther. But Skelos leapt backwards, wrenching his dagger free, and snatched up his spear up from the ground, all in one swift movement. Dancing on the balls of his feet, he grinned maddeningly at the wounded spider as it clicked and hissed in pain.

As the Ore Spider rose up on three pairs of legs, Skelos saw the chance he had been waiting for. Triumphantly, he uttered a war cry and charged the spider, spear pointed straight for its exposed underbelly. There was a horrible crunching sound as the deadly spear point sank into the belly of the spider, and it fell backwards with a grating screech. Its metallic outer shell clanged loudly as it fell onto stone, and its spindly legs curled in on itself as it slowly died.

Skelos backed up from the dying spider, wiping dust from his upper lip, his spear tip now slick with the sticky black resin that was spider blood. As the arachnid slowly ceased its death throws, Skelos noticed that the rest of the spiders had paused as though they had been watching the battle with interest. He could hear their pincers clicking slowly – thoughtfully.

"Who's next?" Skelos yelled challengingly to the watching spiders, "Who else wants to die?"

The clicking sounds increased rapidly, until it filled the entire canyon like an eerie song. Then, as though Skelos's words had been an order, the spiders charged all at once. But the panthers didn't wait helplessly for them to strike – emboldened by their leader's confidence, they drew their weapons and charged outwards, yelling war cries.

Panther and spider met with a clash, and the sound of metal on metal ripped through the canyon. The instant he raced into battle, Orpheus felt his previous fears leave his body. Suddenly he felt liberated, excited and confident, the thrill of the fight running through his veins.

"Come on!" he roared challengingly, slamming his sword-staff into the face of an Ore Spider and sending in reeling backwards. Another reared up behind him, pincers clacking dangerously, but he spun a half-circle and slashed it across its vulnerable underbelly.

Another charged up on his blind spot, and he only just managed to role out of the way to avoid its cruel pincers. As it scuttled around for a second try, Orpheus rolled onto his feet and stabbed down hard. But the blade of his sword-staff bounced straight off the metallic coating of the spider's body, and Orpheus was thrown backwards by the rebound.

Scrambling back to his feet, the young panther half expected to feel the sting of the spider's pincers at any moment. But then another panther took a flying leap and landed on the back of Orpheus's assailant, slipping on its metallic shell. The spider clicked angrily and scuttled in circles, trying to throw the cat off, but he held on grimly like a parasite.

"Silt!" Orpheus yelled to the panther, and received a wild grin in return.

"Go for the eyes or the belly!" Silt yelled to the young panther, his paws slipping on the smooth surface of the spider's back, "Their metal shells won't be pierced by weapons or claws!"

"On it!" Orpheus replied quickly, hefting his sword-staff and running at the aggravated spider. For a moment it seemed to forget about Silt and turned its attention on the younger panther, only to shriek in agony as Orpheus's blade slashed across its eight eyes.

Blinded, the arachnid scuttled backwards and Silt leapt nimbly from its back. A hefty kick in the side was all he needed to roll the disorientated spider onto its back. He killed it with a swift stab to the underbelly, and grimaced as its sticky tar-like blood coated the blade of his sword.

"Gross," Silt muttered, wiping it on the underbelly of the dead spider. Orpheus grinned.

But their victory was short lived when two more Ore Spiders approached to take the place of the one they had slaughtered. The two assassins retreated until they were back to back, their faces grim. Slowly but surely, the panthers were being herded like sheep into the centre of the canyon, surrounded on all sides by the angry Ore Spiders. Any way they looked at it, they were in trouble.

"Think we'll get out of this one?" Orpheus muttered grimly to the older panther, an inkling of his old fear returning. Pincers clicking, the arachnid edged closer warily, looking for an opportunity. Orpheus was determined not to give it one.

"Your guess is as good as mine. But I'm not going down without a fight. We're the Elite Guard, remember?"

Orpheus was about to reply, but at that moment a shout echoed through the canyon and everyone looked up.

"Look out below!"

There was a deep scraping sound, followed by the heavy _whoosh_ of something falling – something _big_ – and then the spider right in front of Orpheus was crushed beneath a massive boulder with a horrible _crunch_. The olive-eyed panther gaped upwards, stunned.

Skelos's face stared back at him from high up on a ledge about half-way up the side of the high canyon. His eyes glinted mischief and he was grinning like an excited cub, not at all like the icy calm leader he usually was. He was leaning lazily on another boulder, about the same size as that one that had dropped.

"Did I get it?" he called down to his assassins. Silt and Orpheus exchanged incredulous looks.

"You got it, Master Skelos," Silt called, eying the crushed spider.

"Inventive," Orpheus muttered, sounding impressed.

There was a clicking sound and Silt turned to see the second spider charging aggressively towards him. He drew his sword back for the strike, but Skelos's yell interrupted him.

"Here comes another!"

The orange-eyed assassin barely had time to leap out of the way before the second boulder crashed down on top of the charging arachnid. It died with a horrible crunching of metal against rock. Silt glanced behind him, and was met with what looked like a war zone of panthers and spiders. He grimaced.

"What now, master Skelos?"

"We get the heck out of here!" Skelos called back, making his way back down from the high ledge, "There's an endless supply of these brutes, and this is their territory. Let's go before they make us their lunch."

"Sounds good to me," Orpheus said, grimacing.

"Help me rally everyone," Skelos ordered, leaping down the last few meters and landing nimbly before his assassins, "We need to clear the way and get out of here."

It was a tedious and dangerous task, trying to gather all the panthers together while avoided the ever increasing hoard of Ore Spiders. But once they were together, they used their sheer force of numbers to drive the arachnids back and slaughter the ones blocking their way. At one point, Skelos grabbed Silt and whispered something in his ear, before returning to the fray. The assassin called Agra and Orpheus to him, as well as several other strong panthers, and they slipped away towards the canyon walls.

"To me!" Skelos yelled, his voice echoing in the canyon, and every panther backed up towards him like a wave of shadows. The spiders converged and scuttled after them, but now there was nothing blocking the panthers from their escape.

It wasn't often that Skelos called for his warriors to retreat – especially not two battles in a row – but this time he had good reason to, and a plan. As he and his band of panthers fled down the canyon, the army of Ore Spiders scuttled threateningly after them. Their multiple pairs of legs granted the arachnids with speed that the panthers couldn't hope to match, let alone outdo.

But suddenly there came the grating sound of stone on stone, and a barrage of boulders tumbled down the sides of the canyon walls, crushing many spiders and trapping others. From the ledges upon which they stood, Silt and his group grinned down at the carnage.

"Not bad," Orpheus grinned, dusting his paws.

"Now let's get out of here before they recover," Silt ordered wisely, and the small group of panthers clambered back down to join the rest of their clan.

"Good work," Skelos praised, when Silt and Orpheus found their way to his side, "Couldn't have done better myself."

"It was your idea, master Skelos," Orpheus pointed out. Skelos just smirked.

Leaving the injured and dying spiders trapped in the avalanche of boulders, the panthers, none the worse for their swift and unexpected battle, turned and hurried on down the canyon. The midday sun beat down on their shoulders as they ran, until at last the end of the canyon was in sight. Beyond the rocky walls stretched an endless land of harsh sand and rolling dunes. The panthers sped up at the sight of it.

"Breath deep, boys." Skelos grinned, jogging alongside his assassins, "We're home."

It took less than half an hour for the panthers to make it back to their village, in high spirits now that they were back in home territory. They were greeted by the numerous pantheresses and cubs that had been left behind, but Skelos didn't stop to chat. Leaving Silt to explain the circumstances, the young leader of the panther tribe bid a quick greeting to his clan and slipped away.

Skelos made his way towards the dusty outskirts of the massive village, where the sand was littered with boulders and odd rock formations. He ignored the scorpion that scuttled over his foot and made his way towards a particularly large formation, several hundred meters away from the village. Within the formation of rock were dark crevices like deep gashes cut into the weathered stone, half-hidden by tangles of spiky desert plants.

It was in front of one of these wide crevices that Skelos stopped and peered into the darkness. Even his sharp eyesight could pick out nothing within the narrow cave of the rock formation, except for the decaying animal bones that littered the sand near the entrance. Placing one hand on the warm rock, Skelos leaned closer and peered into the shadows.

"Anyone home?" His voice rung hollowly in the cave.

At first there was no answer, but then came the sound of something big moving inside the crevice, sand crunching beneath it. It was certainly too big to be a scorpion or even a Desert Jackal. Skelos smirked.

"Did I wake you?" he called into the darkness. A low growl answered him, and a pair of angry eyes appeared through the gloom.

"What do you want?" the owner of the eyes retorted irritably. It was the voice of a young male, sounding particularly bitter at having been disturbed. The eyes searched out the creature that had disturbed it, and narrowed in annoyance.

"What do _you_ want, _Master_ Skelos?" the shadowed beast repeated, his voice becoming mocking upon speaking Skelos's title. Skelos didn't seem to notice; or he ignored it.

"I came to ask you something," the panther said airily, trying to sound nonchalant and mostly succeeding, "If you don't mind."

"Not a favour, I hope," the voice snarled, and the eyes narrowed further, "I don't do favours for panthers."

Skelos seemed unperturbed, "Oh, I think you'll find this a little more interesting than a simple old favour. After all, there's something in it for you, too."

"Go find some other miserably gullible beast to do your dirty work, panther," the creature snapped, "I'm not interested.

Skelos heard the sound of him shifting in the dark, and caught a glimpse of the creature outlined in the dark. He was, without a doubt, a dragon – hardly bigger than the young purple dragon.

"You will be once you hear me out," Skelos replied coolly, having expected this reaction from the dragon.

"Fire away," came the dragon's irritated voice, "I can't promise I'm listening, though."

"There's something I want you to do for me. It will be tricky, but you will be rewarded handsomely, trust me on that."

"Not. Interested."

"And that's not even the best part," Skelos continued, ignoring him, "You know what that is? It comes with revenge on the purple dragon."

Inside the dark cave, the dragon raised his head off his paws and turned to look at Skelos once more, sudden interest shining in his narrowed eyes. Skelos felt a triumphant grin spread across his face and the dragon's eyes glinted with cruel malice.

"Go on…"

"I will not have one of those foul creatures living in _my_ village!" Prowlus snapped, slamming a paw into the table with an angry thud. Hunter didn't flinch. He had expected as much.

"I understand your reluctance, but do you not think we should consider what she has told us?" Hunter replied reasonably, keeping as calm as possible. An angry vein was ticking just above Prowlus's right eye.

"I _have_ considered," he snarled, "and I have decided that she is nothing more than a liar and a spy! Send her back where she came from or so help me, I'll kill her myself!"

Hunter's fur bristled at the venom in his chief's voice, "Don't be so rash, chief. We have no proof that she is a spy…"

"We have no proof that she is telling the truth, either!" Prowlus interrupted angrily, "I will not have her here endangering my village any longer!"

Hunter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As usual, trying to reason with the chief was like pulling teeth – only worse. He hadn't reacted well to Terra, the pantheress they'd found in the valley and brought back to the village, who claimed to have knowledge of the panthers' plans and insisted she wanted to help. Hunter couldn't deny that he had a hard time believing her himself, but if there was even a slim chance that she could be telling the truth, her knowledge could be very useful. But convincing Prowlus to give her a chance was a nigh on impossible feat.

"If, by chance, she is telling the truth…" Hunter said after a moment, fighting to keep his voice level.

"Then she could be very useful," Prowlus finished irritably, "So you've said. But if she's a spy, Hunter? What then? The risk is far too great for us to let her stay!"

Hunter hesitated, "Even so, if we are to believe what she has told us, shouldn't we inform the dragons?"

A sudden idea seemed to light up Prowlus's eyes, "If we are to believe her, then our village is safe for the moment…until the panthers have dealt with Warfang. As it were, the dragons are in greater danger than us, for they are the only barrier standing between our valley and the panthers. They must be informed of this."

"Chief?"

"I want you to take the panther to Warfang," Prowlus said sternly, folding his arms and pacing stiffly in front of the table in his hut, "She can tell them what she has told us, and then they can deal with her – spy or not. She can pose less danger to the Dragon City than she can to our small village. I'm sure there's a prison cell they can keep her in or something…"

Hunter scowled at the thought, but he couldn't deny that Prowlus's idea was a good one. If anyone was going to benefit from Terra's knowledge, it was the dragons. And if she was a spy or an assassin, she could do much less damage to a large city of dragons than she could to a frail, tiny city of cheetahs. Stiffly, the cheetah captain nodded his agreement.

"If that is what you wish. Should I remain in the city with her?"

"That would be best," Prowlus agreed, frowning at the floor as he paced, his thoughts ticking over, "I am placing her in your charge, just in case she does anything…unexpected. You may return here once this issue has been resolved. Then, if the situation demands it, I shall decide whether she may stay in the village or not."

"As you wish," Hunter turned to leave, feeling like he couldn't get out of the stifling hut too soon, "I shall leave immediately."

"Take Cougar with you in case she tries anything," Prowlus called after him, "and bring Forage to me. I need someone to yell at…"

Hunter grimaced as he left the hut. Outside, most of the cheetahs were lounging about the village in the midday sun. He found the pantheress where he had left her – in a tiny hut at the edge of the village, guarded by Cougar, Forage and a disgruntled Mari. The female cheetah still looked as though they had done her a great injustice. She sat on the floor beside Terra, arms crossed, a grumpy expression on her face ever since she had seen Prowlus's reaction to the panther.

"So, is she still a prisoner?" Mari asked sullenly when Hunter entered the hut. Terra looked up hopefully, blue eyes shining from dark fur.

Hunter sighed and ran a paw through the short fur on the top of his head, "Yes and no. She's not staying a prisoner here in Avalar…"

For a moment both girls looked hopeful.

"Instead we're taking her to Warfang. It'll be up to the dragons what to do with her."

Mari looked aghast. Terra just looked petrified.

"D-dragons?" the pantheress stammered, turning white beneath her fur. Having been among Skulk and Skelos's warriors during the battle a few days ago, Terra had seen first hand just how dangerous and terrifying the dragons could be. She wasn't keen to repeat the experience.

"Your knowledge will be more useful to them than it will to us, at least for now," Hunter informed her, "Don't worry; they are an honourable race. I'm sure they will see reason. I hope for your sake that you really are telling the truth."

"I am," Terra said breathlessly, swallowing hard and still trembling with fear.

"Oh, Prowlus wants to see you," Hunter said to Forage grimly, "Good luck. He's in a very bad mood."

Forage groaned, "I'm going to get an earful, aren't I?"

Shaking his head, the blue-furred cat left the hut. After a moment, Mari hauled herself to her feet and held out her paw to Terra. The panther looked up at her in surprise and, blushing behind her fur, took the offered paw.

"So, are we going?" the female cheetah asked brightly. Hunter blinked.

"Hold up," he said, frowning, "I never said you were coming with us."

"What do you mean I'm not coming?" Mari said shrilly, aghast, "I'm not letting you take her alone to the Dragon City! You don't even trust her! _I'm_ the only one who believes her!"

Hunter grimaced, "Why does it matter? It's too dangerous for you outside the village at the moment. Cougar and I can handle this."

"_Ohhhhh_ no!" Mari said stubbornly, folding her arms, "I'm not going to be coddled by you like I'm some sort of cub. Terra needs a friend who believes in her, and right now I'm the only one who does! I'm coming whether you like it or not!"

"You know," Cougar spoke up suddenly, looking amused, "Hunter is the captain – second only to the chief. His word is order. You can't really argue with him…"

Mari's blush almost shone through her pale yellow fur, "I don't care what he is! He's being stupid and I don't like it!"

Hunter groaned and massaged his temples, "Fine. _Fine_. You can come. But if things get dangerous…well, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I _can_?" Mari yelped brightly, her eyes shining, completely ignoring Hunter's warning. Happily, she hugged a stunned Terra, beaming like the sun.

"Y-you really want…to be my friend?" the pantheress stammered, stunned by Mari's resolve, "B-but…you hardly know me!"

"I know!" Mari grinned, "But I want to _get_ to know you! I believe you, even if nobody else does. So, let's be friends. Ok?"

Terra smiled shyly, a sudden rush of gratitude warming her heart, "Ok."

Hunter and Cougar exchanged glances. Moments later, the sounds of Prowlus's frustrated yells reached their keen ears. Forage was indeed getting an earful.

An hour later, the four cats were standing in front of the entrance to the Forbidden Tunnel. Hunter and Cougar were both armed, and even Mari had a small dagger resting against her hip upon Hunter's insistence that she needed protection. Terra was the only one unarmed – Hunter didn't trust her with a weapon.

"It could be a while before we see the valley again," Hunter pointed out as they entered the tunnel, "Depending on what happens at the city."

Cougar shrugged, "I'm sure we'll survive. The dragons are pretty hospitable. But, you know, Mari's only ever been out of the valley once in her life."

"She'll cope," Hunter said grimly, watching the two girls as they walked ahead, paw in paw. He could hear Mari chatting brightly, as though she didn't have a care in the world.

"I've never had the chance to explore the Dragon City before!" the female cheetah was saying, "There was this one time, like a year ago, when the whole village was evacuated and taken to some underground city underneath Warfang – but that was the closest I've ever been to it. I bet you haven't seen much of the city either, huh? We should explore it together! I hear it's huge. Like, almost as big as the whole Valley of Avalar! I hear the moles are really helpful…"

"I hope it was the right choice to let her come along," Cougar muttered quietly. Hunter nodded slowly.

"So do I. But she's right about one thing – Terra needs someone who believes in her, and right now Mari's the only one innocent and naïve enough to do so. I just hope, for both their sakes, that she's telling the truth."

**A/N: You know, I was wondering why people seemed to think I was going to quit this story. But then I realised it probably stemmed from a poorly worded Author's Note at the end of last chapter. When I said 'the story will never be finished' I wasn't talking about THIS story, I was talking about my NaNoWriMo story - which I mentioned the previous chapter and was the reason for my absence during November. Relax, I'm not planning on quitting this story any time soon. **

**So...can anyone tell me where I got the idea for the Ore Spiders from? Go on, take a guess. This chapter is so...disjointed. Eh. Longer one coming next time. I hope. Thank you my dear reviewers, I promise I'll reply to your reviews this time.** **Until then ~ **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Two weeks? Two weeks? This should have been up a week ago. *grumble* Anyway...got this chapter double-beta'd because I didn't like it. xD Thanks dudes. Enjoy~!  
**

**18.**

The warmth of the midmorning sun bled through the scales of eight sleeping dragons, dragging them reluctantly from a world of dreams. As they groggily blinked open bleary eyes, a lone dragonfly hovered lazily over their heads, drifting in a slight morning breeze. Sparx had been awake since dawn, which was unlike him, but his mind was tormented by uncomfortable thoughts.

The dragonfly hadn't had the heart to wake his dragon friends. They had looked so peaceful asleep, and Sparx had reflected uncomfortably that he hadn't seen Spyro look that peaceful in a long time; but it was those sorts of thoughts that Sparx would never admit to thinking.

With a wide yawn, Cynder rose from her slumber and stared almost accusingly at the midmorning sun. That accusing stare shifted slyly to Sparx, who grinned sheepishly.

"Uh…good morning?"

"Why didn't you wake us, Sparx?" she asked irritably, ignoring his greeting as she shook the last remnants of sleep from her head, "It's way past dawn!"

"Hey, I tried!" Sparx insisted indignantly, always ready with a little white lie whenever he felt he needed one, "But I guess you couldn't hear me over Spyro's snoring."

The half-awake purple dragon rubbed his eyes groggily and mumbled, "I snore?"

"I'm surprised you don't hear it yourself," Sparx quipped.

Around them, the others were yawning and stretching, loosening cramped muscles from sleeping on rock all night. Saffron realised she had spent the night squashed between Kazan and her brother, and quickly edged away from the red dragon, the blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Shouldn't we get going?" she suggested edgily, suddenly wide awake and feeling skittish, "We've sort of slept half the morning away…"

"Going?" Spyro asked blankly, feeling a little disorientated from the events of the previous night.

"Yeah, you know, to the creepy moon temple?" Sparx cut in, flicking Spyro's nose, "Did you forget that already?"

"Oh, right. And…you're all coming too?"

"Well, we sure aren't going back to Warfang without you," said Saffron, eyes glinting defiantly. There were murmurings of agreement from the others, and Spyro gave a reluctant smile.

Cynder was the first to spread her wings, membranes flashing red in the sun, "Let's not waste any more time. The sooner we get to the Chronicler, the better. Spyro, do you know the way?"

"I do this time," he replied grimly and, seconds later, the group were in the air, soaring towards the island on the horizon.

Much of the flight over the sea had been covered the previous day, and it took them less than an hour to reach the steep rocky shore of the island. Spyro led them over a small, slaty beach tucked between the towering cliff faces. Following his dream vision that he could still see vividly in his mind's eye, he skirted around the edge of the island towards where the Dragon Temple lay.

It was just as they were flying inland, leaving the sea behind, that Sparx noticed something. As they turned away from the coast, he spotted a series of dark shapes in the corner of his eye back out to sea and whipped his head around to look. For a moment he couldn't make out what they were, until he realised they were heading their way.

"Uh, Spyro?"

"What is it?"

"What's that?"

Confused, Spyro turned his head to follow Sparx's pointing finger and beheld the dark shapes that sat low in the water not far from the coastline. They were fast approaching the shore, and Spyro's keen eyes quickly saw exactly what he feared. Boats. And he could tell, just from the dark-furred figure standing at the stern of the foremost vessel, that these sailors were not friendly.

"That…" Spyro muttered to Sparx, "is trouble. Big trouble."

"Follow me," he added urgently to the others, and banked hard towards the mushroom forest below. They followed, confused by his actions, unaware of the ships approaching the island.

The young dragons landed on the damp, muddy forest floor with muted thuds and looked quizzically to Spyro for an explanation. In the shadows of the giant mushroom trees, the purple dragon felt much safer than he had out in the open air. Keeping his voice low and urgent, he explained what he had seen.

"There are boats out there," he said, "They're coming here. I saw a panther standing on one of the boats. I don't know how many of them there are or what they're doing here, but we had better stay out of their way."

"Panthers," Cynder hissed, "What on earth are they doing here? You don't suppose they followed us?"

"I have no idea," Spyro shook his head, "But let's head to the Dragon Temple for now. We'll have a better vantage point from there. It's too dangerous to fly right now; they'll see us for sure."

Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Saffron, who was suddenly looking very fierce. There was a dangerous glint in her eyes – the look of a predator that had just spotted its prey.

"The panther you saw," she growled to Spyro, "what did he look like?"

"I-I dunno," Spyro responded, confused, "Like any other panther. I didn't get a good look at him; he was too far away."

A deep growl rumbled in Saffron's throat, but she didn't push the issue further. Kazan eyed her edgily, wondering what she was thinking. He couldn't see the image that she saw in the eye of her mind – the image of a grinning panther with sharp blue eyes and a torn, ragged ear.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" Sparx interrupted impatiently, "Let's go! I'm not waiting around to become kitty food!"

"Sparx is right, let's go."

Together, the young dragons slipped away into the dark trees of the mushroom forest, following Sparx, who seemed to know the way. They crept along narrow paths, paws squelching in the mud, knowing they were edging closer to the swamp and the Dragon Temple with every step. It was cold in the forest, with the canopy of mushroom trees blocking out most of the light from the sun. Their wings felt heavy in the damp air.

Eventually, wanting to get his mind off the panthers that he knew were by now somewhere on the island, Spyro tried to think of something to talk about. Cynder was walking beside him in silence, and he found his eyes drawn to the deerskin satchel that hung against her side.

"What's in the pouch, Cyn?" he asked curiously, completely oblivious as to the contents.

To his surprise she jumped as though something had stung her, and looked almost scared before managing to stammer an answer, "N-Nothing! Just…just herbs. U-um, just in case, I mean."

"Oh," Spyro seemed disappointed by the short answer, but Cynder was relieved that he didn't press the subject. After a moment, he began casting around for a different topic of conversation. Behind them, the others were silent but for the falls of their paws.

"It's been awhile since we last did something together," Spyro sighed suddenly, and Cynder glanced at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked softly.

"Before this all started, we always did things together, just you and me," Spyro murmured, "I…really liked those times. But, lately we haven't…"

Cynder uttered a long sigh, "I know, Spyro. But a lot has been happening lately, and we don't really have time for leisure anymore. I really enjoy being with you too, Spyro, but right now we have more important things to worry about."

"More important…" Spyro mumbled, shaking his head, "Sometimes I wish we could live in a world where the most important thing…was just being together."

"Such a world doesn't exist," Cynder murmured sadly, "No matter how hard we wish for it."

'_It isn't fair…'_ Spyro shook the bitter thought away before it could poison his mind too much. Glancing sideways at Cynder, he said, "Just promise me one thing."

Cynder nodded mutely.

Spyro closed his eyes briefly, then met her emerald gaze, "When this is all over, promise me we can have those moments again, just the two of us, whenever we want, as often as we want. All I want is to be with you."

A fond smile touched Cynder's lips, "I promise."

"Hey, hey, I found it!" Sparx called suddenly, having disappeared into the trees ahead a few minutes earlier and only just flown back to the dragons, "The Dragon Temple is just ahead."

"Good work, Sparx," Spyro praised with a grin.

"Come on, everyone," Cynder called to the others, "We're almost there."

Eager to get out of the swampy forest and into a building that offered both shelter and protection from the panthers, the dragons all broke into eager canters. Sparx led them down a narrow track between the mushroom trees and stopped just in front of a large, round, overgrown door set into a grimy, mossy wall. The intricate archway of the door was hardly visible through the grime, moss and vines that covered it.

"This must be one of the side entrances to the temple," Spyro said, eying it carefully. He recalled a time, years ago, when he had entered a similar, overgrown entrance and found himself inside the sprawling Dragon Temple for the first time. Back then he hadn't been accompanied by six friends his own age, but by a single, old fire guardian. The memory was sort of bittersweet now.

"Yeah, doesn't look very hospitable," Zannak muttered from the back of the group. Most of them had never been to the old Dragon Temple before. It had been deserted for a long time, and the only visitors it had seen had been a small search party of dragons that had spent the night within its walls about a year previously.

"Do you think it'll open?" Ember asked sceptically, raising her paw to touch the vine-encrusted door. It was damp and cold.

"I hope so." Grimacing, Spyro set his shoulder against the door and pushed with all his might. It didn't budge. Stumped, the purple stepped back to examine it again.

"Hey, Spyro, I don't think it opens that way," Sparx pointed out. Spyro glared at him, but the dragonfly wasn't finished yet. "How did the old guy open it?"

Spyro almost asked Sparx who he was talking about, until he realised he must have been speaking about Ignitus. Frowning, the purple dragon thought back to that time long ago.

"Something with those creepy statues and geometry…" Sparx mumbled thoughtfully, tapping his chin, "Oh, and there was that weird poem…password…thing. 'We are all doomed, allow us entrance!' Or something."

"Does anyone know what the bug is mumbling about?" Saffron muttered under her breath. Somehow Sparx heard her, and looked deeply offended.

"Password…" Spyro repeated, frowning. Everyone looked at him. He did indeed remember Ignitus uttering an odd sentence that he had intended would open the door. Of course, it hadn't, thanks to the meddling of the apes. But Spyro did wonder if it would work now. If only he could remember what it was.

"The past…" Spyro mumbled, trying to remember the exact words Ignitus had spoken back then. So much had happened since then, he wondered if he would ever remember them. "The past is… dim promise…"

"The past is doomed?" Sparx offered helpfully. Spyro ignored him.

"Maybe we should find another door," Cynder interrupted, "I doubt we'll get this one open. Come on, Spyro."

Either Spyro didn't hear her or he ignored her, because he didn't even look up at her words. He continued mumbling under his breath, frowning, his thoughts in a time many years previously.

"Cynder's right," Kazan said loudly, as though he thought Spyro had gone deaf, "We stay here any longer and those panthers are gonna find us."

"That is if they're looking for us," Flame pointed out, "We don't know what they're doing here. It might have nothing to do with us."

"Whatever. The sooner we get to shelter the better. I don't like being out in the open when we don't know where they are."

"This is hardly out in the open…"

"Regardless," Roku cut in suddenly, "Kazan is right. We will be safer inside the temple. We should find a different entrance as soon as possible."

"Yeah, try telling that to Spyro. I don't think he's listeni-"

"The past is prelude!" Spyro cried suddenly, cutting Flame off. Everyone stared at him as thought he had gone mad. Blushing, the purple dragon stammered something inaudible and looked at the door again.

"Spyro, what on earth are you talking about?" Ember asked blankly.

"It's the password," Spyro replied, frowning, "At least part of it. If I can remember it, I might be able to get this door open."

Then he went back to muttering under his breath. "The past is prelude…the past is prelude…"

Everyone else exchanged sceptical glances and shrugged.

"Might as well let him try to figure it out," Zannak said with a shrug, "He's not going to move any time soon."

And so they sat and waited, listening to Spyro muttering and Sparx offering less-than-helpful suggestions for almost a quarter of an hour. Cynder was sure that, if the two of them hadn't been so intent on remembering this 'password', they could have found a different entrance by now. But, for whatever reason, the purple dragon seemed determined to remember it.

"Maybe we should just move on," Saffron suggested after a time, "If those panthers were looking for us, they'd have found us by now. Maybe we should just bypass the temple and head onwards for the Chronicler. The panthers probably won't even notice us."

"If this takes any longer, I'm going to drag Spyro away from that ridiculous door and we'll do just that," Cynder agreed irritably, her tail swishing impatiently through the undergrowth. Several times Spyro had stepped forward and spoken to the door, only to frown and step back again when it didn't open. Just as Cynder spoke, he stood up to try once more. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

"The past is prelude," he began, as he always did, "Tomorrow a dim promise. Allow us entrance. Do not reject us."

For a moment nothing happened. Disappointed, Spyro sighed and turned away, about to give up. But then Sparx uttered a strangled gasp and, with a great creaking and a heavy cracking of thick vines, the door creaked open. Spyro spun around, mouth open in shock, and received a mouthful of stale air from the other side of the door. He subsided into a coughing fit as the others jumped up and joined him.

"You did it!" Kazan exclaimed incredulously, "No way!"

"Well, at least we didn't waste all that time for nothing," Flame muttered grudgingly. He was the first to step through the door and into the dark, musty tunnel beyond.

The corridor into which they stepped smelled of damp earth and stale air. As they walked, Cynder was almost certain she could feel the uncomfortable sensation of mould growing on her scales. The air was heavy with a certain something she couldn't place. It was as though, in the absence of dragons, lonesome spirits had taken up residence in the deserted temple.

"Nice place," Zannak piped up, the slightest hint of joking sarcasm colouring his voice even as it rung hollowly through the corridor.

"No kidding," Sparx muttered back, rubbing his arms feverishly and looking spooked.

A sad sigh escaped Spyro's lips, "It wasn't always like this. This place was like home to me…"

An uncomfortable silence descended on the group and nothing more was spoken until a door ahead opened out into a large circular room. The room was itself was empty, though vines crept up the walls and moss had accumulated in any nook and cranny it could find. Even small mushrooms had sprouted in the dark dampness at the base of the walls.

"This must be the outskirts of the temple," Cynder said thoughtfully, "The inner temple wasn't nearly this decrepit last time we were here."

"When exactly _was_ the last time you were here?" Saffron asked with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Only about a year ago," the black dragoness said matter-of-factly, "It can't have changed too much since then. Come on, I'm sure it'll be less…_spooky_ further in."

Cynder made for the door across the room, brushing past Spyro on the way without thinking. A soft, almost inaudible _chink_ of metal echoed through the thin deerskin of her satchel as it knocked briefly against Spyro's shoulder. He gave it an odd look, but the black dragoness didn't notice and Spyro didn't say anything. The purple dragon followed the others through the door, a thoughtful frown upon his face.

The inner temple was just as Cynder had expected, albeit slightly more mouldy than she had expected. The damp, swampy smell had mostly faded by the time she led the others into a more familiar room. Everyone froze at the sight of the giant statue that dominated the room, except for Cynder, Spyro and Sparx, who were quite accustomed to it. But Cynder shot a glare at the carved stone face, as she always had done. No dragon as malevolent as Malefor should have ever been immortalised in stone.

"Whoa," Flame said, grudgingly awed by the colossus, "Who's the big guy?"

"A dragon who should never have lived," Cynder spat venomously, garnering several curious stares from the others. She turned sharply, tail swishing, and walked out of the room. Spyro hurried after her, but no one else moved.

"What did she mean?" Kazan asked blankly, staring after the black dragoness.

Flame, looking annoyed that Cynder had snapped at him, muttered something under his breath that sounded like "Hell if I know…"

Ignoring everyone else, Roku was pacing around the massive statue, eying the intricate detail around the base, admiring the craftsmanship. His keen gaze quickly picked out a series of carved stone runes on the edge of the podium upon which the statue stood. Many young dragons were unable to read this language – it was ancient and outdated, and was no longer taught in the academy. But the earth dragon had grown up in the underground colony of Ethra, where the ancient writings were considered just as important as they had been all those centuries ago.

"Malefor," his voice echoed through the chamber, and everyone jumped. They turned to stare at him as he, in turn, gazed upon the old worn runes. They were difficult to decipher, but Roku was certain there was no mistake.

"This is a statue of Malefor," the black earth dragon said, turning to gaze upon the others.

"How do you know?" Flame muttered irritably, striding over.

"It's written here," Roku replied, unperturbed by the red dragon's annoyance, gesturing at the runes with a paw. Flame peered closely at them.

"Looks like a bunch of spiky lines to me," he grumbled as everyone crowded around to look.

"Ah!" Ember gasped suddenly, and they looked sharply at her, "Those are ancient draconic runes! This must have been carved over a thousand years ago…"

The pink dragoness stared at Roku, "You can read this?"

The earth dragon shrugged, "It was taught to everyone at Ethra. I still remember most of it."

"Amazing," Ember breathed, awed, staring at the runes again, "So…it definitely says this is Malefor?"

Roku nodded slowly, "The runes spell out his name, nothing more. I cannot think of another reason for why his name would be here if this statue were not of him."

"So that's what Cynder meant," Saffron murmured, gazing up at the proud stone face of the dragon. A pair of narrow eyes glared forever into nothingness, imbedded with shards of yellow topaz. A shudder crept through her body. "Why would they make a statue of such a horrible dragon?"

"Because," Roku murmured darkly, "not even the ancients knew how horrible he would eventually become."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room and it became almost stifling. Sparx, who had been hanging back awkwardly ever since Spyro and Cynder had left the room, suddenly flew forward and broke the spell.

"Come on, quit dawdling, Spyro and Cynder are waiting!" he cried, waving his arms impatiently. Jolted out of a less-than-pleasant reverie, the group gratefully followed the dragonfly out of the room and away from the ever-silent statue of the Dark Master.

They found Spyro and Cynder through the next doorway, sitting together on a large landing and gazing out across the canopy of the mushroom forest. The couple turned around when Sparx led the others over to join them. Cynder's eyes still had an edgy glint to them, but she said nothing.

"We've got a good vantage point from up here," Spyro pointed out, gazing over the forest, "But I can't see any sign of the panthers. Maybe they've moved on."

"Perhaps we should, too," Cynder replied, glancing at him. The purple dragon hesitated.

"We'll stay a little longer," he replied, "Just in case. If they're looking for us, they'll definitely come here – this temple stands out easily."

Cynder nodded reluctantly as the others spread out to gaze over the edge of the landing and observe the forest beyond. Flame became bored after only a few minutes, and managed to convince Ember, Saffron and Zannak to help him explore the rest of the temple. Spyro didn't try to stop them – he was too busy keeping look-out and wondering what Cynder could possibly be hiding from him in that satchel of hers.

The four curious dragons quickly made their way through the cavernous room that housed the dragon statue, uneasily feeling like its topaz eyes were watching them, and into the room beyond. This room was much smaller, but no less intriguing. A shallow pool of murky, blue-green water threw odd patterns on the walls, filling the whole room with eerie turquoise light. Flame approached it eagerly.

"What the heck is this thing?" he wondered aloud, pacing around it and stopping to gingerly dip a paw into the glass-like surface of the pool. Tiny ripples spread across the water at his touch, but he snatched his paw back quickly. It was cold as ice.

"Don't you ever listen in class?" Ember sighed, rolling her eyes, "It's a Pool of Visions. Cyril told us about them once."

"Why would I want to listen to what _Cyril_ has to say?" Flame drawled, snorting. Zannak snickered softly, but Saffron stepped forward to stare into the glassy water of the pool.

"I remember that lesson," she said quietly, "He said that special dragons are able to see visions if they look into the pool long enough."

Saffron stared hard at the pool for several minutes, but eventually smiled sheepishly and looked up, "Guess I'm not one of them."

"What a surprise!" Zannak sniggered sarcastically. Saffron shot him a glare.

"Cyril said it takes patience," Ember pointed out, stepping forward to stare into the pool herself, "The old Fire Guardian, Ignitus, was able to do it, he said."

Flame yawned, "Whatever, there's probably nothing you could see in there that we couldn't find with a little bit of exploring. Let's get out of here; this is boring."

But though Zannak agreed and the two males started walking away, Saffron and Ember stayed at the edge of the pool. Both were staring into the pool as though it was a window to another world. But, after several minutes of staring – Flame and Zannak were starting to get very bored – all Saffron saw was her own reflection. She sighed with disappointment and stepped back, opening her mouth to call Ember away. But the words died on her lips.

When she had first stared into the pool, Ember had seen nothing at all – except for her curious reflection staring back at her. But, after a time, the image of her reflection had started to become foggy. A white mist appeared in the centre of the pool, slowly spreading outwards to encompass the entire surface of the water. It began to swirl, slowly at first, then gathering speed like a whirlpool. Enthralled, Ember felt herself being drawn in.

Images, broken and disjointed, began to swim across the surface of the swirling pool before her very eyes. It only took a moment for an image to stabilise in the centre of the pool, slowly gaining clarity the longer Ember stared at it. There was no colour in the image – just musky tones of old parchment. A great dragon had appeared in the pool, his face screwed up in anger, his jaws open in a snarl. His very expression filled her with fear.

The image swirled again, to be replaced by a shattered window, a falling dragoness, and a scream of terror that Ember felt rather than heard. The image grew stronger, brighter, larger, until it completely filled her vision with frightening clarity. Then suddenly it disappeared, and Ember was once more staring at her own – now frightened – reflection.

"Ember?"

It took the pink dragoness several moments to catch her breath, but she quickly turned to find Saffron staring anxiously at her.

"Are you ok?" the electric dragoness asked, frowning.

Ember managed a strained smile, panting, "I-I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Did you see something?" Saffron pressed anxiously, "What did you see?"

The pink dragoness hesitated, the horrible images still fresh in her mind. She couldn't make sense of what she had just seen, but she knew that it had not been a pleasant scenario. Something terrible had happened. Or was it that something terrible was yet to happen? The thought made her shudder with fear. But she shook her head.

"No, I didn't see anything," she told Saffron, a little too brightly, "Let's go, shall we?"

Saffron looked at her oddly, but Ember avoided her eyes. Shaking her head, the electric dragoness gave the odd pool one last glance before following the other three out of the room. By the time they finished exploring the rest of the – much less exciting – temple, she had put the pool entirely out of her mind.

Unbeknownst to the dragons now exploring the Dragon Temple, Skulk had not beached his tiny fleet along the northern shore of the island. Instead, following Burdock's instructions, they had skirted around to the east and were now closing in on the Ancient Grove at the southern peak of the island. In fact, the panthers had not even noticed the dragons, thanks to Sparx's prying eyes and Spyro's timely manoeuvring. As far as Skulk was concerned, the island was as dragon-free as Burdock had told him it was.

So it was that, when the panthers finally pulled up at a narrow beach near the edge of the Ancient Grove, Skulk had only Death Hounds on his mind. They secured their boats to the broken trunks of old trees with whatever rope they had found in their 'borrowed' vessels and left them bobbing silently half in the water and half in the sand. Skulk surveyed his crew when they were all standing on dry – or mostly dry – land. Many held thick curls of rope or rolled up lengths of wire they had found back on the mainland or in their vessels.

"Right," Skulk announced, hefting his own rope, "Remember what we're here for. We want these beasts _alive_, got it? Stay in groups or pairs – you don't want to come off second best with one of these hounds from what I've heard. Utilise anything and everything around you. Are we clear?"

He was answered by a shout of affirmation, and nodded in satisfaction.

"Burdock," he called to the chubby panther, "Stay with the boats. Erebos; you're with me."

"Sir," the two panthers replied at the same time – but while Erebos barked the word sharply, Burdock only stammered nervously. Skulk seemed satisfied nonetheless.

"I want you all back here by sundown, hound or no hound!" he added sharply to the rest, and then turned away with a shout of, "Move out!"

The Ancient Grove turned out to be just as Skulk had expected. The further they walked through the trees, the darker it became as the thick canopy blocked out the feeble light from the sun. The cold grass underpaw was an odd, navy blue in colour, as were the leaves of the dark, gnarled trees. It took them only minutes to find the vibrant purple river that wound through the grove, glowing with a poisonous sheen. It was here that the panthers began to split up.

Skulk lingered by the river's edge for several moments, watching the poisonous water – if it could even be called water – stream past, carrying with it dead branches and the disintegrating remains of some long dead animal. It even smelled poisonous, Skulk thought as he took in the strange, unfamiliar scents of the grove. A harsh buzzing sound interrupted his thoughts, followed by a yelp and a dull thud.

"Damn mites," Erebos muttered, wiping some sort of fluorescent goo from the butt of his spear. The twitching remains of a large, brightly coloured beetle lay at his feet.

"Come," Skulk said sharply, as Erebos did an odd dance to avoid another of the large beetles. Their iridescent wings shimmered in the weak light, until the panther crushed them under the butt of his spear.

Ignoring the pesky grove mites, Skulk made his way along the river back, further into the dark trees of the grove. Erebos stumbled after him, whacking at the mite that had attached itself to his leg and refused to let go. Its prying jaws tried and failed to get through his thick fur to the skin below before the panther could knock it off.

"Stupid things," Erebos muttered, rubbing his leg, "Go find someone else's blood to suck!"

"Stop making so much noise," Skulk snapped irritably, "I'm trying to listen."

"Whoops."

In the silence that followed, Skulk heard many things – the quiet rush of the river, the thoughtful humming of grove mite wings, the gentle hiss of wind through the leaves, the haunting _co-ell _of an unseen bird hidden deep within the foliage. But he heard nothing that sounded like any sound a Death Hound would make. Wordlessly, he moved on, Erebos following with considerably less silence.

Despite the amount of noise Erebos was making – or perhaps because of it – the two panthers did eventually come across their first hound. They'd only just entered a small clearing dominated by a large fallen tree when Skulk heard the territorial howls. On instinct he drew one of his twin rapiers and spun in the direction of the sound. The beast stared back at him from within the trees.

It was every bit as ugly as the picture in Sablefur's notes had depicted. A short, heavy body like a barrel covered with course, navy blue fur; a set of fierce jaws that looked as though they could crunch bone; and a strange, reptilian tail covered with leathery greenish skin. A pair of feral red eyes stared out from its flat face, glaring anger at the panthers. With a guttural snarl, it charged.

"Whoa-ho!" Erebos yelped, throwing himself to the side – but it was not he the hound had charged for.

Skulk barely had time to dodge. The hound was _fast_. But he danced nimbly out of the way, feeling the whoosh of air as the canine sped past. It struck the trunk of the fallen tree with a loud _thunk_ that made Erebos wince. Skulk grinned, but the hound backed away from the now-cracked trunk, seemingly unharmed by the collision. It turned narrow eyes on Skulk once more, green-tinged saliva dripping from its gruesome fangs.

"Fast, strong, and sturdy," Skulk mused aloud, circling the hound slowly, "My kind of animal. Go on and try it, you ugly brute!"

The hound uttered an unearthly howl of rage and charged once more, but this time Skulk was ready for it. Sidestepping easily, he struck the hound a glancing blow to the head with the pommel of his rapier. In the brief moment it staggered in a daze, Skulk had stepped around behind it and looped the thick coil of rope in his paw around the hound's thick, burly neck.

The rope, which had been previously tied into a lasso, quickly tightened around the hound's neck as it tried to pull away. Angrily it turned on Skulk, who had the rope held firmly in his paws. But the panther danced out of the way as the hound charged, and the rope tightened further as it came to the end of its tether. The hound uttered a strangled yelp, recovered, and turned to try again.

With every missed charge, the rope around the Death Hound's neck grew tighter and tighter, until it could hardly breathe. At last it stopped as it tried to catch its breath, and Skulk took the opportunity to leap onto its back, flattening the breathless creature to the ground. It struggled feebly for only a moment, before it lay still, panting, underneath the panther.

Skulk allowed himself a small grin of triumph, "There. Not so hard at all. Erebos, help me get this brute back to the boats."

"Gotcha, sir."

The panting Death Hound hardly put up a fight – it seemed to have given up – and Skulk hardly needed help to half-lead, half-drag it back to the vessels. They were the first back, but soon enough a small army of hounds were grouped along the shore – some held fast by ropes tied to the thick trunks of trees, others imprisoned in the metal cages they had found on the beach at the mainland. Soon, one hundred panthers had retrieved fifty Death Hounds from the grove. It wasn't much, but it was a good start.

"Once Skelos manages to make a deal with those ugly Dreadwings, we can return to capture more of these brutes," Skulk told his assassins, surveying his bounty with satisfaction, "Then we can fly them to the mainland, and forsake these blasted boats."

It wasn't long after that when one of the panthers came running up with some very interesting news.

"Master Skulk, sir!" he barked, snapping to attention, "We have spotted dragons just to the west, sir! They're flying this way!"

"Dragons?" Skulk repeated incredulously, suddenly interested, "Show me!"

Beside him, Erebos pointed towards the sky, "I believe that's them there, sir."

Sure enough, there soaring through the clouded sky above the grove, were the unmistakable shapes of eight dragons and a glowing yellow insect.

It was past midday by the time Spyro decided it was safe to leave the temple. There had been no sign of the panthers he had seen sailing towards the island, and he almost caught himself wondering if it had all just been an illusion. But, then again, Sparx had seen them too. Whichever way he looked at it, it seemed the panthers had not come to the island for them after all.

"I wonder what they came here for, then," Flame called over the wind as the gang of dragons made their way towards the Ancient Grove and the vast ocean beyond, "I mean, it's not like there's much here! Just lots of swampland!"

"I have no idea," Spyro called back, "But we should thank the ancestors they didn't come for us! Let's just get out of here before they notice we're here and change their plans…whatever their plans are."

Unfortunately for the dragons, it was already too late for that. They had barely reached the edge of the Ancient Grove when the panthers spotted them. At first none of them noticed. But even the most distracted of dragons would notice if he was almost shot down by the bolt of a crossbow.

The metal arrow shot so close to Spyro's face he felt the whistle of the wind against his cheek. With a yell of alarm he reeled backwards, his wings frantically treading air. In his confusion, he didn't notice where the crossbow bolt had come from. But a shout from Cynder caught his attention.

"Down there!" she yelled, the wind almost whipping her words away, "Panthers!"

"The heck?" Flame yelled, dodging another projectile as he tried to get a better look at their land-bound opponents.

"They're shooting at us!" Saffron yelled unnecessarily as confusion turned to panic. The panthers, following their leader's order, were aiming over two dozen crossbows at the airborne dragons – and they had the element of surprise. In the confusion that followed, Roku took charge.

"Follow!" he roared as the air was filled with a haze of arrows that threatened to cut them all down. The black dragon wheeled sharply and shot back the way they had come, winging higher as he did so. Dodging airborne projectiles, the others followed, desperate to get out of range.

But the panthers weren't about to let them go so easily. Frustrated by the less-than-satisfying aim of his warriors, Skulk snatched the crossbow from the hands of a nearby panther and took aim himself. Narrowing his ocean blue eyes, he pointed the crossbow square at the fleeing purple dragon and pulled the trigger.

The bolt flew straight and true, sharp metal glinting in the midday light – until it found its target in the wing of a yellow dragoness when she unknowingly passed between it and the purple dragon. With a high-pitched shriek, her wing crumpled and she tumbled helplessly towards the forest below. Skulk swore under his breath.

Saffron's shriek stopped them all in their tracks. By the time they'd turned their heads to look, she was already tumbling out of the air, straight towards the thick canopy below. Most were too stunned to act in time, but Kazan banked hard and shot after her within a few seconds.

"Saffron!" he roared over the rushing wind, as behind him Roku and Zannak dived too. But the falling dragoness was too far away, and all three dragons knew they'd never reach her before she disappeared through the canopy and hit the forest floor. Fear turned Kazan's blood cold, and for a moment he thought his heart had stopped.

Seconds before Saffron crashed through the thick canopy, a blur of black and bronze shot from the trees just below her. In a second it had reached her, snatching her out of the air in one swift movement, and disappearing back into the foliage. Kazan's eyes widened in alarm, but it didn't stop him crashing through the canopy after her, Zannak and Roku hard on his tail.

In the murky gloom beneath the forest's canopy, Kazan's eyes picked out only a two things – the limp yellow body of Saffron in the leaf litter, and the bronze-scaled dragon that stood over her. With a growl, he shot down and rammed into the unfamiliar dragon, throwing him off his feet and several meters away from the dragoness. Then, ignoring the wincing stranger, Kazan wheeled around and ran to her.

"Saffron," he gasped when he reached her side, anxiously nuzzling her pale cheek, "Saffron, are you ok?"

But the fall, or perhaps the injury, seemed to have knocked her senseless, and she didn't reply. Suddenly Kazan found himself pushed roughly out of the way as Zannak hurried over to inspect his limp, unmoving sister. Her head lay heavy in the leaf litter, mouth half open and eyes half shut. Her left wing was splayed across the ground, blood congealing around the tattered hole in the membrane and staining the leaves beneath. If he hadn't been able to see the rise and fall of her sides, Zannak would have believed her dead.

"Sis! Come on, sis," he pleaded, nudging her gently with the tip of his snout, "Don't do this, please! N-not you…not you, too…"

"She's alive, Zannak," Roku spoke up suddenly, having landed beside the gold dragon, "I wouldn't worry. That wound is none too serious. And her fall was…interrupted."

His emerald gaze shifted to the bronze dragon that lay only meters away, just as Spyro and the others descended to join them.

"Is she ok?" Ember asked desperately the instant she touched earth. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the unconscious Saffron.

"She'll be fine," Roku said before the other two could speak, "Thanks to her…rescuer."

The confusion only lasted for a moment, before everyone's gazes slid across to the stranger. The bronze dragon, upon noticing they were all staring at him, quickly struggled to his feet. He gave Kazan a wary glance, for the crimson dragon was giving him a none-too-friendly glare of suspicion as he stood protectively over Saffron. But everyone else regarded the newcomer with interest.

He had, Spyro thought, unusual scales. They were of a pale bronze colour, slick with an almost metallic sheen. When the stranger moved his head to take in the stares of the dragons surrounding him, Spyro noticed his horns were pitch black and utterly straight, protruding back from his head at an angle. In the gloomy light of the mushroom forest, his eyes appeared a rich, reddish brown.

"F-forgive me," the stranger stammered suddenly, "I…"

"Who are you?" Kazan asked swiftly, cutting him off. There was still distrust lingering in his golden eyes. But the newcomer didn't get the chance to argue because, at that very moment, there came the sound of something crashing through the forest towards them.

Kazan swore loudly at the sound, "The panthers! We can't stay here; we've got to go!"

"Unlike you to run from battle," Flame pointed out with a half sneer, but Kazan replied with the utmost of disdainful glares.

"In case you haven't noticed, _some_ of us aren't in any shape to fight," he looked pointedly at the still senseless Saffron, and Flame quickly shut his mouth.

"You can tell us who you are later," Kazan said sharply to the stranger, "For now, let's get the heck out of here!"

They waited only enough time for Zannak to get his unconscious sister onto his back, and then they were running through the trees as though their lives depended on it. Which, Spyro thought bitterly, they probably did.

None of them knew where they were going, only that they had to get away from their pursuers. It was Sparx who first recognised the direction they were running in, and he excitedly informed Spyro of this fact as they dodged around the trunks of trees and through thick brushes of undergrowth.

"If we keep going this way, we'll end up back at the swamp! We might see mum and dad again!"

But Spyro seemed aghast at this news, "What? But that means we're leading the panthers straight to them! We've got to change direction!"

So, to the confusion of everyone behind him, Spyro turned a sharp left and shot off through the ever-thickening forest. The ground underpaw became swampier with every few meters, and they were making far too much noise for Spyro's liking. He was running out of breath, too, gasping as he tried to draw the swampy air into his lungs.

Eventually, panting with exhaustion and unable to run another step, the purple dragon stumbled to a stop in the tiniest of clearings. He sat down heavily, tongue lolling out, as the others caught up to him. They were panting just as hard, especially Zannak who looked ready to drop with Saffron still draped limply across his back. Nervously, they all stopped to listen.

The swamp was silent. Eerily silent. Spyro breathed a sigh of relief.

"I think…we lost them," Cynder said beneath gasps, taking in great gulps of air with each breath. At these words, Zannak collapsed gratefully onto his belly, swearing to never run again.

Roku helped Kazan shift Saffron off her tired brother's back, setting her down on the soft, mossy ground. The swamp mud squelched under their paws with every step. Somewhere nearby, a Frogweed croaked mournfully. Nervously, the group exchanged glances.

"What now?" Ember asked quietly, leaning against Flame's shoulder as she caught her breath. Spyro cast the unconscious Saffron a glance.

"We're not going anywhere with her wing in that state," he replied, completely at a loss, "We need somewhere to hide out while we think of what to do…"

"We could always pay mum and dad a visit," Sparx piped up hopefully. Everyone, except for Cynder and Spyro, stared curiously at him.

"Your parents?" Kazan asked, raising an eyebrow, "They're here?"

"They live in the swamp nearby," Spyro explained, frowning thoughtfully, "I suppose we could take Saffron there… We might find some spirit gems nearby to fix her wing."

"I don't see what else we can do," Cynder agreed with a shake of her head, "At least in the swamp you'll be in familiar territory. Right now we don't know where we are, or if the panthers are still hunting for us."

"What the heck were they doing there, anyway?" Flame added angrily. Roku gave him a steady look.

"You didn't see?" the black dragon asked, "There were cages full of strange swamp creatures with them…canines of some sort. They must have been capturing them…but for what reason?"

Spyro seemed to know. Bitterly he muttered a single word, "War."

Everyone stared at him.

"I didn't get a good look myself," he confessed, "but I'd wager anything those things in the cages were Death Hounds. I've had dealings with them before, when they were part of Malefor's army. If they're trying to tame the Death Hounds, it can't mean anything good. I…I hope Warfang is ok."

Clearly, everyone else shared this sentiment. They looked worriedly at each other, each thinking the same thing – except for the confused bronze dragon who wasn't sure he knew what was going on. The other dragons seemed too preoccupied to notice he was still there. So, not sure what else to do, he sidled over to check if the yellow dragoness was ok.

She was a pretty little thing, he thought, eyes roving over her sleek sunflower scales. He wondered what she had done to provoke the panthers into shooting her, grimacing as he beheld the gaping wound in her pale wing. Bright red blood pulsed from the tiny, intricate network of blood vessels within the membrane of her wing, like liquid rubies. There was mud smeared across the scales of her cheek where it had come into contact with the swampy earth.

Perhaps Saffron sensed the staring eyes of the unfamiliar dragon, or perhaps it was the pulsing pain in her wing, but suddenly she uttered a groan and opened her eyes. The pale bronze dragon took a nervous step back, but her roving violet eyes quickly locked onto him as her vision refocused. The confusion was evident on her face as she groggily raised her head.

"Who…?" she started to say, confused by the throbbing pain in her wing and the odd dragon standing over her. But at that moment the others realised she had awoken and rushed over.

"Saff, you're ok!" Zannak cried cheerily, and threw himself on her, much to her chagrin. She winced when his heavy body fell on her wounded wing.

"Watch it," she groaned, pushing him weakly away.

"Oh, whoops. Sorry, sis."

"How are you feeling?" Cynder asked gently.

"My wing is killing me," Saffron groaned, and caught a glimpse of the bloody tatters of torn membrane, "…No wonder. What happened?"

"Those bastard panthers shot you down," Kazan growled bitterly, looking very much like he'd like to tear the felines limb-from-limb with his bare claws.

Saffron scowled, "Figures. And, um…who are you?"

The bronze dragon blushed when the curious eyes of eight dragons and one dragonfly turned on him. Some, like the two red dragons, looked suspicious – the others just looked interested. Briefly he wondered why there was a dragonfly with them, but put that out of his mind.

"I, um…" he faltered under their pressing stares, "My…my name is Nadi."

"That sure tells us a lot," Flame muttered sarcastically, before proceeding to interrogating the bronze dragon, "Where did you come from? Why are you here? _What_ the heck are you doing here? Why did you help us? What the heck is going on? You're our age, dammit! Where the heck did you come from?"

The bronze dragon – who they now knew as Nadi – seemed to wilt under all the questions. Feeling sorry for him, Spyro quickly stepped in.

"Look, let's just get to the swamp for now," he said soothingly to his friends, "Our friend here – Nadi? – can tell us his story when we get there. Besides, the further away from the panthers we are, the safer I'll feel. And we need to find gems to heal Saffron's wing."

Flame grumbled reluctantly, "Aren't we already in a swamp?"

"Yeah, but not THE swamp!" Sparx piped up, to which Flame just raised an eyebrow.

"Saffron, can you walk?" Spyro asked, ignoring the exchange between dragonfly and fire dragon.

The yellow dragoness shrugged and proceeded to stand up. She stood tall for a moment, but upon placing her weight on her left foreleg as she moved to make a step, her legs almost gave out beneath her. Staggering, she managed to steady herself with a grimace, trying to ignore the sharp pains shooting through her wing and into her shoulder.

"I can…manage…" she grimaced. Spyro didn't seem convinced.

"Idiot," Kazan snorted, and planted himself firmly beside her. Glaring at him, and reluctant to accept help from the crimson dragon, Saffron raised her head and made to step away from him. But her left leg crumpled again, and she would have hit the ground had Kazan not jumped forward to take her weight.

"You're being stubborn," he growled.

"You're being annoying," she snapped back, but didn't try to walk alone after that.

Mortified, she was forced to make the rest of the trip to the swamp leaning heavily on the fire dragon and wishing anyone else could have stepped in to take his place. To take her mind off it, she spent much of the slow trek observing the new dragon. He was, she decided, very interesting. She quickly became mesmerised by the wickedly sharp blade of bone on the end of his tail, swishing side to side ahead of her. If he felt her staring eyes, he said nothing of it.

By the time Spyro reached familiar territory, it was well past midday and everyone was covered from paw to underbelly in sticky swamp mud. To make matters worse, he had seen no sign of any spirit gems – red, green or blue – and was starting to think they'd never find any. But then he stepped out into a wide clearing and his eyes fell on a familiar, stunted mushroom tree in the very centre. Sparx let out a contented sigh.

"Home again," he said, leaning on Spyro's horn, "Why don't you stay here while I go see if I can find mum and dad? They're probably at the village."

"Right," Spyro agreed, the warm glow of nostalgia already tingling in his scales. He could hardly believe that another year had passed without visit to his old swamp home, and resolved to visit more often. But then he remembered the recent dangers of the world, and his spirits dampened once more.

"So wait," Flame piped up as everyone sat down awkwardly around the gnarled mushroom tree, "You lived in this dump?"

"When I was just a hatchling," Spyro nodded, "That was before I knew I was a dragon."

"So, uh…" Kazan raised an eyebrow, "What exactly did you think you _were_, then?"

A soft laugh slipped from Cynder's lips and she answered for the embarrassed purple dragon, "A dragonfly."

A wide grin spread across Zannak's face, "No kidding? You must have been one chubby dragonfly."

"So Sparx always said," Spyro grimaced, but he was grinning at the memories.

As the friends chatted and laughed together, Nadi hung back, his paws shifting nervously. He could feel the yellow dragoness staring at him, and it made him edgy – but the others were acting as though they had forgotten he was there. It seemed, he thought, that they had a lot on their minds.

Suddenly, Roku stood up. The others stared at him, but he merely smiled and said he would return soon. Then, ignoring the stares of his friends, he walked over to the confused bronze dragon.

"Walk with me," he said to the stranger. Somehow, the bronze dragon felt he was obliged to accept. Silently, glancing once at the watching Saffron, he nodded to Roku and fell into step beside him.

"Wonder what that was about?" Spyro murmured as the two dragons disappeared into the trees. No one answered him.

Roku led Nadi deep into the trees, waiting until they were out of earshot of the others before he chose to speak. Before he did so, he took a moment to silently observe the bronze dragon, who stared back at him almost challengingly. At last he offered a friendly smile and spoke.

"I thought you would be more reluctant to speak in front of a crowd of strangers," he said, stepping slowly over the moss-choked earth, "It can be very intimidating. My name is Roku, but the way."

"Right…" said the bronze dragon, frowning, "You'll have to forgive me, this is all very confusing. To tell the truth, I'm afraid there are a lot of things I don't understand. Where is this place? Is this the mainland?"

"No. This is the Isle of the Dragon Temple. The mainland is only half a day's flight to the north," Roku paused, thinking, and then added, "You are a wind dragon."

Mild shock registered in Nadi's deep red eyes, "How did you…?"

Roku shook his head, a certain white dragoness lingering in his mind, "It doesn't matter. What does matter is where you came from. Wind dragons are increasingly rare these days. And I would be right to assume you did not come from Warfang or Ethra?"

A brief frown flickered across Nadi's face, "Yes, you are right. I have heard of Warfang – who hasn't? – the mighty dragon city… But what is this Ethra of which you speak?"

"An underground city in which I have lived the last seventeen years of my life."

"If you don't mind me saying, you don't look much older than seventeen."

A wry smile touched Roku's lips, "Nor do you. But you are correct; I left Ethra and journeyed to Warfang only a few days ago. But it would be pretentious to call the great city my home…not yet. So I must ask again; where have you come from? And what do you know of the last colonies of wind dragons?"

"What makes you think I know anything of them?" Nadi asked softly, but there was sadness in his tone that Roku did not miss.

"Because I cannot think of where else you could have come from."

Nadi's pawsteps slowed and stopped with a squelching of mud. Roku halted and looked back at his companion, but the bronze dragon's eyes were fixed on a patch of small, luminous mushrooms by his paws. As he stared, seemingly lost in thought, a thick drop of shimmering purple sap slid down the stalk of the largest mushroom.

"We had a good life, you know?" Nadi said solemnly, eyes downcast, "Away from the mainland…away from the war…away from the Dark Master's prying eyes. It was peaceful, despite the chaos that we knew reigned on the mainland. We were stupid to think it would last forever."

Roku said nothing, his curious bright green eyes fixed on the wind dragon. After another moment of heavy silence, Nadi looked up to meet his gaze.

"Do you know the story of the wind dragons and the guardian of wind?"

Roku nodded slowly, "My mentor once told it to me. She said the wind dragons of Ethra were the last of their kind to remain on the mainland. All the rest fled long ago from the wrath of the Dark Master, never to be seen again."

Nadi stared thoughtfully at the glowing patch of mushrooms again, "My father told me the story long ago. A long, long time ago, when the Dark Master was just a youngling, there were five guardians – one of earth, one of electricity, one of fire, one of ice, and one of wind. The five dragon subspecies, as my father called them, lived in harmony, until the Dark Master rose to power. They story goes that, to prove his power over the dragon race, he decided to drive one of the subspecies to extinction with the assistance of his rising army of apes."

"And wind dragons had long been considered the weakest of the subspecies, and therefore his easiest targets," Roku continued grimly, "Yes, so I have been told. In order to escape Malefor's wrath, the wind guardian led the wind dragons into hiding. The stories say they fled over the ocean, and were never seen again. The Dark Master considered the disappearance of an entire subspecies his victory, despite failing his earlier plan to eradicate them entirely. They say he ordered the immediate demise of any wind dragon should one ever be seen again. The rest of his story is history, but the tales fail to tell what happened to the wind dragons. Many believed they set up separate colonies on islands in the centre of the ocean, away from the chaos of the outside world."

"Then I suppose they guessed correctly," Nadi mused quietly, a sombre tone in his voice. Roku eyed him with interest.

"May I guess that you hail from one of these colonies?"

"I do. We led a peaceful existence away from the chaos of war, but we should have known that there is more than one way to kill a dragon."

An odd shudder swept over Nadi's scales, and his eyes gained a haunted look that made the back of Roku's neck prickle.

"It started slowly, you know. They always do. Just a small illness…hardly significant. But slowly it spread through the entire colony. Dragons started dying, slowly withering away in the inescapable claws of the sickness. Others searched frantically for a cure, but they were fighting a losing battle. The colony began to crumble. Nowhere was safe. With every death, two more became sick. My friends…my family… There was nothing I could do. So I fled. Fled before I too succumbed to the endless slumber of the sickness…"

With a violent shudder, the wind dragon shut his eyes and whimpered, "I-I don't want to think about it anymore! I flew…for days and days, looking for somewhere, anywhere to land; trying not to think of the dead and dying dragons I had left behind. W-we may have escaped the war, but I fail to see how the fate of my colony was any better than that of those subjected to the wrath of the Dark Master! Th-they…we…couldn't stop it. We were _helpless_."

Nadi took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. They were glassy with unshed tears, and still haunted with horrible memories. But, after a moment he seemed to regain some composure. Roku listened without comment, his expression unreadable.

"I arrived here only a few days ago," Nadi said, after several deep breaths that calmed him down, "I've been wandering this place, looking for intelligent life ever since. I-I thought this might have been the mainland. But I guess not…"

"What will you do?"

The wind dragon looked up in surprise, "What?"

Roku met his gaze solemnly, "What will you do now? You have just lost your home and your family, like many others who lost theirs during the war. So what now?"

Nadi hesitated, "I-I…I find a new home, I guess. Somewhere away from the ocean…I don't want to see the islands any more. They remind me too much of home. But where should I go? The mainland is chaos; the Dark Master rules all…"

"The war ended about one year ago, Nadi," Roku interrupted suddenly, "The mainland is not the hostile place it once was. I would suggest heading to Warfang. You will be welcome there."

Nadi looked utterly stunned, like a dragon who had just been informed his whole life was but a dream, "Th-the _Dragon City_? It stands? The war…is _over_?"

Roku allowed himself a small smile, "I do not blame you for being stunned. Come, we should return to the others for now. A certain purple dragon should be able to fill you in on the other details…"

**A/N: What is this? A new OC? I've gone mad, haven't I? You'd think I had enough already... Anyway, a bit of wind dragon history. Been waiting to explain that for aaaaages. I really need to get back into reading fics, too...playing waaaaay too much Ratchet and Clank. What can I say? It's addictive.  
**

**Oh yeah, kudos to darkhorus and Onatu, who guessed correctly where I got the inspiration for the Ore Spiders in last chapter from. For those of you I didn't tell, it was actually those metal spider/bug things in the High Caves level in the Magic Crafters Homeworld (original Spyro the Dragon).**

**Thanks oodles for the reviews, everyone! ^^ Heh...oodles. What a great word. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Next should be up in a week or so. ;)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Awww, crap, I think I'm getting sick. Not cool. I don't wanna get sick. D: Glad to see Nadi's introduction last chapter went down well with you guys. Don't ya worry, I've got stuff planned with him. Sparx might be a bit OOC in this chapter... hrmm... Oh well, my excuse is that he's growing up. If that's possible for him. Enjoy!  
**

**19.**

When Roku and Nadi returned to where they had left the others, they found them accompanied by not one but three dragonflies. The familiar yellow Sparx was leaning on Spyro's horn as he always did, while the other two hovered in front of the smiling purple dragon's snout. Until he moved closer, the dragonflies looked to Roku like shimmering blobs of colour.

"Oh, you're back," Spyro said brightly, when he noticed Roku out of the corner of his eye, "These are my parents. Uh, well…Sparx's parents."

"You are our son, too, Spyro," said one of the dragonflies sternly, who was a striking blue in colour. If Roku thought it was odd for a dragon to have dragonfly parents, he didn't show it.

"It's a pleasure," the black dragon said with a respectful bow.

"Oh, dear, there's no need to be so formal!" the other dragonfly protested in soft tinkling tones. She shimmered with a mixture of pinkish-red and forest green. "Any friend of Spyro's is a friend of ours."

"This is Roku, mum, dad," Spyro said, "We only met recently, but he's been a great friend so far."

The black earth dragon shot Spyro a grateful smile. Again, Nadi hung back anxiously, slightly in awe of the purple dragon after – having gotten over his shock at finding dragons in this seemingly uninhabited swamp – realising that he was in fact _purple_. But Spyro noticed him standing there and drew the dragonflies' attention to him.

"Oh, and that's Nadi – it is Nadi, right? We only just met him today, but he helped us out, so…"

Nadi smiled uncertainly at the dragonflies, unused to dealing with talking insects. At least they seemed friendly enough. To his relief, their attention quickly turned back to the purple dragon.

"Oh, it is _good_ to see you again, Spyro," cooed the female dragonfly, "And you've got so many new friends since we last talked! Oh!"

She turned back to Roku and Nadi so swiftly they almost jumped in surprise, "You may call me Nina. And this is Flash. So sorry for not introducing ourselves."

"I-it's a pleasure," Nadi stammered, feeling as though he couldn't have run into an odder group of dragons. And then there was the matter of the panthers…

"Kazan and Flame went looking for spirit gems for Saffron," Spyro said suddenly, for he had noticed that Roku was looking around the clearing as though something was missing. Cynder and Ember were sitting on either side of Saffron, who had her head resting on her paws and appeared to be asleep. Zannak was pacing in circles in front of them, clearly restless.

"Those two?" Roku asked gruffly, frowning, "Do they not fight often enough when they are not alone?"

"Roku's got a point, Spyro!" Cynder called, "At this rate, those two won't be back til past sundown."

The purple dragon grimaced.

"I'll go myself," Roku offered suddenly, "I'll be back soon. Nadi, you should introduce yourself. We are all friends here. But do not question him, Spyro. He has had enough hardships as it is. If you wish for answers, wait for my return and I shall oblige."

Then, oblivious to Spyro's confused stare and Nadi's embarrassment, the black dragon turned and strode away into the trees for the second time that day. As the purple dragon sighed and shook his head, Cynder stood up and strode over to him. The black dragoness smiled at Nadi as she passed.

"We should thank you for helping us out earlier," she said gratefully, "Saffron could have been seriously injured if you hadn't intervened."

Nadi shook his head, "It's nothing. Is…is she ok?"

Cynder glanced back, where the yellow dragoness was still lying slumped against Ember, her injured wing splayed out, "She should be fine once we've found some spirit gems. Unfortunately, there's not much we can do for her until then to take away the pain."

Nadi hesitated for only a brief moment, "I…I might be able to help with that."

"Oh?"

"My father taught me a lot about the properties of certain plants. I might know a few remedies that could help your friend…"

Cynder eyed him with interested, "I see. Well, it would be greatly appreciated if you could. But, if I may ask, who was your father? And where did you come from? We don't see many dragons our age around these days."

"Have you heard the story of the wind dragons?" Nadi asked, but unlike Roku, Cynder shook her head. He smiled sadly. "I see. Well, your friend the black dragon should be able to tell you. But, to put it shortly, I come from a small colony of wind dragons who lived on an island far out to sea. Unfortunately, they are all gone now…"

He looked so dejected when he said these words that Cynder didn't have the heart to ask any more questions. Instead she thanked him softly once more and watched him walk over to see what he could do for Saffron. A soft nudge from Spyro broke Cynder out of her thoughts.

"Will you come with me?" he asked gently, "I'd like us to be alone when I tell my parents about you and I."

The black dragoness blushed under her scales and nodded shyly. Leaving Sparx with the others, the two dragons and two dragonflies slipped away through the trees. They found a small clearing just off from the dragonfly village, which Spyro had never been allowed into in his younger years due to his size. His dragonfly parents regarded Cynder with great interest, wondering why Spyro had pulled them away.

"Is there something troubling you, Spyro?" Nina asked anxiously. They had already been introduced to Cynder moments before, but the purple dragon had neglected to mention the exact relationship he held with the black dragoness.

"Troubling?" Spyro echoed, then smiled, "No, nothing at all. I just wanted you to meet Cynder alone. She's…a very special friend of mine. I've known her longer than anyone else, and…I couldn't dream of having anyone else by my side."

Cynder smiled shyly, leaning against Spyro fondly. The two dragonflies looked from one dragon to the other, knowing smiles spreading across their faces. Flash was the first to speak.

"Oh, I think she's a little more than a friend to you, son," he said with a gruff smile.

Nina's eyes were wide and shining when she stammered, "I-it's true, isn't it? You two are…"

Spyro couldn't hide his grin, "Yes. Cynder is everything to me."

The effect was instant. Nina's pink face turned brilliant red and she flew forward to embrace both dragons, only managing to hug the ends of their snouts. Flash just looked over Cynder with an approving eye, nodding slowly.

"You are beautiful," Nina gushed, placing her hands on either side of Cynder's muzzle and looking into her emerald eyes, "I am so happy for the both of you."

"Thank you," Cynder whispered, feeling as though her heart had just swelled to twice its size. A warm fuzziness the likes of which she had never known was spreading through her body. Was this what it was like to have parents, she wondered; to have a family who cared about you?

"Know you are always welcome here," Nina smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness, "Both of you. You are part of our family now, Cynder."

In that moment, Cynder felt as though she could have never wanted anything more.

Nadi did indeed know a few natural remedies, and thankfully the swamp provided him with everything he needed. Watched by Ember, Zannak and a half-conscious Saffron, the bronze dragon mixed up a paste consisting of luminous mushroom sap and several, odd silvery leaves that he had plucked from a small plant half hidden in the undergrowth. Crushing the leaves into a fine powder and mixing it with the sap, the others were amazed to see the concoction turn a dull reddish colour.

"Uh…you sure that's not poisonous?" Zannak asked sceptically, reluctant to let the odd paste near his injured sister.

"Trust me," Nadi insisted, "My father taught me how to make this. It'll ease the pain and stop infection."

"You know, I find it hard to trust a guy I've only just met," Zannak muttered, standing in front of his sister and eying Nadi suspiciously.

"Zannak…" Ember protested half-heartedly, but she too was eying the suspicious solution with distaste.

"Let him try it," Saffron grunted suddenly, raising herself up with some difficulty. Her wing twinged and she grimaced and lay back down again. "Can't be worse than how this feels at the moment. Besides, he did save me earlier."

Reluctantly, Zannak stepped aside and allowed Nadi to settle down beside the yellow dragoness. The bronze dragon eyes her injured wing closely, noticing that the wound had already acquired several clumps of dirt in the time it had spent on the muddy swamp ground. He looked at Saffron apologetically.

"Sorry about this, but I'm going to need to clean that wound first. Otherwise it could get infected."

"Knock yourself out," Saffron grunted, looking pointedly away as the bronze dragon began to lick the dirt from her wound. Sharp pains shot through her wing at the action, but she gritted her teeth and bore it. Zannak wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Nadi spat the dirt out as he went, feeling awkward at being in such close contact with a dragoness he barely knew. The swamp mud tasted foul, but eventually the wound was clean and fresh beads of blood crept down the membrane. Saffron kept her eyes shut tight, trying not to wince.

"Hold still," Nadi murmured, as he carefully began to apply the paste to the bleeding edges of the hole in her membrane. She hissed with pain as he did so, her wing jerking slightly. Zannak almost intervened, but Ember held him back.

"There," the wind dragon exclaimed at last, still grimacing at the taste of swamp mud and blood on his tongue, "How does it feel?"

Saffron blinked open her eyes and glanced at her wing, flexing it. To her surprise, it only twinged slightly, like an old, half-healed wound. She stared in amazement at the bronze dragon.

"Better," she said, "Much better. Thanks."

Nadi smiled, "That should do until your friend returns with those spirit gems."

Roku did return, approximately half an hour later, with a cluster of red gems held between his teeth. His assumptions about Kazan and Flame, too, turned out correct as neither returned until into well into the afternoon. By the time they did return, Saffron's wing was fully healed and everyone had become well-acquainted with Nadi. Unfortunately for them, Flame and Kazan didn't quite return alone.

"Spyro, we are in _deep_ shit!" Flame yelled as he and Kazan burst out of the trees and into the clearing, "We need to get the _hell_ out of here, and fast!"

"We found some spirit gems!" Kazan added quickly, dropping them on the ground. But then his eyes fell on the fully-healed Saffron and his expression turned utterly bemused.

"Roku already found some earlier," Spyro smiled apologetically.

"Never mind that!" Flame snarled frantically, "We need to _go_! Those _things_ are gonna catch up with us any second and when they do, we're ape shit!"

"What things?" Spyro asked, confused. But Flame never got the chance to answer, because at that moment the unearthly howl of a beast on the hunt reached them through the trees. Everyone jumped to their feet.

"Death Hounds!" Spyro gasped, the blood rushing from his face, "We gotta go!"

"Ah, Spyro!" Sparx yelled, flying in Spyro's face and frantically waving his arms, "They'll be heading straight for the dragonfly village! You can't leave them!"

Spyro froze, the sudden realisation of Sparx's words stopping him in his tracks. For a horrible moment his mind stopped working and he had no idea what to do. It was in that moment that, for the first time, Sparx took charge.

"Listen, Spyro, I know you gotta go and all, but the villagers are in danger!" he insisted, "You gotta get those things away from the village! I'll get everyone to safety, you guys deal with the hounds!"

"Sparx is right!" Cynder yelled as the yellow dragonfly zipped away, "We've got to draw the Death Hounds away from the dragonfly village! Flame! How many did you see?"

"I dunno, they just came outta nowhere!" he yelled back, "There were…I dunno, five of them!"

"Five," Cynder repeated, "Right, that's not too many. They're strong, but we can take them. We'll have to try to split them up. I've dealt with Death Hounds too many times, and they're deadly when they work together. We're going to have to pair up and take them down! Saffron, come with me!"

"Gotcha, Cyn."

"The important thing to remember is that Death Hounds can't see very well," Cynder added quickly, as the crashing of the Death Hounds through the trees increased in volume, "They rely on scent and sound to find their prey. Use that to your advantage and try to draw them away from the dragonfly village. Got it? Steady!"

The others quickly arranged themselves into pairs and crouched low to the ground, just as the hounds burst out of the trees. The gruesome creatures stopped at the edge of the clearing, saliva dripping from their fangs, sniffing for their prey. Suddenly Cynder jumped up with a yell, and Saffron followed her example. Across from them Kazan and Zannak did the same.

"Confuse them!" Cynder yelled, as Roku and Nadi joined in, roaring uproariously. The hounds, confused by the amount of noise coming from seemingly every direction, began to back up together. Flame and Ember added to the noise, and Cynder saw that the hounds were preparing to charge.

"Scatter!" She yelled loudly, and the pairs all branched off in different directions. Confused, the hounds shot off in different directions after them – all save one who charged straight for Spyro. As the others disappeared into the trees, Death Hounds on their tails, Spyro leapt up to meet the one that was left. He bunched his muscles and charged, horns colliding with the flat forehead of the beast.

But the hound was stronger than Spyro, and it easily pushed him back several feet, snarling like the wild animal it was. The purple dragon growled and dug his paws into the soft earth, pushing with all his might. Slowly but surely he began to push the Death Hound back.

But as Spyro struggled with his Death Hound, Zannak and Kazan unknowingly managed to lose theirs. Following the sound of the purple dragon's tussle, the confused Death Hound backtracked towards the clearing. Spyro didn't see or hear the hound coming – he only felt the blinding pain as it charged into his side with rib-cracking force, throwing him across the ground.

Gasping, winded and with spots of light dancing across his vision, Spyro lay prone upon the ground as the two Death Hounds advanced upon him. They were almost upon him, green saliva dripping eagerly from their fangs, when a sudden high-pitched war cry echoed through the clearing.

With a furious buzzing sound, a multicoloured cloud of _something_ surrounded the two hounds, jabbing at them with tiny sharp objects. The hounds whimpered and scrambled desperately away, trying to escape the swarm of sharp things, pawing desperately at their stinging faces. Spyro sat up groggily, and stared incredulously at the scene. He saw what the Death Hounds could not see – that buzzing cloud was formed of dragonflies.

"Nobody hurts my brother!" Sparx howled, jabbing his sharp stick hard into the eye of one of the hounds. It uttered a howl of pain and tried to turn away, but whichever way it turned it was assaulted by more of the stick-wielding, angrily buzzing dragonflies.

"Sparx, what are you doing?" Spyro yelled in alarm, terrified for his brother's safety.

"Saving you, of course!" Sparx yelled back with a wild grin, "What would you do without me?"

Then, with another wild war cry, he dove back into the fray with stick-sword swinging madly. Moments later, howling frantically, the hounds broke free of the crowd of dragonflies and fled with their tails between their legs back into the trees. Spyro waved his stick after them.

"And stay out!" he yelled, accompanied by the shouts of the dragonflies around him. Spyro stared.

"You…you…_what_?" The purple dragon stammered, utterly stunned by what he had just witnessed, "I thought you said you were getting them to safety!"

Sparx shrugged, "Yeah, but I thought you could use some help, so I changed my plans. Good thing too! You were about to become dog food!"

And that moment Flame and Ember came crashing back into the clearing in a rush.

"We wounded the hound, but it got away!" the pink dragoness cried, then fell silent upon seeing the buzzing cloud of dragonflies hovering before her, "Um…what happened?"

"I, the mighty Sparx, vanquished the Death Hounds with my own two hands!" Sparx cried dramatically, raising his stick to the air as though it was a sword. Seconds later he fled screaming behind Spyro's horn as Cynder and Saffron crashed out of the trees to join them.

"Phew!" the black dragoness gasped, "It was a close one, but we got it. It won't be hurting anyone anymore."

She too fell silent upon seeing the dragonflies.

"Did we miss something?" Saffron asked, cocking an eyebrow. Sparx peeked timidly out from behind Spyro's horn, saw it was only Saffron and Cynder, and flew back to join his brethren, laughing nervously.

"Oh yeah, you missed a heap! You didn't see me chase those two puppy dogs out of this swamp with their tails between their legs!"

Saffron glanced at Spyro, "He's joking, right?

But Spyro grinned, "For once, he's actually telling the truth. Well, sort of."

By the time Roku and Nadi returned with news that they'd managed to bring down their Death Hound, Sparx was adamant that he'd single-handedly chased the two Death Hounds out of the swamp and 'back to where they came from.' Nobody tried to correct him – they were just impressed that the dragonflies had managed to stand up to two Death Hounds at all. After much thanks from the dragonflies for helping protect their village, Spyro decided it was time they set out once more.

"We can't make the Chronicler wait for us any longer," he said to his friends, "We've spent enough time here. Now we need to go."

"We'll miss you, my son," Nina sighed, placing a hand fondly on the end of his soft snout, "But we understand that you have more important places to be, and things to do. We wish you all the luck in the world. And do take care of Sparx."

Spyro smiled gently, "I will, mum, I promise. And I'll come back soon to see you. You can count on that."

"I know I can always count on you."

"Be wise, son!" Flash called, floating proudly at the head of the swarm of dragonflies, "We all believe in you! May the sun always light your way!"

Spyro grinned. "Alright; is everyone ready to go?"

There were nods and grins of agreement all around, until Sparx suddenly spoke up. The dragonfly was rubbing his arm in a nervous sort of way, and seemed to be avoiding Spyro's eyes.

"Actually, Spyro…I kind of wanted to talk to you about that," he mumbled. Everyone stared at the yellow dragonfly, and Spyro's expression was one of utter confusion. Sparx took a deep breath and met his eyes.

"I want to stay here," he said at length, fighting to keep his voice from trembling, "With the village."

For a moment, Spyro was lost for words. Never in all his life would he have expected Sparx to say those words to him; to voluntarily separate the inseparable duo. But there was no twinkle in Sparx's eyes, nothing to suggest that he was merely joking around. He was, for once, _serious_. And that thought alone made Spyro tremble.

"Y-You're not coming with us?" he stammered at last, incredulous. Sparx's jaw tightened.

"I know you need me, and I know that wherever you go, I go…it's always been like that," he took a deep breath and looked back at his parents and the rest of the dragonfly village, "…But they need me more. Those Death Hounds are still out there, and as much as I hate to admit it there's every chance they could be back. And, with you guys gone, we won't have anyone to protect the village for us. And for them for protect their village…they're gonna need a leader. And that leader is me."

Spyro eyed him carefully, "You're sure about this, Sparx? Not long ago, you'd have never even thought of not coming with me."

"More sure than I've ever been in my life," Sparx replied, clenching his tiny hands, his face set, "They need me here, Spyro. They need a leader. And…well, you won't be going alone."

He shot a smile at Cynder and the others.

"Oh, Sparx," Cynder murmured softly, with a sad sort of smile.

"Besides," Sparx added, a little too brightly, "I didn't really want to go back to that creepy enchanted island. Too much spooky moon stuff for me. But…you take care of yourself, ok? And, Cynder, you gotta take care of him too."

"I'm…I'm gonna miss you, Sparx," Spyro stammered, his throat tight.

"Hey, don't think you've gotten rid of me forever!" Sparx protested indignantly, "As soon as you're done with the creepy old Chronicler guy, you're coming straight back here to get me! I'm sure those old hounds will be gone by then…"

Feeling slightly better, Spyro offered his dragonfly brother a grin, "It's a deal."

"Don't forget about me, bro."

"I never could."

As this was going on, Saffron had turned to the newest member of their group. Nadi still seemed a little awkward around them, but that was only natural considering he had only just met them. The yellow dragoness couldn't help but notice that, close up, his eyes looked less dull brown than brilliant ruby red. It was the sort of red that reminded her of spirit gems, rather than blood.

"I never thanked you for earlier," she said suddenly, sitting beside him, "You could have saved my life, you know… So thanks."

Nadi smiled, "It doesn't matter. Any dragon would have done the same."

"Not any dragon," Saffron replied with a grimace, thinking of Chasm with distaste. Nadi smiled nervously, and she grinned brightly again.

"So, what are you going to do?" she asked eagerly.

"I don't really know…" the wind dragon admitted awkwardly, shuffling his forepaws in the swamp moss. Saffron considered him for a moment.

"Why don't you come with us?" she suggested. He looked at her in surprise.

"Go with you?" he asked incredulously, "To…where?"

"To the Chronicler," she replied brightly, "You've heard of him, right? Everyone has. They say he lives on an enchanted island far out to sea where only those who know where it is can find it."

But at those words Nadi's spirits seemed to drop. He shook his head solemnly and replied, "I don't think so. After flying for days on end to escape my old home…I don't want to go back out to sea any time soon. And I'm so tired."

"Oh," Saffron seemed slightly disappointed, "Well, why not head for Warfang instead? It's only half a day's flight to the mainland from here, though it'll probably take you a day to reach Warfang. I'm sure you'll be welcome there."

"Yes, that is what Roku suggested. But I could use a rest before I head out once more…"

"You're always welcome to stay here," Nina piped up suddenly, to Nadi's surprise. She smiled fondly at him. "You helped us fight off those horrible beasts, and any friend of Spyro's is always welcome here. Why don't you stay for a few days?"

"I-I can?" the wind dragon stammered, embarrassed, "I don't know what to say…"

"Then don't say anything, dear," Nina smiled, "Our home is your home."

"So it's settled then," Spyro spoke up suddenly, "We might see you again, Nadi, either here or at Warfang. Have patience with Sparx, he can get a little annoying."

"Hey!"

"And don't worry," Cynder added with a fond smile at the dragonfly, "We'll be back before you know it."

A feeble afternoon sun peeked hesitantly through thin greying clouds at the great city of Warfang far below. The bitingly cool breeze nipped at the fur-covered limbs of the four felines making their way towards the southern gate. The female cheetah of the group shielded her eyes from the glaring light that reflected from the pale clouds as she gazed upwards at the high walls of the Dragon City.

Her eager gasp of amazement cut shrilly through the air, followed by an exclamation of, "It's huge!"

"Yeah…" her dark-furred companion agreed, much less eagerly, a look on her face that suggested she was trying to suppress fear at the sight of the city. "Huge."

"Don't be so anxious, Terra," the female cheetah pleaded, "I'm sure the dragons are…nice. I've met a few before…they seemed ok."

"The dragons are a respectable race," interrupted the male cheetah walking behind them, "They should be more accepting than Chief Prowlus. In fact, I'd be shocked if they weren't."

Tight-jawed and trembling, Terra made no reply as they approached the massive wooden doors in the southern wall. Hunter raised one paw and knocked three times on the smooth, polished wood. For a few moments nothing happened and, thinking no one had heard, Hunter raised his paw to try again. But no sooner had he set knuckles to wood did a small, furry head poke out over the parapets above the gate.

"Who's a'knockin'?" called the curious voice of the gatekeeper mole, peering through heavy goggles down at the felines. His tiny fingers fiddled with the rim of his goggles – which, unknown to the cheetahs, assisted his poor eyesight – adjusting the focus of the slightly grubby lenses. As Hunter and the others came into focus, the mole's furry face broke out into a whiskery grin.

"Jus' wait right there, cap'n Hunter, sir," he called down, "I'll 'ave this gate open in a jiffy."

It still amazed Hunter that, lately, everyone in Warfang seemed to know who he was. Captain Hunter, head of the cheetah warriors, Chief Prowlus's second in command – or, as the mole's so fondly put it, the Much Nicer Head of the Cheetahs. It was no secret that Chief Prowlus was not popular among many of the citizens.

The wooden door creaked inwards slowly, scraping on cobblestoned ground, and the four felines strode into the city. Hunter called his thanks to the gatekeeper, who saluted him sharply as he fiddled again with his goggles. Then, keeping Terra between himself and Cougar, he led his small entourage into the streets.

Mari gazed in awe at the golden stone buildings that rose from the streets like bizarre plants, as fluid and natural as though Mother Nature herself had built them. The faces of colourful dragons and fuzzy moles peered out of windows, and others scampered by in the streets, stopping occasionally to stare at Captain Hunter and his companions. Mari tried to wave to them all, and her smile was so bright and infectious that most smiled and waved back at her.

Terra, on the other hand, seemed to wilt under the suspicious stares that followed her whenever the civilians in the streets noticed her pitch-black fur. She wished it was Mari walking beside her, rather than the stiff, silent males who somehow acted like both bodyguards and prison wardens at the same time. But even she, who had not had a chance to observe the city itself during the battle, could not help but admire the architecture.

All too soon the group reached the large, oddly shaped building that was the guardians' quarters. Telling Terra to stay put and not try anything, to which she just looked dismally worried, Hunter stepped forward to knock on the ornately carved door. Within seconds of his third knock, the polished wood sprung back with such force that Hunter almost jumped back. He found himself staring into the always-excitable blue eyes of the electric guardian.

"Guests! Visitors! Sojouners!" Volteer cried and, upon recognising Hunter, proceeded to welcome him inside, "Ah, Hunter, do come in, sit down, make yourself at home. 'Tis marvellous, wonderful to see you here in our city once more. There is much to be said, much information to be shared, many hypotheses to be suggested. I believe the panthers…"

"Thank you, Volteer," Hunter cut in, before the guardian could ramble on for too long, "If you could please find the other guardians for me, it would be appreciated. We have a very interesting development that needs discussion."

He glanced behind at Terra as he spoke, and in that split second Volteer caught sight of the nervous pantheress. His excited eyes widened, and words rattled off his tongue without stop.

"Incredible! Most outstanding! To have a living panther standing right here at the threshold of my quarters! Most unexpected, simply astonishing! I shall fetch the other guardians immediately, er, right away! Oh yes, they will be most intrigued, highly astounded, simply dumbfounded…!"

And, still with rapid words spilling from his lips, Volteer turned and made his way up the stairs to, assumedly, find the other guardians. When he and his mutterings had disappeared down the second story corridor, Hunter ushered his companions inside. The three of them milled about uncertainly at the edge of the lush, embroidered red carpet in the centre of the room, gazing curiously around at the ornate decorations.

Hunter – who had been here several times and was therefore much more at ease – shrugged off his cloak and draped it over the stone fireplace against the wall. His bow and quiver of arrows, however, stayed slung over his shoulder. He stood to attention beside the fireplace, waiting patiently for the guardians to join them.

Mari quickly found the gold dragons embroidered into the lush circular carpet, and eagerly pointed them out to Terra. But the pantheress was also gazing nervously at the stairs, waiting for what she couldn't help but consider as her doom to join them, and hardly noticed Mari's eagerness. They didn't have to wait for long, as only minutes later there came a thundering of heavy pawsteps above them that signalled the arrival of the guardians. Sure enough, within moments, a large green dragon had appeared at the stop of the stairs.

"Yes, Volteer, so you have already said," the dragon was saying to the yellow guardian who lingered close behind him. Though his gruff, slow voice reminded Terra of deep, calm water – and was somehow soothing to her nerves – it sounded as though his patience had reached the end of its tether.

"About ten times, I might add," piped up a particularly snobbish voice from somewhere behind the yellow guardian, "Do cease your intolerable blabbering, Volteer, it leaves even the most _patient_ of us feeling most irritable."

"A quality of which you are surely, definitely, unarguably lacking beyond any foreseen sense of the word," Volteer shot back with an offended huff.

"I find my levels of patience quite strained when I am subjected to the unceasing ramblings of your ever-wagging tongue, Volteer."

"Similarly, I find that my levels of aptitude have a propensity to suffer when I linger too long around your obnoxious aura."

"Cease your argument, Cyril, Volteer," Terrador ordered calmly, his gaze suddenly fallen on the pantheress who stood in the centre of the room below, "We are among guests."

As the electric and ice guardians fell silent, Terra watched the four old dragons make their way down the stairs to stand before her. Absently, she inched closer to Mari, who was staring at the guardians with a kind of awe. Had she not been terrified of their reaction towards her, Terra might have found the sight of their colourful, gem-like scales to be both pleasing and intriguing. The first thing she _did_ notice was the change in their expressions upon noticing her.

The frosty blue guardian regarded her with a disdainful air, as though she was merely a mud stain on a precious article of some sort. Beside him, the yellow guardian that had greeted them first was staring at her with what could only be excitement. A stare of polite curiosity reached her from the kind, weathered face of the orange guardian, and Terra sensed no hostility from him.

But her attention was quickly drawn to and held by the fourth guardian – a massive, emerald green beast with heavy paws that looked as though they could effortlessly crush bone. His sharp, stern gaze was filled with both interest and distrust, and it held her like a rat in a cage, wilting in fear. The battle scars that marred his scales told Terra that this was a beast of war, one who had lived through many harsh battles and still stood tall to tell the tales. Any bravery she had been holding on to was quelled under his piercing gaze.

"Hunter, who is this?" the earth guardian asked calmly, his eyes never leaving the trembling form of the pantheress.

"Her name is Terra," Hunter replied, "She is the reason we are here. She holds information that I believe you will be interested to hear…"

Mari soundlessly reached for Terra's paw, and felt it tighten around her own. Terrador did not miss the subtle movement and, though Terra did not notice, his eyes softened just a bit.

"I see," the guardian murmured to Hunter's words, and then spoke to the panther, "Tell me, young panther, do you come here as friend or as foe?"

For a short, nerve-wracking moment, Terra thought she had lost her voice. But Mari squeezed her paw tightly, and she found her courage hiding in a dark, almost forgotten corner of her heart.

"A-a friend," the pantheress stammered at last, her voice cracking with nerves, "I'm a friend."

Terrador's eyes softened just a bit more, but Cyril uttered a disdainful snort and muttered, "I do find that difficult to believe."

"Give her a chance, Cyril," Thasos said calmly, his soft brown eyes settled on the panther, "She is frightened and unsure of herself."

"So she should be," the ice guardian grumbled, "That one of those barbaric panthers would dare show her face here…"

"Enough, Cyril," Terrador boomed, and the ice guardian quickly fell silent. Terra swallowed nervously. "What information can you offer us, young one?"

Nervously, Terra gaped soundlessly several times before she found her voice again, "In-information…on the panth- my tribe. Their plans."

Terrador's eyes darkened briefly, "I see. In that case…what do you think?

The question was aimed at the other three guardians, and Cyril was the only one who didn't stop to think before he gave his answer.

"The girl is obviously lying," he claimed frostily, glaring at her, "No panther can be trusted."

"I believe we should hear her out," Thasos said tiredly, "Her information could prove valuable, and I believe in giving everyone a chance, no matter their species."

"Volteer?"

"Yes, Thasos is right, her insight into the tactics of our adversary could prove to be undeniably useful. We ought to heed what she has to say."

Terrador nodded slowly, "I agree with Volteer, but I also think that this may require more than just the opinion of we guardians."

"What do you suggest, Terrador?" Cyril asked sniffily, annoyed that his opinion had been overridden.

Terra waited for the earth guardian's answer with baited breath. She didn't have to wait for long.

"I believe this matter should be taken up with the council."

As the Council of Avalar gathered in the Atrium, a young black and white dragon was running haphazardly through the streets of Warfang. He shouted a cheerful greeting to whoever he passed, almost crashing into a pair of moles when he turned his head to call out to a group of dragons his own age. Laughing an apology, he skipped around the moles and hurried on.

The infirmary was an odd place for a perfectly healthy young dragon to go on such a day, but this dragon was on a mission. He skidded around an older green dragoness with a shouted apology, ignoring her yelp of fright, and ran through the doors into the infirmary. Dodging around the few moles in the corridors, he made his way through the building as though he had memorised the entire layout.

Without breaking his stride, he shouldered through a door, tripped, and landed sprawled inside a small room.

"Domino!" Zephira gasped, sitting up on her bed of cushions, recognising Roku's little brother immediately by his odd splotchy scales. Beside her, a smaller, sightless white dragoness frowned, confused by the racket.

Domino giggled and jumped up, none the worse for his unexpected tumble, "Hiya, Zeph!"

"Who is it?" the sightless, white dragoness whispered to the bemused Zephira. She jumped, as though she had forgotten her guest was there.

"Oh, Myst…I forgot you can't see," she murmured regretfully, "It's Domino. We met him at Ethra. He's a friend."

Myst nodded slowly, wishing once again that she had her eyesight back, if only to see what this Domino looked like. She had spent the last few days by Zephira's side, ever since Saffron and the others had left. Their days were spent wistfully swapping tales of better times; their nights spent curled up together, dreaming of brighter days. But in each others' company, the two scarred dragoness had once more found their smiles.

"Why are you here?" Zephira asked Domino politely, confused by his sudden appearance. The younger dragon grinned brightly.

"Roku's not here anymore – I can't believe he left me behind," a pout formed on his lips, but before Zephira had a chance to offer any words of comfort, he had brightened up again, "So I came to see you! You know, Roku talked about you a lot after we met you. He said he wanted to get to know you better."

"Did he…?" Zephira mumbled, blushing at the thought. Domino didn't seem to notice.

"But now that he's not here, I thought I'd do it for him!" he continued brightly, beaming like the midday sun. Zephira considered the cheerful dragon, noticing that his emerald eyes were the exact colour and shape as his older brother's. She smiled.

"That sounds like a great idea, Domino," she murmured, suddenly feeling warm and fuzzy inside, "The moles told me this morning that Myst and I should be able to leave the infirmary sometime within the next few days. I'm sure we can all play together then."

"Play…?" Myst mumbled quietly and, as though he had just noticed her, Domino stared.

"Yeah, play!" he exclaimed, bouncing over to her like an excited rabbit. But her expression was bemused, and his face fell in confusion. "What? You…don't know what play is?"

Myst could not see the confused concern on Domino's face, but she heard it in his voice and answered with a shy shake of her head. Domino looked stumped. He sat down with a bump and stared at the small white dragoness, who could not have been many years younger than him, eyes lingering on the scars that marred her colourless scales. But it was her tightly shut eyelids that intrigued him the most. It looked as though they would never open – but that, he thought, was ridiculous.

All eyes opened.

While he tried to think of a way to describe what play was, he asked, "Why don't you open your eyes? You can't see anything like that."

Zephira winced. It was an innocent question from an innocently naïve dragon, but she worried how Myst would react to it and wondered if she should try to explain it to the young dragon. "Domino…"

"I can't," Myst said suddenly, stopping Zephira before she could get another word in, "My eyes won't open anymore."

Domino stared, bemused, "But…why? You can't see when they're shut. Why don't they open?"

"It was an accident, Domino," Zephira tried to say, but Myst cut her off once again.

"They were hurt," she said sadly, her face pointed somewhere to the left of Domino, "The moles said the panthers did it – they hurt my eyes. Now they won't open and I won't ever be able to see again."

Domino was aghast, "But…but can't they fix it? You can't just…_not_ see! That isn't fair!"

"Not all things in life are fair, Domino," Zephira sighed, and this time Myst didn't interrupt, "Sometimes, bad things just happen. And, even though we can't change what happened, we can still move on. We can still do the best we can. I'm sure…I'm sure that's what Ciro would say."

Domino's shoulders fell. Roku had told him about Zephira's brother the night after the attack on Warfang. He was young, but Domino understood the concept of life and death. He knew that, like his parents, Ciro was never going to come back. And that thought, though he had hardly known the ice dragon, made him sad – sad because he didn't believe that any dragon should have to go away and never come back; sad because he knew the same thing had happened to his parents long ago, and so he would never know them.

"But we can still play together!" Domino cried out suddenly, making both dragonesses jump, "Even if you can't see, we can still play!"

"Play…" Myst mumbled again. She had heard the word before, but she had never bothered to make sense of what it was. As a hatchling hidden away in the underground caverns, she had never really made any friends – her days had been spent teaching herself to fly and to manipulate the wind. Even upon coming to Warfang, things had not been different.

"Play is…is…" Domino hesitated, frowning as he tried to find the right words.

"When you have fun together," Zephira finished for him, and Myst turned her face towards her.

"Oh, like what we do every day?" Myst asked curiously, recalling the hours spent sitting in this room, recalling long ago memories together with the older wind dragoness.

"Well, not quite," Zephira smiled, "But close."

At that moment there came a soft knock upon the door, and the head of a green dragoness poked into the room. She blushed upon seeing that Zephira already had company, but the wind dragoness beckoned her in before she had a chance to apologize and back away. Shyly, the earth dragoness stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a gentle flick of her tail.

"Hello, Nalu," said Zephira, who had become accustomed to Nalu's regular visits ever since the incident.

"Oh, Zephira, I'm sorry to interrupt you," the green dragoness murmured nervously, glancing at Domino and Mist – the former of whom was staring curiously at her.

"It's fine," Zephira shook her head, "I like it when you come to see me. I'm sure Myst does too. This is Domino. Roku – do you remember the black dragon who was with Spyro? – is his older brother."

"Oh," Nalu smiled shyly at the splotchy-scaled dragon, "it's nice to meet you. A-anyway, I came to tell you…there's a rumour going around the city at the moment."

"A rumour?"

"They're saying there's a panther in the city."

Zephira was on her feet in an instant, almost sending one of her cushions skittering across the room in her haste. Though Myst could not see the action, she was close enough to feel it and raised her head in alarm. She knew that several of Zephira's deeper wounds had yet to fully heal.

"Z-Zeph, careful!"

"Do the guardians know?" Zephira demanded frantically, ignoring Myst, "Have they done anything about it?"

Nalu looked anxious, "C-Calm down, it's alright. They're saying that Captain Hunter brought the panther here, and that he took her to see the guardians."

"Her?" Zephira echoed blankly.

"Apparently it's a girl…" Nalu mumbled, then shook her head roughly, "Anyway, I heard there's a council meeting going on at the Atrium right now. They must be deciding what to do with the panther."

Zephira frowned, "I don't understand…is she a prisoner? Did the cheetahs capture her during the battle? By why would they only bring her now, if that was the case…?"

Nalu shook her head again, "I don't know, but I thought you might want to know…"

"Ooh, ooh, we should go listen to the meeting!" Domino piped up brightly, to everyone's surprise.

Zephira stared incredulously at him, "What? But only the council is allowed in the atrium when there is a serious meeting. We can't do that."

"So what?" Domino pouted, "We _always_ listened in when Master Selador was talking to Roku or one of the other older dragons – even when she didn't want us to!"

"You want to spy on the council?" Zephira gasped, aghast. Domino seemed excited by the prospect.

"Yeah!"

"I don't know if that's a good idea…" Myst mumbled.

"Come _on_! Let's do it!"

"We'd get in terrible trouble if they caught us," Nalu added anxiously.

"_Zeph_-raaaaa!"

But, as though the spirit of her brother had suddenly risen from somewhere deep inside her, Zephira felt a powerful recklessness sweep through her body. A rogue grin, so unlike her usual shy smiles, broke out on her face. Suddenly, the idea of breaking the rules was more inviting that it had ever been before.

"Yeah," she said bravely, "Let's do it."

Myst seemed uncertain, but Nalu was absolutely incredulous.

"You _can't_," she insisted as Zephira made for the door with Domino skipping at her heels, "What would the guardians think? What if they _find_ us? Oh, think of the punishment they'd give us!"

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Zephira replied, suddenly feeling more like her brother than herself and loving the feel of adrenaline running through her veins, "I won't make you. Same to you, Myst."

"N-no, I want to come," Myst stammered, standing up quickly. She hadn't left Zephira's side for the past two days, and wasn't about to do so any time soon – no matter what rules the wind dragoness planned on breaking.

"Let'sgolet'sgolet'sgo!" Domino chanted, skipping around Zephira in circles and making himself dizzy.

"But…but!" Nalu stammered, mouth open, unable to find the words to dissuade the white dragoness. Smiling apologetically, Zephira opened the door and stepped out. Domino and Myst followed; the latter not quite as excited.

"Oh," Nalu moaned, plodding reluctantly after them, "We are going to be in _so_ much trouble."

The four snuck out of the infirmary without any trouble, telling the one mole they came across that they were merely heading out for a walk – which was not an uncommon occurrence. But as soon as they were outside, the young dragons made a beeline for the Atrium. Nalu remained highly on edge.

"M-Maybe we should take the back alleys so no one gets suspicious?" she suggested timidly as they walked.

"There's nothing suspicious about a group of friends out for a walk on a nice" – Zephira glanced up at the clouded sky – "…not-so-sunny day. Don't worry, Nalu."

But Nalu worried. She continued to worry until the Atrium was in sight, which was when she started to panic.

"Look, we really shouldn't do this," she pleaded, "Think of how much trouble we'll be in if they catch us! Zephira, _please_!"

"She did say you didn't have to come," Myst murmured quietly, and Nalu blushed furiously.

"You can just wait for us out here if you want," Zephira told the green dragoness, "But we're going in…if we can find a way in without being seen, that is."

"And _how_ are you going to do _that_?"

Zephira didn't really know. But she did know that, like most of the oldest buildings in Warfang, the Atrium probably had its own secret passages and rooms. The Academy had, back in the old days – and she had heard rumours that the moles hadn't gotten rid of those secret passages when they rebuilt it a few months back. But the problem was _finding_ these secret passages. Not to mention they only had so long until the meeting finished.

"We'll find a way," Zephira replied, "Won't we, Domino?"

"Yeah!"

"Fine!" Nalu gasped, exasperated, "Fine. I'll stay here and wait for you. But don't blame me when you get caught! And if you do get caught…tell them I tried to stop you, won't you?"

With a parting wave of her tail, Zephira strode away with Domino and Myst on either side. Nalu watched them go reluctantly, and sat down with a bump at the mouth of a nearby alleyway. It had never occurred to her that Zephira was anything like her brother. Clearly, she had been proved wrong.

"We can't use the main entrance," Zephira mused as they lingered by the massive doors into the Atrium, "That would be too obvious."

She glanced nervously behind her, but no one was paying her even the slightest attention – except the green dragoness staring anxiously at her from the dark mouth of an alley. Myst stayed close to her side, as she always did whenever they went for a walk. After all, Zephira was her eyes now that her own had failed her. She could hear Domino skipping excitedly around them, and wished she could do something to help the older dragoness.

"What other entrances are there?" Myst asked quietly. If she concentrated hard, she could almost remember what the Atrium looked like – a great circular building with huge brass doors and a curving domed roof.

"Let's go take a look, shall we?"

With Myst still tucked close to her side, Zephira began a slow walk around the tall walls of the Atrium. She tried to keep track of every small detail she notice, every nook and cranny, though the excitable Domino was little help. Myst, who knew that she was no help in this particular instance, instead tried to focus on the excited, bouncing dragon.

"Domino," she said shyly, as Zephira stopped to examine an off-coloured stone in the Atrium wall, "Can…can you tell me what you look like?"

Domino stopped bouncing and thought hard, thrown off by the question. It was certainly not a question he'd ever been asked before.

"Well…I've got black and white scales," he said slowly, thinking.

"Black _and_ white?"

"Yeah! It's like…splotches!" he frowned again, "I've never seen another dragon with scales like mine."

"What about your eyes?"

"They're green," Domino told her brightly, "Like my brother. And my horns are kinda like his, too. Except his curve upward and mine curve down. They're, um, white."

Myst smiled gently, "I see. You sound like you really admire your brother."

"Roku's the best dragon in the world! Wait till you meet him…"

A dull rumbling sound caught their ears and both younglings spun around in alarm. Myst couldn't see what was going on, but she heard Zephira gasp and Domino yell in amazement.

"_Cool_!"

"What? What is it?" Myst asked frantically, swinging her head to and fro, "What happened?"

"A-A passageway," Zephira stammered, sounding stunned, "it opened up in the wall."

The wind dragoness had thought the oddly coloured stone in the wall had looked suspicious. But she hadn't expected a whole section of the wall to slide into the ground when she pressed the odd stone with a paw. Now she stood staring into a small, dark passageway that seemed to lead forever into blackness. It wasn't nearly big enough for a full grown dragon, but a slight dragoness like her would have no trouble. Still, she regarded the passageway with some trepidation.

"Come on, let's go!" Domino insisted, excitement causing his small body to tremble. Zephira noticed that he didn't seem at all afraid of the dark tunnel.

"Where does it lead?" Myst asked in a hushed voice.

"I don't know," Zephira murmured back, peering into the passage, "All I can see is darkness."

She hesitated; maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. But, before she could stop him, Domino had already skipped into the passageway and all but disappeared. She called after him as loud as she dared, and his emerald eyes peered inquisitorially out of the gloom.

"Are you coming?" he asked eagerly, completely oblivious to Zephira's reluctance.

"Zephira?" Myst asked hesitantly.

"I…I suppose so," the white dragoness murmured and, glancing behind her to make sure no one was watching, slipped into the darkness of the tunnel with Myst tucked under her wing.

It was dark and dusty inside the tunnel, with old cobwebs hanging from the low stone roof. Zephira ducked her head to avoid them, musing that this tunnel had likely not been used for many years. She wondered how many dragons in the city knew about it and assumed, not many. Beside her, Myst trembled slightly.

"I don't like it in here," she whispered, voice echoing in the darkness, "It's hard to breath."

"I know," Zephira whispered back soothingly, "But it won't be for long. I'm sure of it."

But she wasn't sure of it. Zephira had no idea where this tunnel led, and the Atrium was a very big building. She could hear Domino's claws clacking on stone as he skipped cheerfully ahead, and wished she could be as carefree as him. But the cobwebs, the dust, and the dark enclosed space all set her nerves on edge and she was started to regret her decision. She wished she was out in the sun with Nalu again.

A tiny black beetle of some sort scuttled over her forepaw and she almost screamed, but managed to hold it back. Swallowing her nerves, Zephira followed the sound of Domino running through the darkness, glad of Myst's company beside her. Quite suddenly, just as she was starting to feel claustrophobic, the tunnel opened out into a small chamber. A single torch burned on the far wall, illuminating dusty stone and old cobwebs. To her left, a stone stairwell led up into darkness.

"Who put this torch here?" Zephira wondered allowed, moving to Domino's side, "And who keeps it alight?"

"Dunno," Domino shrugged, "but let's keep going!"

Eagerly, he began to climb the stairs without waiting for Zephira's response. She grimaced and led Myst over to the stairwell, away from the burning torch. The blind dragoness could hear the crackle of the flames and feel its heat, and found it strangely comforting after the dark tunnel.

"There's a stairwell here, Myst," Zephira told her softly, "Do you think you can manage?"

Myst nodded slowly and together the two dragonesses began a slow climb up into darkness. It didn't take them as long to reach the top of the stairs as it had to reach the chamber from outside the Atrium. Zephira found Domino standing on the final step, staring ahead as though frozen in time. She approached him with a concerned frown on her face.

"Domino?"

"It's…_wow_," he gasped, and at that moment Zephira noticed their surroundings.

The room they were in was huge – as large as the Atrium was round – and both the floor and roof were curved into domes. But, most amazing to the eyes of the young dragons was the multitude of colours that filled the space. Light crept from tiny holes dotted in the high dome roof, and bounced off the curving stained glass beneath their paws, filling the entire room with brilliant colours. As Zephira crept forward to examine the stained glass floor, she realised with a jolt where they were.

"We're in the roof of the Atrium!" she gasped, her voice as hushed as possible, "The painting on the ceiling…it's not a painting at all, it's coloured glass! I can't believe I never noticed…"

But, in her defence, Zephira had not visited the Atrium many times before. The guardians, however, were quite aware that their roof was one giant circle of stained glass. They also knew of the attic – where Zephira, Myst and Domino currently were – but it had not seen visitors in a very long time.

"We'll have to be very quiet," Zephira whispered, "The council is directly below us."

Both young dragons nodded soundlessly. The upward curve of the floor was shallow, and they found in easy enough to crawl on their bellies to the centre of the stained glass. There, a tiny hole in the glass gave them a pinhole size view of the Atrium below. But, though they couldn't see what was happening below, they could hear.

"…til her information can be proved correct, I would suggest allowing her to stay here in the city," the voice that floated up to the three attic listeners was not one that Zephira was familiar with. She assumed it was one of the council. It was, in fact, Terrunda – female earth dragon and part of the council. "She seems harmless, Master Terrador."

"I agree, Terrunda," answered Terrador's deep, booming voice that easily filled the entire room, "If her information is indeed the truth, it will be very valuable to us. I can see no reason for us not to believe what has been said. Were this information false, I fail to see how it would benefit the panthers for us to know of it."

"Unless, of course, the panthers plan instead on attacking Avalar while we prepare foolishly for them to attack our city," added Cyril. He sounded irritable, Zephira thought.

"Perhaps," Terrador replied, "but I spoke to the leader of the panther tribe myself, and I am sure that he and his brethren will not dare strike Avalar while we continue to defend it. Nevertheless, I suggest dispatching several of your guards, Seriphos, to protect Avalar. Do you agree, Hunter?"

"Prowlus may not find it…agreeable," this time Hunter's calm voice reached the ears of the eavesdroppers, "However; I agree that it is necessary to protect our village. Were the panthers to bypass Warfang and attack Avalar, the assistance of your guards would be greatly helpful."

"Of course, Hunter," Seriphos's voice replied, "I shall inform my guards immediately."

"Meanwhile," said an old, rasping voice that Zephira recognised as the old fire elder Ryokku, "we must decide upon our own course of action. How are we to protect Warfang against this threat?"

"I want guards patrolling the walls," Terrador replied grimly, "and all able citizens should prepare themselves for war. Combat classes at the academy will be increased – the young dragons must be able to defend themselves in case of the worst. Do you agree?"

"An intellectual resolution, Terrador," Volteer agreed quickly, "I agree wholeheartedly. The young dragons will require to ability to defend and fight against our adversary should worse come to worse."

"Yes. And no one must leave the city without permission from the guardians," Ryokku wheezed, "it's far too dangerous."

"And what of the young pantheress?" murmured an equally old voice that Zephira knew well. She smiled fondly – Mother Seak had always been like a second mother to her.

"She will be supplied with a room here in Warfang," Terrador said, "I would suggest young Mari should share that room with her. Captain Hunter, do you agree? They are your charges, after all."

"I agree," Hunter replied, "On the condition that Cougar and I be given a room close by, just in case. I want to keep an eye on her."

"So be it. Do you have anything more to add, Terra?"

The voice that answered next was once that Zephira had never heard before. She tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker through the tiny hole in the stained glass, but failed to do so.

"N-No, sir. Thank you for this opportunity. I am sorry for causing you such trouble."

"Nay, young one," Mother Seak wheezed, so quietly that Zephira had to strain to hear, "You have been very helpful. It is we who should be thanking you. You are a credit to your race and a reminder than not all panthers are our enemies."

Zephira drew breath in sharply. _The panther was in the room below her_. She had heard her speak. A creature of the same race that had ruthlessly murdered her brother was so close she could almost touch her. An odd buzzing sound filled her head, and she heard nothing more of what was said in the room below until Myst shook her out of her trance.

"They're leaving," the blind dragoness whispered, "We should go."

"Oh," Zephira murmured, feeling oddly disorientated. In a sort of half trance, she allowed Domino to lead her and Myst out of the attic, down the stairs, and back through the tunnel to the outside world. The secret door groaned shut behind them, as though it had been waiting for them all along.

Despite Nalu's questioning, Zephira's head was so full of thoughts that she said nothing at all. They made it back to the infirmary without incident, though the green dragoness was both concerned and confused by the wind dragoness's silence. She and Domino left the infirmary shortly before sundown, leaving the two white dragonesses alone once more.

That night Zephira sat awake, Myst curled against her side, her head buzzing with confusing, half-formed thoughts.

The twin moons reflected off the dark, endless expanse of water as eight dragons glided serenely across the night sky. It was nearing midnight, and the group had been flying for hours with nothing to look at but endless waves and odd rock formations that rose like leviathans out of the ocean. How Spyro knew the way, none of them were certain – but they followed him nonetheless, trusting he would get them to their destination eventually.

One by one they were starting to become sleepy, dozing off in the sky only to wake up sharply as they began to fall. The sound of the ocean below them was both haunting and relaxing, and did little to keep their tired minds awake. Saffron kept herself alert by trying to count the stars, but she kept losing count and was soon drifting off like the others.

"We can't go on like this, Spyro," Cynder pleaded tiredly as she soared alongside the purple dragon, "At this rate we'll all find ourselves asleep at the bottom of the ocean. We need to find somewhere to spend the night."

But Spyro shook his head stubbornly, repeating, "No, we're almost there. I'm sure of it."

"You said that an hour ago," Cynder sighed, her eyelids drooping even as she forced them to stay open, "Come on, Spyro, just let us rest."

"Where, Cynder?"

The black dragoness grimaced. She knew he was right – the last rocky island they had passed had been over an hour ago, and they had seen no sign of land ever since. There was nothing but dark water below them, nowhere for a group of tired dragons to spend the night. Dejectedly, she did not reply, beating her wings tiredly to stay aloft.

"We'll be there soon, Cynder," Spyro promised her, though a part of him didn't believe it himself, "Don't worry."

But she did. And he was wrong.

They flew for at least another half hour before anything changed. Roku was the first to see it, perhaps because he was the most awake of the group. Beating his wings to catch up with Spyro, he pointed a dark-scaled paw towards the undulating war below.

"Look," he murmured, "it's a leviathan."

Spyro looked. Below him, gliding effortlessly through the water like he did through the sky, was a massive, shelled sea creature. Its eight slender flippers slid through the water almost without sound, and the green shell upon its back was so huge it looked more like a small island than a living creature. Spyro felt a relieved smile break onto his face at the sight of the leviathan – or 'freaky turtle monster' as Sparx would have called it.

"We must be nearly there," he told Roku tiredly, "The last time I was summoned to the White Isle, it was a leviathan that carried me a lot of the way."

"Whoa!" yelled Zannak from somewhere behind him, "What the heck is that thing? It's like a giant turtle…with a heck of a lot more legs!"

Evidently he had just spotted the leviathan, and hadn't heard the brief conversation between Roku and Spyro ahead.

"They're called flippers, smartass," Saffron muttered, "and it's not a turtle; it's a leviathan."

"A levi-what?"

"You really do never listen in class."

"I have better things to do in class. Like catch up on sleep."

"They're harmless, right?" Kazan cut in warily, eying the huge creature below them.

"Yes, Kazan," Saffron replied exasperatedly, "Unless you expect it to suddenly grow wings and fly up here and eat you. Even if it could, they're vegetarians."

"They're what?"

"_Honestly_. They don't eat meat."

"Why wouldn't you eat meat?" Zannak cut in, "Meat is awesome!"

"_Idiots_."

"Hey, it's disappearing," Kazan exclaimed suddenly, and everyone looked down at the leviathan again. With several powerful beats of his multiple flippers, it dived deep into the dark depths of the ocean and disappeared below the waves. Spyro was almost sad to see it go.

But at that moment all playful banter was forgotten, because a very odd feeling had just swept over the group of dragons. It was an indescribable feeling, and most definitely not one that any of them had ever felt before – no one except for Spyro, who had felt this feeling several times within his dreams and had never forgotten how it felt.

"Does…does anyone else get the odd feeling we're…not in this realm anymore?" Saffron asked hesitantly, aware of just how ridiculous that sounded.

"Normally, I'd say you're insane," said Zannak, "But I feel it too."

"Ah! Look!" Ember cried out suddenly, to everyone's alarm. But then they saw what she had seen, and alarm was replaced by utter awe.

"Wh-What is this place?" Saffron stammered, her jaw hanging open and the sky reflected in her eyes.

Above them, in the previously clear night sky, weaved ribbons of multicoloured light, spreading and undulating like unbroken waves in the heavens. They reflected on the calm surface of the dark water below them, and in the wide eyes of the amazed dragons. Tall spires of rock rose from the ocean, reaching towards the undulating skies like deserted towers or massive stalagmites.

And then, rising from the horizon as though it had been waiting for them all along, was a colossal, sprawling island of sheer cliffs and spires of rock reaching upwards to the colourful ribbons of light in the sky. A sense of familiarity swashed over Spyro, and he let out a relieved sigh.

"We made it," he called back, "We made it to the White Isle."

**A/N: *sobbing*** **We finally made it! Finally! Man...and here I thought we'd never get there. Celestial Caves stuff next time! And Skelos, 'cause we haven't seen what he's been up to for a bit. Skulk's gonna drop off the radar for bit, but he'll be back soon enough. Also, woo, Zephira! Felt like she needed a scene. As before, the adorable Myst belongs to GoldenGriffiness. It still amazes me how well she fits into this story.**

**Thank you my lovely reviewers, may you continue to be awesome! Thanks for reading everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next one feels like it's going to be long, but it's over halfway done now.**

**Anyway, if you haven't already, go check out my new story 'Spirit Gems', which is a series of very short oneshots (not related to RD and ToaO). Think I'll go update it now, actually...**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: 20 chapters. 400 reviews. Insanity. I love you guys. And I think we're finally halfway through this story! *celebrates* Enjoy~!  
**

**20.**

The concept of day and night did not exist at the White Isle, which was why, when the dragons finally awoke, they found the sky as dark as it had been when they had first landed. But, despite the lack of sun, there was no lack of light. The water lapping at the base of the cliffs was a striking, electric blue in colour, like that of spirit gems, and it glowed with an ethereal sheen. Ribbons of light still weaved overhead, undulating in the dark sky.

The dragons took several long minutes to admire their eerie surroundings, curiously noting the temple-like structures that rose from the waves around the island. They too seemed to hold an ethereal glow, despite looking as though they had been built over a thousand years previously. Spindly, leafless trees grew around the lip of the cliff, threatening to crumble and fall down the sheer rock face to the sea below at any moment.

"This place doesn't feel real," Ember murmured in a hushed voice. Her scales prickled with a strange electric feeling and she wondered if the others felt it too.

"How long have we been asleep?" Kazan wondered allowed, pacing around the rim of the cliff and craning his head to the sky, "It's still dark…but it was dark when we got here."

"It's always dark here," Spyro replied quietly, his voice hushed with respect as though the island itself was listening to him. Everyone else eyed him uneasily. Silently, he turned away and strode towards the large cave behind them, beckoning for them to follow. They did so uneasily, heads bowed and eyes darting to and fro, unnerved by the odd sensation of something watching them.

The cave into which they stepped did not appear to be made of natural rock. Old stone fragments and architecture littered the floor and roof of the cavern. Blue light pulsed from an equally-blue gem embedded in the wall ahead of them, surrounded by meticulously carved stonework. It was as though they were walking through the ruins of an old temple.

Saffron shivered as icy prickles crept over her scales, like the blue light that spread from the gem was made of icy air. She edged closer to her brother, stopping briefly to observe an old stone pillar that lay broken on the cavern floor. A gritty, sand-like substance crunched beneath her paws.

"Follow me," Spyro's voice echoed alarmingly in the cavern, "I know the way."

No one questioned him. In silence they followed him up through a hole high in the cavern wall, and found themselves in another cavern. This one was larger than the first, and the air was very different. On one side, a yellow gem pulsed with vibrant light and Saffron found herself feeling oddly at home. On the other, a green gem spread gentle emerald light across the old stone architecture. Roku lingered here longer than the others.

But they moved on quickly, through another hole and into a third and final cavern. Harsh red light engulfed this cave like a fiery inferno, and to the dragons it seemed as though the walls were made of molten rock. Spyro quickly led them towards the mouth of the cavern, but Flame, Kazan and Ember lingered behind for a moment longer, for a reason they couldn't explain.

They stepped out into a wide clearing, surrounded by high walls and caves on one side, and a steep drop to the ocean below on the other. A ring of floating platforms in the centre of the clearing surrounded a ring of old statues, frozen in battle postures forevermore. Spyro eyed them uneasily.

"Be wary of those statues," he said quietly to his friends, "Last time I was here, they had a tendency to suddenly wake up and attack. But the Chronicler was testing me last time, and since I already passed his test…"

He left the sentence hanging and strode warily towards the ring of statues, muscles tensed just in case. Exchanging nervous glances, the others followed. As they edged towards the centre of the clearing, most of them noticed that the ground appeared to be made of a cold, crystal-like substance. Cynder's keen eyes picked out the warriors floating frozen in the crystal floor beneath her paws, tinged an eerie blue.

"That's creepy," Saffron muttered in her ear when the black dragoness pointed them out. She couldn't help but wonder if those warriors, who looked awfully like the statues Spyro warned them about, had ever been alive. A part of her hoped that wasn't the case.

"Hey, there's a big cave up there," Kazan called out suddenly, striding away from the others and staring up at the wide mouth of a cave in the rock face, "Who wants to bet that's the way we go?"

"No duh, genius," Flame snorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes and passing the crimson dragon on his way to the cave, "What else you got?"

"Wait up, guys!" Ember called, hurrying after them and almost tripping over her own paws in the process. The crystal-like surface was rather slippery.

The others lingered behind Spyro as he inspected the statues, half expecting them to come alive at any moment. But they remained in their frozen positions, stone weapons raised to the sky, and eventually Spyro shrugged and turned away. But no sooner had he done so did a horrible cracking sound echo throughout the clearing. The purple dragon yelled as he was thrown hard to the crystallised ground, sliding on the smooth surface. Saffron yelled in shock, and Zannak barrelled into her, knocking them both out of the way as one of the suddenly-mobile statues brought his sword down upon them. It missed them by a scale's breadth, striking crystal with a nasty crunching sound.

"The hell!" Flame roared when he saw his friends' predicament, just as a well-timed earth shot from Roku shattered one of the statues in mid charge. The three fire dragons whirled around and raced back to the centre of the clearing, determined to help, fire blazing from their jaws.

"Get off him!" Cynder roared upon seeing two of the statues standing over Spyro with their swords raised. She charged at them with eyes blazing, and a deadly whirlwind shot from her jaws, catching the stone creatures in a swirling vortex of death. They crashed to the ground in pieces, armour skittering across the smooth crystal floor.

Ember skirted around the battlefield, spitting blazing fireballs that exploded upon contact with the living statues. Flame's red-hot fire scorched any that tried to come near him, but Kazan charged in recklessly with paws ablaze and fire in his eyes. He crushed one between his blazing paws, and rammed another in the chest as his horns and crest caught fire too. One of the statues tried to creep up behind the crimson dragon, but he swung in a tight arc and sliced it clean through with his flaming tail. By now, at least half of his body was ablaze, and he was practically walking on fire.

"Woohoo, show those statues who's boss!" Zannak cried out excitedly, Kazan's fire reflected in his turquoise eyes. Saffron shouldered her brother aside and charged in with electricity arcing from her jaws.

All too soon it was over, and the dragons stood awkwardly in the centre of the clearing, surrounded by broken pieces of statue and scorch marks on the previously unmarred surface of the crystallised ground. Kazan's paws were still on fire, and he only noticed when Saffron pointed it out. Flustered, he stamped his paws until the flames were extinguished.

"Well, that was fun," Flame said unconcernedly, flexing ash-stained talons. Ember shot him a look that said quite clearly 'maybe for _you_.'

"You ok, Spyro?" Cynder asked gently.

"I'm fine," Spyro grunted, pushing himself back to his feet without meeting her eyes. Though he had been caught off guard at the beginning of the battle, not much more than his pride had been wounded. He felt both ashamed and ridiculous at having been caught by surprise so easily.

"I don't understand," he said to Cynder, attempting to cover up his wounded pride, "Why would they attack us? The Chronicler tested me last time…but he _knows_ me now! Why would he be trying to stop me from reaching him?"

"Maybe it's not you he's testing," Cynder replied soothingly, though there was a grim tone to her voice. Her eyes flicked towards the others and then met Spyro's again, pointedly. It took the purple dragon a moment to figure out what she was alluding to.

"Right," he said at length, shaking his head, "That would make sense."

But he couldn't shake the feeling of unease as they left the clearing and continued on.

The dragons soon discovered that the air on the White Isle was different than what they were used to. It felt heavier, thicker somehow, like flying through water rather than air, and every wing beat was a struggle. As a result, the group spent most of their time on the ground, flying only when it was necessary, and utilising the odd floating platforms dotted throughout the caves. It wasn't long before they ran into more of the living statues.

"Damn things!" Flame yelled after shattering his twentieth stone warrior, "Stop attacking us and start acting like proper statues – _that don't move_!"

"How many of these things _are_ there?" Cynder panted, exasperated.

They stood upon a cliff far above the clearing they had been in moments ago. From here, they could see across the vibrant blue ocean into the dark horizon beyond. Luminous-winged butterflies flitted around them, appearing to be made from nothing more than light. For a moment, with the moving statues dealt with for now, the White Isle seemed eerily peaceful.

"Where to from here?" Saffron asked, for they appeared to have hit a dead end.

"There," Spyro replied without missing a beat, pointing across empty space towards an adjacent cliff. It looked too far away to glide, and Cynder thought she could see more of the stone warriors milling about at the edge.

"Great," the black dragoness mumbled, flexing her wings, "Glad at least one of us knows the way."

The flight to the other cliff was tricky. The heavy air weighed down on their wings, threatening to drag them out of the sky and down to the rocky ground far below. But eventually, after much straining and muttered swears, they made it to the lip of the cliff and hauled themselves up. Immediately they were beset by a horde of angry, living statues.

"Go away!" Kazan yelled in annoyance, slamming a blazing paw straight through the chest of the closest statue.

There was an ominous rumbling sound, and several sharp stalagmites shot from the earth beneath the stone warriors, impaling them. They shattered and crumbled to pieces, and Roku walked calmly through the carnage without batting an eyelid. Scowling at the earth dragon's display of power, Kazan plodded after him, the others on his tail.

"You didn't have to do that," the crimson dragon muttered, "I could have handled them."

"The sooner we move on, the better," Roku replied calmly with a sideways glance at him, "We don't want to waste too much time in unfamiliar territory. Something doesn't feel right about this place."

"I know what you mean," Saffron piped up suddenly, catching up to the boys, "It feels like something is watching us. And not just those statue things…"

Feeling edgy, the three of them said nothing more until they found themselves in another, smaller clearing. It was surrounded on all side by high cliffs, except for an ornate white door set in the rock at the far side of the clearing. Statues were dotted around the edge of the clearing – carved dragon heads rather than stone warriors. Their eyes appeared to glow orange in the dim light.

"Didn't we see statues like this in the Dragon Temple?" Saffron mused, approaching one of the stone dragon heads and inspecting it closely. Its orange eyes seemed to stare challengingly back at her.

"Yeah…weird," Kazan agreed, raising an eyebrow.

The electric dragoness peered around the statue and her eyes fell on a flat platform set into the ground. It looked just the right size for the stone dragon head to fit on. It didn't take long for her to put two and two together.

"Anyone else think we need to put them on those platforms?"

"Why?" Kazan asked sceptically. But at that moment Spyro and the others joined them. Without stopping to say anything, the purple dragon moved forward to do exactly what Saffron had suggested. The statues shimmered oddly when they slid into place. Roku shifted the other with considerably more ease than Spyro had, and the white door opened soundlessly.

"See, told you," Saffron remarked to a bemused Kazan, "Come on."

Another dark winding tunnel, lit here and there with what appeared to be blue spirit gems, led them to a massive stone archway and a huge courtyard beyond. Spyro stepped through without hesitation, but the others hesitated before they followed. Across the other side of the courtyard were a great stone wall and a huge, marble doorway. It looked to the dragons like the front of a giant temple, and Cynder quickly released where they were.

"This must be the entrance to the Chronicler's Temple," she murmured to the others, "He must be just beyond here."

"Great," Zannak said brightly, "This place was starting to creep me out!"

"It still _is_ creeping me out…" Saffron grumbled, glancing side to side suspiciously. She spotted two large pools of suspiciously bubbling, bright blue-green water on either side of the clearing. The giant skeleton of some behemoth lay half in one of the pools, its eye sockets filled with flickering orbs of fire.

"Suppose the Chronicler gets angry that we followed Spyro here?" Kazan piped up nervously, as though the thought had just struck him. Even Flame looked a little unnerved by that thought.

"Don't worry," Ember told the others, with more confidence than she felt, "I'm sure Spyro knows what he's doing."

They'd only taken a few more steps across the courtyard, when a disembodied voice filled their ears and made them all jump. Flame spun around to try to find the owner of the voice, but the courtyard was void of all other life. The voice itself was soft and haunting, and quite obviously female.

_Hallowed darkness, sacred light_

_Gaining power, losing sight_

_Control the wind and pay the price_

_Earth, electricity, fire and ice_

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Flame exclaimed angrily, glaring at the dark sky as though the voice had come from there.

"Dunno, but if we're all hearing voices, I think we might be losing our minds," Zannak piped up, sounding strangely unconcerned by the prospect.

"What's Spyro doing?" Saffron cut in suddenly, and everyone stopped looking around for the owner of the disembodied voice to look at the purple dragon.

He stood on the far side of the clearing, in front of the temple entrance, and seemed to be looking for something. The way he kept jerkily changing direction made Saffron think he was waiting for something but wasn't sure where it would appear. Curious, the other dragons approached him.

"Spyro?" Cynder asked as they approached, and he glanced briefly at her.

"She didn't say that last time," he said cryptically, and went back to glancing suspiciously at the surrounding walls.

"What?"

"The voice," he replied, waving a paw, "she said something different last time. At least, I think so. But they should be here any second now…"

"Oh…" Cynder replied blankly, bemused, "…Who should be here?"

"There are runes here," Roku interrupted before Spyro had a chance to reply. The others glanced sharply at him to see he was standing in front of a tall slab of silvery rock imbedded in the ground like a tombstone. Sure enough, a series of spiky runes had been carved down the length of the stone. Saffron wondered if she was imagining the green sheen the runes seemed to shine with.

"What do they say?" she asked curiously, moving to the black dragon's side.

"Earth," he replied bluntly, frowning, "Just earth."

"There are others…" Ember added in a hushed, curious tone, "Look."

She waved a paw and they saw that there were indeed four other standing stones, all marked with different runes, arranged in a straight line outside the temple entrance. For the first time, Saffron noticed the tiny pedestals at the foot of each stone, their centres scooped out like stone bowls as though something had been intended to be placed there.

"What do you think they're for?" she murmured to Ember, but the pink dragoness could only shake her head.

Roku, meanwhile, was pacing along the line of stones, stopping to read the runes marked on each. Each stone bore the name of one of the elements, and seemed to shimmer with the corresponding colour. But what the stone bowls were for, he could not say. He didn't have very long to wonder, however.

"They're here," Spyro said suddenly, in a grim tone that put everyone on edge. But when they turned around to observe the courtyard, expecting to find otherworldly monsters of some unknown species, they saw nothing.

"What is?" Cynder hissed, feeling very on edge.

"Listen."

They listened. At first there was only silence, broken by the soft bubbling of the weird pools on either side of the clearing. Then their sensitive hearing began to pick up the sound of faint whirring – like fast spinning blades.

"What is that?" Saffron whispered nervously. No one answered her.

Slowly it became louder and louder, until it was almost piercingly painful. Then, with an odd metallic clicking sound, several _things_ leapt over the high walls and landed nimbly at the edges of the courtyard. They scuttled about on the ground for a few moments, as though unaware of the curiously watching dragons. But, moments later, the things began to stalk slowly closer, like predators closing in on unwary prey.

With a thrill of horror, Saffron realised what they were. Her limbs locked in place and her eyes widened considerably as cold fear rippled through her veins. With strange, otherworldly cries that sounded more artificial than animal, the creatures rose from the ground and began to spin – faster and faster, their blade-like legs slicing the air.

"Move!" Zannak yelled, throwing his sister aside as the creatures flung themselves at the dragons. The others scattered, but Saffron would have been cut down had her brother not shoved her aside. Startled and shaking, her eyes almost popping out of her skull, she scrambled desperately away from the whirring creatures.

"Attack them!" Spyro roared to the rest, dancing out of the way of one of their assailants, "Try to get the orbs!"

'_Orbs_?' Cynder wondered bemusedly, before she took a better look at the attacking creatures and realised what he meant. They were strange things and most definitely were not formed from flesh and blood. A large, clear crystal-like orb sat upon a set of copper – or was it bronze – legs, which looked more like sword blades than real limbs. They were strangely spider-like in appearance, though only sporting four legs, and moved just as similarly.

"So it's the orbs we want, is it?" Cynder said to herself with a confident smirk, lowering her body into a battle stance.

One of the spider-like creatures stood uncertainly in front of her, scuttling from side to side as though unsure of how to attack. Cynder didn't wait for it to make its move. In one graceful, fluid movement, she had leapt forward and slammed her tail into the creature. Orb and legs parted contact with hardly a sound, and the former rolled unsteadily away. Leaving the bodiless legs to stagger drunkenly, the black dragoness scampered after the orb.

But the instant she reached it and stretched out a paw to grab it, the thing flashed red and exploded in her face. With a shriek of shock more than pain, Cynder reeled backwards, pawing at her stinging face. She heard Spyro shout her time and, blinking spots of light from her eyes, glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me they explode?" she yelled accusingly at him.

"You need to put them in the pedestals!" Spyro yelled back, gesturing with a paw at the bowl-like pedestals beside the rune-marked gravestones. "They'll explode if you don't do it fast enough!"

"You could have told me that sooner!" Cynder growled, and turned to try her luck with another of the orb spiders.

Zannak wasn't having any more like. He was beset on all sides by three of the spiders, and Saffron was being no help at all. She just sat there, eyes wide and limbs frozen, a look of utmost terror on her face. With a growl, Zannak spat electricity at the nearest spider and it was thrown backwards by the powerful jolt. Then the gold-scaled dragon whirled on his sister.

"Snap out of it, Saffron!" he yelled, slapping her across the face with the flat of his black tailblade, "They're _crystal_ _balls_ on _legs_! Get a hold of yourself!"

But the yellow dragoness just uttered a noise like a strangled squeak, and huddled trembling against the wall beside the temple door. Growling in frustrated, Zannak planted himself firmly in front of her and let loose a storm of voltage at the three advancing spiders. Their metallic shrieks made him wince, but he watched in amazement as their crystal-orb bodies parted ways with their staggering bronze legs.

Suddenly Kazan shot by, grabbed one of the orbs, and slammed it into one of the bowl-shaped pedestals. It settled into the scooped-out groove with a low grating sound, and the crimson dragon let out a sigh of relief.

"What was that about?" Zannak asked blankly. Kazan glanced at him.

"You have to get them in the pedestals," he replied, "or they…"

The orb at Zannak's feet flashed red suddenly and exploded in a cloud of dust, causing the gold dragon to yelp and jump back, coughing.

"…explode."

Zannak pawed ash from his muzzle, "No kidding."

"What's with her?" Kazan asked, peering around Zannak at the trembling Saffron. He didn't like seeing her so terrified; it made him feel oddly uncomfortable. But she didn't even look at him. There was a haunted, hollow look in her wide, violet eyes.

"She's uh…" Zannak couldn't suppress a grin, "Got a bit of a phobia of bugs. _Big_ bugs. Guess these things are just a bit too…_spider-y_ for her."

Kazan, however, didn't seem to find it funny. If anything, he looked almost sympathetic.

"Is she ok?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but not entirely succeeding.

"She'll be right after a bit," Zannak replied offhandedly, "Hey, watch her for me, would you? I'll go see if the others need any help."

He scampered off without waiting for an answer, leaving Kazan to glare after him. The others appeared to be dealing fine with the rest of the orb spiders, and already four of the five pedestals had been filled. A nervous cough behind him alerted the crimson dragon and he turned.

With the spider threat dealt with for the moment, Saffron seemed to have come back to her senses. Kazan offered her an uncertain smile.

"You ok?"

She averted her gaze, clearly embarrassed and mumbled a reluctant, "Fine."

Kazan watched as the yellow dragoness pawed half-heartedly at the ground, quite obviously avoiding meeting his eyes. He could tell just from her stance that she was embarrassed and ashamed of her actions, but the fire dragon didn't think she had anything to be ashamed of. Looking around nervously to make sure no one else was watching or listening, he stepped a little closer.

"Everyone's afraid of something, you know," he said awkwardly, watching her face for a reaction. She continued to paw at the ground, digging a shallow groove in the slaty dirt.

"…I wasn't afraid…" she mumbled, shoulders stiff, still not making eye contact. Kazan sighed.

"It doesn't matter, ok? You don't have to deny it."

Saffron snorted softly and didn't look up from her paws. Kazan scowled at her reaction, or lack thereof, and turned away.

"Whatever," he muttered, sitting down with his back to her, "Forget about it."

Quietly seething with annoyance – _he'd only tried to cheer her up. What did he do to deserve the silent treatment? _– he didn't hear the sound of her stand up. But he did notice when she sat down quietly beside him. She didn't say a word, but the gesture was enough. Kazan glanced briefly at her, met her eyes, and looked away again. A faint smile touched his face.

Spyro slammed the final orb into the pedestal just as it flashed red. Everyone winced, expecting an explosion, but the orb settled calmly into the pedestal and was still. The purple dragon let out the breath he had unknowingly been holding. He looked approvingly up the line of pedestals and rune-marked stones.

"That's the last of them," he announced, to everyone's relief.

"What about the other spiders?" Flame asked, glancing behind him at the three spiders that were still scuttling about.

"Leave them," Spyro replied confidently, "They should stop bothering us once we get this door open."

"How?" Flame drawled, tapping his claws impatiently on the ground.

"Watch."

With everyone watching him closely, Spyro strode purposefully over to the pedestal second from the far right. He stopped in front of it, opened his jaws, and set the orb alight with a blast of fire. Everyone jumped in surprise. By the time the flames had dissipated, the orb was glowing with a deep red sheen. The dragons stared.

"So…what? We just breathe fire on all of them?" Flame asked, raising an eyebrow, "Easy."

"No," Spyro interrupted, before Flame could approach the nearest pedestal, "We need the other elements."

"…Now you've lost me," the red dragon groaned, "Why can't things ever be simple with you?"

"Remember the voice," Roku interrupted calmly, "It spoke of the five elements. Each of these stones bears the name of one of the elements. I believe each orb may only be powered by the correct element. Is that right, Spyro?"

The purple dragon nodded.

"Fair enough," Cynder shrugged, "But how do we tell which is which?"

"By colour," said Spyro, gesturing at the glowing runes on each stone, "or…well, Roku can read them."

It took them only seconds to power the orbs. Zannak, Cynder and Roku dealt with the electric, wind, and earth orbs respectively, leaving Spyro to power the final orb – ice. When all five were shimmering with different colours – blue, red, yellow, green, and silvery-white – the giant marble doors slowly creaked open. Behind them, the remaining orb spiders scuttled silently away.

"_Cooool_!" Zannak crowed as the massive doors groaned open to reveal a hallway that quickly curved out of sight. Just inside the doors was something very strange. It was not what it was that was so strange, but rather what it was doing. It was a book – a huge, blue, leather-bound book – and it was floating. Or rather, flapping, as though its back and front covers were wings; the pages between rustling softly with each movement.

"This place is getting weirder and weirder," Flame grunted disapprovingly.

"Come on," Spyro said, stepping towards the book as it began to float down the hallway ahead of them.

"So, what, now we have to follow a floating book?" asked Kazan, who, along with Saffron, had just joined them.

"Seems like it," the electric dragoness muttered, and followed the others through the marble doorway and into the hallway. The crimson dragon trailed after her.

"Could things _get_ any weirder?" he wondered aloud.

Despite Flame and Kazan's misgivings, the book led them through the short winding hallway and into a large, circular room. There were five doors leading out from this room, but only four were open. There was a shallow, circular depression in the centre of the room, surrounded by a ring of candles, a small, flat pad in the centre. Only Spyro knew what it was, but he did not say.

The instant Kazan, who was the last, stepped into the room, the door slammed shut behind him. Everyone whirled around in alarm to find themselves staring at a tightly shut door. It didn't seem like they'd be going back the way they'd come.

"That's…disconcerting," Cynder said uneasily.

"Wait!" Ember exclaimed, startling everyone, "Look at the door!"

They looked and, sure enough, something odd was happening to it. Silvery markings were spreading slowly across the wood, arranging themselves into odd intricate patterns. Roku was the only one who recognised it for what it was – the draconic symbol for air. Then, with a creaking sound, it opened. But they found themselves staring not down the hallway they had come from moments before, but into a swirling vortex of silvery wind.

"It didn't do that last time…" Spyro mumbled.

"That's comforting," Flame muttered, heavy sarcasm colouring his voice.

They were now surrounded on all sides by six doors – five of which led into strange, swirling vortexes, and the final of which was shut tight. Ignoring the others, Spyro hurried across the room, skirting around the depression in the middle of the floor, and approached the closed door. He examined it for a moment, before ramming it hard with his horns. It didn't budge.

"_Now_ what?" Saffron exclaimed, sounding undeniably worried.

Spyro stared at the closed door, a confused, worried look on his face, "I-I'm not sure… We'll have to go through the trials. But I don't understand! I completed them last time! Why would he be trying to stop me from getting to him? He said there was something important he had to tell me!"

"Calm down, Spyro," Cynder interrupted, as soothingly as she could as she slipped to his side, "You can ask him that once we get to him. But right now we need to figure out how to. What do you mean by trials?"

Spyro took a deep breath to calm himself and turned around, "Each of these doors leads to an elemental trial. I had to go through them all last time I was here. But…"

He hesitated, looking over his friends, "Being a purple dragon, I control all the elements. But you only have one element each. Does that mean you can only complete one trial?"

The group exchanged glances. Eventually Kazan shrugged and muttered an uncertain, "I…guess?"

It was obvious which trial was which, without Roku having to read the runes carved above each door. Each opened out onto a strange vortex of power, as though a dragon's fury had been captured and entrapped within the doors. The door to the electricity trail opened onto a vortex of crackling voltage, and one could just feel the heat from the vortex of fire next to it.

"But the wind trial wasn't here last time," Spyro added thoughtfully, staring across the room at the door that had previously led out into a simple hallway. He could not explain why it had suddenly appeared, and that worried him more than he cared to admit.

"These are tests, right?" Cynder cut in, and Spyro nodded, "So the Chronicler's just trying to test us…make sure we're worthy. He's not trying to keep us _out_; just making sure we're good enough to get _in_."

"What are you getting at?" Spyro asked curiously.

"Spyro, listen, the wind trial wasn't here last time because you didn't have the element of wind at that time," Cynder explained, frowning as though the thought had only just occurred to her, "The Chronicler couldn't test you on something you never learned, so you didn't have to take that trial. But now that you do know that element – or maybe because _I'm_ here – the trial has appeared."

"This is all too weird for me," Kazan groaned, rubbing his face with a paw, "Why don't we just complete these damn trials and get it over with?"

And, before anyone could stop him, he strode over to the nearest trial – which just so happened to be electricity. But the second he tried to place a paw into the vortex beyond the door, a jolt of voltage shot from the vortex and struck him hard in the chest. He was thrown backwards with a yelp and landed sprawled on the ground, wincing.

"Kazan!" Spyro exclaimed, shocked, 'Are you alright?"

"Nngh…Fine," Kazan groaned, rolling over onto his belly. Behind him, Saffron started to giggle. Mortified, the crimson dragon jumped to his feet and tried to look like nothing had happened. Flame rolled his eyes.

"Looks like we're only able to take our own trials," he muttered, stepping over to the fire trial. When he placed a paw in the vortex, the flames seemed to shimmer welcomingly. He grinned roguishly at the others.

"What do you say we split up?" he suggested, "You, little hatchling, can stay here while I deal with this one."

The last remark was directed at Kazan. The crimson dragon growled angrily and stalked over to Flame, gold eyes blazing a challenge.

"Hell no," he growled, "If anyone's going to do that trial, it's me."

Flame scoffed and tapped him sharply in the chest with a claw, "You think I'm gonna let you go in there and screw everything up? You couldn't complete it in a million years."

"Don't get me mixed up with the likes of you. _I_ could do this thing with my eyes closed."

"I'd like to see you _try_."

"Why don't you tag along and watch me, then?"

"You'll be the one doing the watching, moron!"

"Come on, guys," Ember pleaded, "We'll all do it together. How's that?"

They whirled on her at the same time with identical shouts of, "You stay here!"

Ember's eyes flashed angrily, "Oh no, I _don't_ think so. Someone has to keep you two boneheads out of trouble and it looks like it's gonna be me! So no arguing!"

"But…!"

"No. Arguing." Ember snarled in Flame's face and he backed down with a scowl. Cynder smiled approvingly.

"Keep an eye on them, Ember," she called to the pink dragoness, "You know how they are."

"Oh, I know. I can handle it."

With Kazan and Flame still snarling at each other, the three fire dragons stepped forward and disappeared into the vortex of flame. They were gone in an instant, leaving only crackling flames in their wake.

"They've got the right idea," Spyro sighed, "We'll have to split up. Saffron, Zannak, think you can handle it?"

"We'll be fine," Saffron said confidently with a glance at her goofily grinning brother, "Well…I'll make sure we stay out of trouble."

"Leave the earth trial to me," Roku murmured, "I will meet you all back here."

"Right…" Spyro mumbled, and the three dragons left through their corresponding doors. He looked up to see it was just he and Cynder left. The black dragoness smiled reassuringly at him.

"I'll take the wind trial," she said gently, "Guess that leaves you with ice. Good luck, Spyro. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah…" Spyro swallowed hard and watched as Cynder turned towards the door to the wind trial. Just before she disappeared into the vortex, he called out to her.

"Be careful!"

But she just smiled and was gone.

Suddenly feeling very alone, Spyro glanced once more at the closed door that he knew led to the Chronicler. Sighing, he turned away and stepped into the vortex of ice. The cold air welcomed him almost mockingly as it engulfed him.

Terrador had once said that Concurrent Skies was a place where all hope goes to die. But for Skelos, it was in this place that he hoped his plans would come to fruition. He took with him fifty warriors; a small enough number that they would not appear a threat to the Dreadwings, yet enough that they stood a chance of fighting their way out should things take a turn for the worse. Despite his outward confidence, the panther was not sure what to expect.

Like many others, the tales of the Terror of the Skies and her dark fortress had reached the Badlands years ago. But all the tales of Concurrent Skies could not prepare the panthers for the sight they were about to witness and the unforgiving land they were about to step into. A harsh, three-day trek over the Badlands and through rocky mountain ranges led them to a part of the world that most beasts who valued their lives would fiercely avoid.

They knew they were approaching long before they caught sight of the fortress – the way the skies began to darken, as though a fierce storm was on the way, made sure of that. And then the dark fortress rose from the land ahead of them, a beacon not of light but of shadow against a stormy, lightning-scarred sky. Together they stood upon an outcropping of rock, at the threshold to this land of storms and nightmares.

Lightning slashed across the sky, accompanied by an ominous tremor of thunder, illuminating the crystallised land below. Pale crystals, too cold to be spirit gems, rose like reaching fingers from the earth, crackling with what could only be electricity. The crystallised land stretched as far as the eye could see on all sides and, in the very centre, a dark castle loomed over all, casting the world into shadow.

"This is it," Skelos breathed, lightning reflecting in his dark, ocean-blue eyes. Another flash of lightning seemed to make his black fur stand on end, as though it too was charged with voltage. He gripped his spear tightly.

"I don't like the feel of this place," Silt said darkly beside him, his alarmingly orange eyes sweeping over the unwelcoming landscape. There was not a panther among them that could not feel the tension in the air, and it had nothing to do with electricity.

"We have no choice," Skelos replied calmly, "If this place is where the Dreadwings have made their home, then this is where we must go. We have already come this far; we are not backing out now."

"I knew you would say that, Master Skelos."

Skelos smirked wryly, "You know me too well, Silt."

In stiff silence, the panthers descended down the slanting rock face and stepped onto cold, crystallised ground. A maze of crystal outcrops and high dark cliffs awaited them, standing between them and the towering fortress that loomed over their heads. Orpheus craned his head upward to take in the foreboding building of slim turrets and high, arched windows of purple glass. He thought he could see dark shadows circling the highest towers, almost invisible against the deep grey sky.

"Be vigilant," Skelos told his warriors grimly, "We never know what could be hiding in this place, waiting to ambush us. Do not give them any chances. Follow me."

Their pawsteps sounded strangely magnified in the silence, though they were soft against the hard, crystal-like ground. It was cold against the pads of their paws, and they found little traction on the slick surface; each step was slow and deliberate for this reason. It was so unlike the shifting sands they were used to.

It was eerily quiet as they made their way through the crystal maze. Using his sword-staff like a walking stick, Orpheus kept pace beside Skelos for much of the slow trek. The crystals around them seemed to crackle with voltage every few minutes, and Orpheus jumped every time they did. This land felt dead and abandoned, but he could not shake the unnerving sensation of watching eyes on his back. At one point they passed an old turret that looked as though it could have once been a search tower, though it looked as though it had been disused long ago.

They soon discovered that the place was dotted with broken and disused search towers and other pieces of foreign technology. They passed the remains of old shattered gates and war machines, and diodes that had once, unknown to them, generated electrified force fields. It was this sort of bizarre ape technology that was unknown to the panthers. But they recognized a former warzone when they saw one.

"I wonder what happened here," Orpheus said quietly as his foot nudged a piece of metal that had once been part of an electrified canon.

"This is ape machinery," Skelos replied solemnly, "There must have been a battle here, years ago."

Orpheus gazed down at a scorch mark between his feet that had never fully faded from the crystallised earth, "Dragons?"

"Perhaps."

Stepping over the shattered remains of a broken canon, Skelos led his warriors on through the deserted battlefield – unaware that a young purple dragon had fought his way through this place years ago, leaving devastation in his wake. The memories of that day still remained, in the broken shards of machinery and the battle scars that littered the worn, crystallised earth. But the panthers were not to know that.

Perhaps the restless spirits of the apes that had died long ago still lingered amongst their broken machines, and were the reason for the uneasy feeling that had settled on the shoulders of the panthers now. They could almost feel the ghostly, desolate eyes on their backs, and most turned more than once to check if they were being followed. But they saw nothing, for life in this place was all but nonexistent.

For Orpheus, the atmosphere of this land had a strange affect of him. A heavy sadness seemed to linger in the air, but none noticed it more than him. He felt it dampening his fur, even though the electrified air caused it to shiver and stand on end. The silence that had before seemed so eerie, now only seemed sad and lonely, despite the distant rumbling of thunder.

What would it have been like, he wondered, to have been there in those battle days? Orpheus could not imagine the carnage that had swept through this place, the fear the apes must have felt as they were cut down by their scaly enemies. He was not to know that a single dragon had been the cause of all this. He was not to know that the deaths of the many apes that had once fought here rested on the shoulders of a young purple dragon – a dragon he himself had faced in battle not so long ago.

But he could still feel the sadness in the air, and it felt like it was eating at his very heart.

It took them approximately half an hour to reach the foot of the towering fortress; far too long for Orpheus's liking. It was not the heavy atmosphere that worried him, though it did dampen his spirits, but rather the dark shapes circling the fortress that he had spotted earlier. He was almost certain he wasn't imagining them now, and knew that, whatever they were, they were big. He just hoped they hadn't spotted them.

"Where now?" Skelos mused to himself when they had all halted outside the giant doors to the fortress, "I supposed we go in…"

"Master Skelos…" Orpheus said warily, chancing another glance up at the dark sky and the circling shadows.

"Let's see if this door isn't locked…" Skelos murmured, only half aware of the younger panther trying to get his attention. He stepped forward carefully and reached out a paw to the slick black doors.

"Master Skelos!'

"_What_, Orpheus?" he growled without turning around, preparing to push the doors inward. Beside him, Silt glanced to the sky and saw what had Orpheus so worried.

"Sir!" he yelled to Skelos, "The sky!"

Skelos spun around just as five heavy thuds rippled through the earth and almost threw him off balance. The panthers backed up together in shock, suddenly surrounded on all sides by five, giant bat-like creatures that had just dropped from the sky. They had long, flat faces, with snouts like that of wild boars, and two sharp canines that protruded from their lower jaws.

Dreadwings.

They stood at least as tall as a full grown panther and twice as wide – not considering their wingspan, as their wings were currently folded tight against their furred bodies. Five pairs of beady, yellowed eyes glared into the tightly packed group of panthers from all sides. Skelos tightened his grip on his javelin warily.

"What now?" Silt hissed in his ear, "They've got us surrounded. And they're bigger than I expected."

"That makes two of us," Skelos grunted, having never seen a Dreadwing up close before; he decided he hadn't missed much.

For the moment, the Dreadwings just appeared to be inspecting them, their beady eyes alight with curiosity. Skelos hoped it stayed that way, because he wasn't keen for a battle with five creatures over twice his size. They might have outnumbered the bat-like beasts, but in a situation like this he wasn't confident that they outmatched them too.

"Stay still," he murmured softly, but in the silence everyone heard it, "Don't make any sudden movements. We don't want them to think we're hostile."

"What are we going to do?" Orpheus asked in a loud, frightened whisper, "Negotiate with them?"

"I don't think they can speak," Skelos growled, suddenly wishing he'd thought through his plan a little bit more. He hadn't expected the Dreadwings to be so big, appear so suddenly, or work so well together. They had them surrounded and taken them by surprise, and Skelos didn't like it one bit.

One of the Dreadwings opened its mouth and uttered a high-pitched shriek, so suddenly that many of the panthers flinched and slapped their paws over their ears. Skelos gritted his teeth at the painful sound. It died away quickly, however, and the wincing panthers uncovered their ears. Two of the Dreadwings looked at each other, and Skelos's sensitive hearing picked up a series of odd clicking sounds. At first he was confused, before he realised with a jolt that they were _talking_ to each other.

That was when he realised – these weren't the mindless savage creatures he had been expecting; they were sentient beings. Squaring his shoulders, Skelos pushed his way through the crowd of his panthers and faced the bat-like beasts. Their beady eyes glared curiously at him.

"I do not know if you can understand me," Skelos said, to the surprise of the panthers behind him, "But if you can, I want you to know that we mean you no harm."

The Dreadwing in front of him screeched softly, and followed it up with a series of low clicking noises. Skelos frowned, wondering if it was trying to speak to him like he was to it.

"I have come with a proposition," he said slowly to the beast, "Do you have a leader we may talk to?"

For several long moments the Dreadwing just stared at him, and he wondered whether it had understood him at all. He was just hoping they wouldn't have to fight their way out, when the Dreadwing turned and started 'talking' to its partner once more. Skelos waited edgily, fist clenched nervously around his javelin. The other Dreadwings just seemed to be watching.

Suddenly the Dreadwing turned back to him and uttered another shriek that seemed to go straight through Skelos's sensitive ears. He winced and almost raised his javelin to protect himself, before he realised the creature was not attacking. If anything it had backed away.

There was a low creaking noise behind them and Skelos spun around to see one of the Dreadwings had opened the door to the fortress. It lumbered inside and turned to look back at the panthers. Frowning, Skelos glanced back at the other Dreadwings. They nodded their flat faces towards the open door, and one gestured loosely with a wing.

"I think they want us to go in," Orpheus whispered, looking unnerved by the idea.

Skelos nodded slowly, "I think…they want to take us somewhere. Perhaps to their leader."

"Master, are you sure this is a good idea?" Silt asked warily in a low voice, still well aware that they were surrounded by the winged beasts. The entrance to the fortress looked dark and foreboding ahead of them.

But Skelos didn't answer; he just stepped confidently through the doors and into the darkness beyond. Exchanging worried glances, Orpheus and Silt hurried after him. The other panthers followed warily, shooting nervous glances at the Dreadwings at their backs. There didn't seem to be much hope for escape as they were herded through the doors into the dark foyer of the fortress.

Light filtered through arched purple windows, bathing the group of cats in deep indigo. The floor beneath their paws was smooth and cold, and the air inside the fortress tasted almost stale. Though the light was low, their sharp eyes quickly adjusted to see through the violet gloom. A narrow hallway lay opposite the entrance, and it was through here that the Dreadwings led their guests.

The panthers stayed close together, paws on weapons, prepared for anything. But they needn't have worried. The hallway opened out into a large, circular room that looked, upon first glance, to be completely empty. Skelos frowned as he looked around, and saw with some awe that the ceiling was simply not there – it just stretched up, up into darkness.

The Dreadwings herded the panthers into the centre of the room, where rings of violet light led to a small circle of indigo glass in the very centre of the floor. Quit suddenly, to the overwhelming shock of the panthers, the floor jerked upwards. Some crouched in alarm, but Skelos kept his footing as they began to rise smoothly up into the darkness.

"What's going on?" Orpheus yelped, steadying himself with his sword-staff, as the floor rose up the middle of the tower, taking the panthers and the Dreadwings with it.

"Don't worry," Skelos replied calmly, watching the walls drift past as they rose, "It's just more ape technology."

It was a wild guess on Skelos' part, but he was correct. This was one of many elevators throughout the fortress, powered by spirit gems. The panthers had never seen nor heard of an elevator before, and it both unnerved and impressed them as the floor rose seemingly of its own accord.

The elevator groaned to a halt several floors up, and the panthers staggered off feeling disorientated. Unfazed, the Dreadwings led them on through winding hallways filled with indigo light drifting in through the slim, arched windows. The fortress was huge, Skelos thought, trying to see down every corridor they passed by.

At one point, Orpheus grabbed his arm, pointed down a corridor, and hissed something in his ear.

"I know," Skelos murmured back as quietly as he could, "I saw it too."

Another elevator ride later, and the panthers found themselves on, though they weren't aware of it, the topmost floor of the fortress. Skelos spotted another elevator that, unknown to him, would take them up to the very summit and out into the open air on the roof of the fortress. But the Dreadwings led them away from the elevator and down a side corridor to a pair of impressive double doors.

A slim dragonhead had been carved into the centre of the doors, and its yellow eyes glared challengingly at the panthers as they approached. Skelos's paw tightened around his spear again; he had a feeling he knew what lay beyond that door.

A Dreadwing stepped forward and pushed one of the doors open, splitting the dragonhead down the middle, and slipped silently into the room beyond. Skelos strained to get a look, but could see little through the gap in the doors. Nevertheless, his sensitive ears quickly picked up the sound of Dreadwings talking.

At first there were just low clicking noises, like the ones the Dreadwings had made earlier, but then Skelos heard a voice that chilled him to the very core; a voice so full of menace it almost dripped acid; a voice that he could _understand_.

"Invite our guests in, Drehgarr. They must be weary from their long trek."

Skelos held his breath as the doors creaked inwards and he caught a glimpse of what had once been Cynder's stateroom. The walls were lined with high, arched windows of purple glass, and a long, thin, tattered red carpet led to a great stone throne on the far wall. But it was not the throne that was impressive; rather, it was the beast that sat upon it.

Upon the throne that the Terror of the Skies had once sat upon, lay the biggest Dreadwing Skelos had ever seen. It was at least twice the size of the ones that had greeted them outside the fortress, and it's great, furred body was larger even than a full-grown dragon. Its wings were folded tight against its body, and Skelos had a feeling that their full span would not fit into this room.

The Dreadwing's fur was pure white, and the skin of its face and arms was bluish-black. Great red wings stood out like blood against the white fur, but Skelos's eyes were drawn to the fierce, long face of the beast. Its eyes, a sickly shade of yellow, glinted with intelligence as their gazes met. A cold smile cracked its flat, ugly face.

"Welcome, guests," said the Dreadwing in a voice as cold and sharp as shards of ice, "I am Orroch, king of the Dreadwings. To what do we owe this honour?"

Even Skelos felt obliged to bow, and he sank to one knee in front of the mighty Dreadwing without hesitation. Looking up, his deep blue eyes met the yellow orbs of the king once more.

"It is an honour, king Orroch of the Dreadwings."

Cynder breezed through the trial of wind with ease. Wind was her only natural element, after all, and as such its control came easily to her. The first courtyard she came to was full of creatures that looked more like animated clumps of crystal than living beings. They moved slowly, shambling across the earth and dragging clubs of clear crystal behind them. She could feel their footsteps echoing through the earth with unnerving clarity.

Warily, the blank dragoness jumped lightly from the ledge she was standing on into the courtyard. There was cold dirt beneath her paws and it clung resolutely to her talons with every step she took. Unsure if the crystal beasts were hostile, Cynder kept a wary eye on them as she approached the barrier across the other side of the courtyard.

Two standing stones, marked with the rune for wind, stood guard on either side of the clear, shimmering barrier. The barrier itself did not appear natural, and it looked to Cynder as though it was formed of captured tongues of silvery wind – if such a thing were possible. She was just wondering how to get passed it, when she heard the rush of something heavy behind her and leapt to the side just in time. The crystal club slammed into the dirt where she had been standing seconds before.

Whirling around, Cynder snarled at the crystal beast that had dared to sneak up behind her. It retracted its club slowly, leaving a deep crease in the earth. Cynder had a feeling it was watching her, despite its obvious lack of a face or eyes. Opening her maw, she prepared to give it a taste of poison. But nothing happened, and she found herself having to dodge to the side again as the beast struck out once more.

For a split second she was confused, before she reminded herself that this was the trial of _wind_. It seemed her other powers wouldn't work in this place, but she was hardly bothered by that thought. With a grim smile, Cynder cut the beast down with a sharp blade of wind that sliced right through its crystallised body.

By now, the others had noticed the intruder and were shambling over to apprehend her. But they moved far too slowly, and the black dragoness brought them all down with ease, a mini cyclone whirring around her body. As the last fell and shattered into shards of – to Cynder's amazement – spirit gems, she heard something crack behind her.

Spinning around in alarm, Cynder's shoulders relaxed when she realised it had been the standing stones that had broken. They lay in pieces now, the shattered runes no longer glowing, and the barrier had dissipated. Feeling confident, Cynder let the shards of spirit gem absorb into her scales and strode through the opening where the barrier had once been.

Another courtyard and four more crystal beasts later, the black dragoness found herself standing at the edge of a chasm that stretched far down into darkness. Craning her head upwards, she saw high cliff walls rising seemingly forever into a white expanse. The way between the walls was narrow and winded out of sight before too long. To Cynder, it seemed as though she was standing at the very edge of the world.

"Where now?" she mused to herself, staring down into darkness. Shards of stone broke off under her talons and tumbling soundlessly into the endless chasm.

Frowning, the black dragoness looked ahead again and spotted something she had not seen the first time. A ring of white light hung in the air between the canyon walls, shimmery with a silvery sheen. Cynder stared at it for a long time, wondering why it seemed so inviting to her, until at last it dawned on her.

"This must be another challenge," she murmured, hunching her shoulders and spreading her wings, "Let's see what you've got, Chronicler."

Cynder sprang off the edge with a rush of wind, leaping out over endless blackness. The wind caught her wings and she propelled herself towards the suspended ring of light. It flashed almost welcomingly as she soared through it, and then dissipated without a trace. Cynder faltered briefly, until she realised another ring had flared to life just ahead of her.

Grinning with confidence, the black dragoness shot towards the ring and it too dissipated as she passed through. Another appeared, higher up this time, and she winged upwards to meet it. It wasn't until, several rings later when they were starting to spawn further apart, that Cynder noticed something odd about them. The longer she took to reach a ring, the smaller it seemed to become, until at last she was sure she wasn't imagining it.

She had a feeling that, if she didn't reach it in time, the ring would shrink and disappear all together. And Cynder had a feeling that wouldn't be a good thing, though she wasn't sure why. Still, she was always up for a challenge.

The black dragoness sped through the dark canyon without halt, ducking and weaving through the rings as they appeared. Soon they were getting further apart and, to her horror, shrinking ever faster. At one point, she almost didn't reach one before it disappeared completely, and was forced to give herself a boost of wind. She had a feeling that no dragon without the element of wind could complete this challenge – they'd never be able to fly fast enough, or with such control.

As Cynder passed through the nearest ring, another spawned almost directly below her. She dived frantically, snapping her wings sharply against her body, and pulled up tightly at the last second with a little help from her element. The ring flashed and dissipated as she soared through. Smirking, she sped on.

It continued for several minutes, until Cynder's wings were aching from the strain. After a series of sharp zigzags that had forced her to bounce from wall to wall to reach the swiftly spawning rings, at last the end was in sight. Relieved, Cynder soared down through the final ring and landed gratefully on solid ground. Ahead of her, two rune-marked standing stones shattered, and the door between them opened invitingly. Cynder didn't look back at the chasm as she stepped through.

On the other side of the door, a small circular platform awaited her in a dark, cramped cavern. The surface of the raised platform was glowing with white light, and the black dragoness couldn't help feeling strangely drawn to it. Positive this was what she was meant to do, she stepped lightly onto the glowing platform. The glow enveloped her entirely, engulfing every scale, every shred of essence, until all she would see was white – and all she could hear was the comforting howl of wind.

The void around her faded back into existence all too soon, and Cynder was faced with what seemed to be an arena of sorts. She stood upon a huge, circular platform, surrounded on all sides by high, plain walls. The arena was dark, and she couldn't place where the little light was coming from. Under her feet, she realised the rune for wind had been carved into the stone. Curious, she stepped off it and looked around the edge of the arena, noting the runes for the other elements had been carved too.

As she stared, one of the runes suddenly lit up with a flash of green light. The Earth rune. Cynder frowned at it, both curious and bemused. But she didn't have long to ponder the mystery, because suddenly she was no longer alone.

A rumble shook the flat stone beneath her paws, and a giant figure appeared in the centre of the arena. Under Cynder's startled gaze, the armoured giant rose to his feet and held out his massive arms. A shield, upon which the wind rune was engraved, flashed into existence on his left arm, and a giant sword in his right hand. Slowly, his helmeted face turned towards the frozen black dragoness.

The giant's unearthly howl was what broke Cynder from her frozen shock. With a growl, she charged at the armoured giant and let loose a burst of concentrated air, diving to the side a millisecond later. The giant's sword swing missed its mark, but Cynder's attack struck its shield hard, tearing the heavy object from its grip. It uttered a sound not unlike that of a wounded animal, but so otherworldly that it almost made Cynder's scales stand on end.

It staggered and turned towards her again, raising its colossal blade. Despite his size, the giant's swing was fast, and Cynder barely had time to dodge before the sword slammed into the ground where she had been standing but a second before. It cut a deep groove in the stone and became lodged, much to the armoured giant's irritation. Furiously, he tugged and pulled at the blade, but it was held fast.

Cynder took that chance to skirt around behind it, and attack it in a flurry of wind. Crescent blades formed of wind sliced through the armour like a knife through butter, and the giant howled and staggered forward, dropping his lodged sword. It stayed stuck in the groove it had created for just an instant, until it fell with much scraping of metal and disappeared in a flash of light.

Unarmed, the wounded giant turned to glower at the black dragoness, half his armour hanging off to reveal fleshless bone on his leg and arm. Cynder grimaced and backed away, pawing the floor nervously and waiting for her opponent to make his next move. The giant took several shambling steps in her direction, the thud of his heavy footfalls causing the whole arena to shake. He raised his hand slowly and, to Cynder's great shock, a new blade materialised in his grip.

"That's hardly fair," the black dragoness snarled, ducking under the blade as the giant tried and failed to sever her head from her shoulders.

Steeling her nerves, she dashed towards his unarmoured, skeletal leg, and cut straight through it with another crescent blade of wind. With an eerie howl of despair, the giant fell backwards and struck the ground with an almighty crashing of armour. His sword dropped from his hand for a second time, and Cynder only just managed to avoid it when it fell to the ground and dissipated once more.

Panting, the black dragoness circled nervously around the fallen giant, watching its feeble attempts to get back to its feet. But one of its legs was gone, and all of its attempts were fruitless. With a moan, it reached an armoured hand out to Cynder, skeletal fingers just inches from her snout. Then, to her amazement, the giant's body dissolved right before her eyes and floated away as tiny orbs of light on a gentle breeze.

Cynder let out a sigh of relief and sat back on her haunches. Glancing behind her, she saw the carved rune of wind light up with a silvery white glow. Then, from above, a small platform floated out of the darkness to land in the centre of the arena. Without much hesitation, the black dragoness leapt up onto it. She felt soft tendrils of white caress her scales as the platform rose again, taking her with it, up into darkness.

When Cynder opened her eyes again, she found herself standing in front of the door that had taken her to the trial of wind. The door snapped shut on the silvery vortex, and the standing stones of either side of it shattered like glass. The black dragoness turned around to see she was back in the room in which they'd all split up. Roku was sitting outside the now closed door to the earth trial.

"You're back," he said by way of greeting, angling his head politely towards her.

"Where are the others?" Cynder asked, padding over to him once she had determined that he was the only other dragon in the room.

"They have yet to return," Roku replied, shaking his head. A frown settled on his face, and he met Cynder's gaze again. "The final challenge of your trial…what was it?"

Slightly surprised by the question, Cynder hesitated before she replied, "There was a giant…in armour. I had to fight it. Why?"

Roku's eyes glinted in the light from the candles around the room, "You too… I thought so. I believe the giant you fought was the spirit of wind, and I am sure the one _I _fought was the spirit of earth. I assume the others will likely face a similar battle with the guardian spirits."

Cynder frowned, "So…we were forced to fight the spirits of our elements? Guess that's one way of testing us. He seemed a little too…_substantial_ to be a spirit."

Roku replied with a wry smile, "I think we've established that things are not always as they seem in this place. The Chronicler knows what he is doing, I am sure of that."

"Well, I just hope the others are able to handle themselves."

As though on cue, a sudden iciness filled the room and a dragon materialised outside the door to the ice trial. The door snapped shut sharply, the standing stones shattered, and Spyro turned around to face the two black dragons. Cynder jumped up to greet him, ignoring the frostiness of his scales as she rubbed her cheek against his.

"Looks like we beat you back, Spyro," she teased with a sultry glance at the purple dragon.

A look of relief crossed his face to see Cynder safe and sound, "You must have been fast. But…where are the others?"

Spyro looked around the room, seeing only Roku beside the shattered stones that had once held the runes for earth. The doors to the fire and electricity trials were still open, and the dragons that had entered them were nowhere to be seen.

"I guess they're still inside," Cynder murmured, and added upon seeing Spyro's anxious expression, "I'm sure they're fine, Spyro."

The purple dragon sat down beside Roku with a sigh, "I sure hope so."

While Spyro worried, inside the electricity trial Saffron and Zannak were arguing. Or, at least, Saffron was arguing and Zannak was being his usual contrary self.

"Why won't this door open?" the yellow dragoness snarled, throwing herself at the wooden door for the fifth time. But it refused to budge, and she collapsed panting beside it.

"Probably because we're not meant to go that way, sis," Zannak pointed out with a teasing grin. Saffron raised her head to glare at him.

"Of course we're meant to go this way, you buffoon!" she snapped, "Where else can we go besides back the way we came?"

She gestured violently down the tunnel from whence they'd come. They'd fought through several courtyards of strange animated crystal monsters, navigated over a series of floating platforms they'd had to power with their electric breath, and at last seemed to have reached the end of the trial. But there was nothing in this cavern but a wooden door that refused to open and a small platform in the centre that had done nothing when Zannak had stepped on it.

"Maybe we took a wrong turn. Your sense of direction _is_ pretty bad, you know."

"Argh!" Saffron slammed her forehead into the sandy ground in frustration, "We can't have taken a wrong turn! The trials led us straight here!"

"You couldn't follow a straight line if your life depended on it, sis," Zannak grinned, dancing around her and marvelling at how the sand preserved his pawprints, "You've got us lost, I tell you!"

"Oh, shut up, would you?" she growled, and muttered to herself, "Could we have missed something on the way? There's got to be something to do with that platform…"

She had already tried spitting electricity at it, but it had done nothing. And she was beginning to think that this door was not a door at all, but just a piece of wood trying to trick her. Zannak was still prancing around her, far too amused by the trails of pawprints he left in the sand than was healthy – at least Saffron thought so. She turned to glare at him, opening her mouth to tell him to stop moving about, when she caught sight of something that sent chills down her spine.

"Zannak, would you st– oh my Ancestors, _whatthehellisthat_?"

She was on her feet in an instant, and Zannak spun around expecting to see giant, hellish monsters of some sort. But at first it seemed as though the cavern was empty but for them, until he spotted a small _something_ scurrying about near his feet. It was about twice as big as one of his paws, and looked to his amazement like a little stone button on legs – four, very spidery legs.

Saffron fled to the other side of the cavern, far away from what she was sure was one of the biggest spiders she'd ever seen – not counting those horrible orb spiders from earlier. She was beginning to think this place had a thing for spiders, and that didn't sit well with her.

"Kill it, Zannak!" she shrieked, watching it scuttle about around her brother, "Squash it!"

But Zannak laughed and skipped out of the way when the spider-like thing almost scuttled over his paw. "It's not a spider, Saff! It's a little…thing. Looks like a button or something. Hey, maybe we got catch it!"

And, ignoring his sister's horrified expression, he pounced on the spidery creature. But it shot out from under him seconds before he slammed his paws down into the sand and missed it by inches. Blinking in surprised, Zannak stared at his empty paws and wondered how the thing could have moved so fast. Then, grinning widely, he jumped up and charged after it as it scuttled quickly away.

"Help me catch it, sis!" Zannak called excitedly, pouncing and missing again when it ran between his legs. Saffron looked horrified by the very thought.

"I'm not going anywhere near that thing!" she screeched, and then screamed when she saw it scurrying towards her, "Get it away from me!"

She leapt away from the spidery thing and hurried over to hide behind her brother. He was laughing by now, teal eyes twinkling with merriment.

"I told you it's not a spider! It's a little…button thing. Come on, it's not going to hurt you. Look."

The gold dragon crept up on the spider-button and, when he was close enough, pounced. Again, his paws missed it by inches and it scurried over to hide in the shadows of the cavern walls. Zannak pushed himself up, grinning as though it was all a game – which, to him, it was.

"See? It's scared of us," he pointed out, "And I bet we have to catch it. Maybe it's a switch to get that platform to do something."

Saffron grimaced, "Well, catch it then."

"But it's too fast! I need your help, sis, come on."

"I told you, I'm not going near it! It's freaky!"

"It's not going to hurt you! It doesn't even have a face! It's just a button on tiny little legs. Come _on_!"

Saffron glared, but she had to admit he was right. Unlike a spider, the little creature didn't have any sort of pincers or fangs. In fact, as far as she could see, all it had was four tiny little legs. The yellow dragoness uttered a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine," she grumbled, shuddering, "I'll help you catch the stupid thing."

"Sweet," said Zannak, who had been sneaking up on it again, "Because it's coming right for you!"

Saffron shrieked and jumped to the side, but the little creature ran straight between her legs without stop. Growling, the yellow dragoness spun around and pounced on it. It shot out from between her paws, skirted around her, and ran back towards Zannak. He swiped at it, but hit only sand as it scuttled nimbly away. Saffron closed in, growling defensively, and the thing ran at her again, aiming for the gap between her legs.

She struck it with her tail as it shot through her hind legs, and it skidded off course, giving Zannak time to finally pounce on it. His paws struck the little button-spider heavily, and it seemed to shrink into the ground until its legs were all but invisible. It didn't get up again when he gingerly parted his paws to make sure he'd actually caught it.

"Well, we got it," Zannak muttered, staring at the button between his paws.

"Look!" Saffron exclaimed suddenly, and her brother spun around.

The platform in the middle of the room was now glowing with a brilliant yellow light, throwing strange shadows on the walls of the cavern. Saffron eyed it warily.

"It sure wasn't doing that before," she remarked.

"Come on," Zannak grinned, "Let's see what this thing does."

Rolling her eyes, Saffron followed him, and the two siblings stepped together onto the platform. The yellow light engulfed them, electricity crackled over their scales, and suddenly they found themselves in a place they had not been before – a dark arena of sorts. There were three spots of light around the edge of the arena, carved runes that glowed with white, green, and blue light. The rune they were standing upon was not glowing.

"What do you think they mean?" Zannak wondered allowed.

Saffron glanced down at the rune under her paws, recognising it as the one of electricity. She stared at the glowing runes across the room again, an idea forming in her head.

"I bet they light up when the trial is complete," she mused, "Green, blue and white… That's got to be earth, ice and wind."

"Spyro must have done the ice trial," Zannak murmured, and Saffron glanced uneasily at him. There was a wistful look in his eyes, and she had no doubt who was on his mind.

"Zannak…"

But before either of them had another chance to speak, the whole arena shook violently and a colossal armoured being appeared in the centre. The two siblings exchanged glances as the giant rose to his feet, a shield in one hand and an oversized sword in the other. The dragons grinned at each other.

"Let's do this."

At the same time, three fire dragons had just found themselves in a similar arena after much arguing and violent disagreements. The trial had taken much longer than it should have, thanks to Flame and Kazan's constant arguments, no matter how Ember tried to play mediator. The pink dragoness herself was feeling mighty irritated by their antics, and her patience was reaching the end of its tether by the time they reached the end of the trial.

"Great," Kazan groaned, looking around the dark arena, "Guess we're not done yet, huh? What is it this time?"

"Whatever it is, it's probably nothing I can't handle," Flame boasted, and added with a snarl, "As long as you don't get in my way again!"

Kazan returned the snarl, "You were the one getting in _my_ way! _I'll_ deal with this one!"

"Like hell you will! You don't even know what it is!"

"Oh, and you do? Enlighten me, oh mighty king of idiots!"

"We're in an arena, moron! We're obviously supposed to fight something!"

"Like what, our own shadows? Or maybe I've gotta fight _you_. That, I could appreciate."

"If it's a fight you want, I'll gladly give you one! But don't expect me to go easy on you!"

"Bring it on!"

"Ooooh, _shut_ _up_!" Ember screeched suddenly, planting herself firmly between the arguing red dragons and flaring her wings angrily. Startled, they jumped backwards and shut their mouths. The pink dragoness glared at them both. "If I have to listen to one more _stupid_ argument, I'm going to clobber the both of you, you great buffoons! I am _this_ close to bashing your heads together, so shut up and stop arguing – _or else_!"

She leered at them both with narrowed azure eyes, "Am I clear?"

Kazan and Flame averted their eyes, looking suitably abashed. Ember scowled at their silence and repeated herself in a dangerous, icy tone.

"I _said_, am – I – _clear_?"

"Yes, ma'am," the red dragons mumbled reluctantly, still averting their eyes. That seemed to satisfy the pink dragoness.

"Good, now let's find a way out of…" she turned around and froze when the arena trembled under her paws, and she saw the armoured giant materialise before her eyes. He rose to his feet with an unearthly howl, raising his colossal sword to the sky.

Ember gulped, "…here."

A wild grin crossed Flame's face, "Oh yeah, now _this_ is a battle."

"Bring it on, you ugly brute," Kazan added with a growl, flaring his wings and crouching into a battle stance. Without waiting for Flame to make a move, the crimson dragon charged across the arena and Comet Dashed straight into the giant's massive stone shield.

"Oi!" Flame yelled, charging after him as the giant's shield went flying and so did Kazan.

The crimson dragon landed awkwardly on his side, and rolled onto his belly just as the giant loomed over him with sword at the ready. Kazan winced and shielded his face with his wings, preparing for the blow. But then he heard the sound of armour shattering, and the giant uttered an eerie howl of pain. Uncovering his face, Kazan saw him staggering backwards with a smoking hole in his chest plate. Flame stood in front of him, smoke gushing from between his fangs.

"_I'm_ your opponent," he growled at the giant, pawing the earth challengingly, "Not this idiot."

"Watch who you're calling idiot," Kazan growled, and pushed himself back to his feet, "I can take this guy down."

Flame scoffed, "Sure, that's why he almost lopped off your head."

"I was distracted!"

"And if I wasn't here to save your hide, you'd be headless!"

Kazan's retort was cut off when the giant slammed his armoured foot into the floor, shaking the entire arena and knocking the both of them off balance. He raised his sword again, but then howled and dropped to his knees when a flurry of fireballs exploded on his back, shattering his armour.

"Stop arguing and fight!" Ember yelled at the boys, spitting another fireball that struck the giant's helmet with a hollow clanging sound.

"Yeah, Kazan!" Flame added, before firing his own fireballs at the giant.

"She was talking to you!" Kazan growled, his paws igniting with bright flames that began to creep up his legs towards his chest. Recklessly, he charged at the kneeling giant.

"I was talking to both of you!" Ember screeched, but Kazan didn't hear her over the roar of the fire in his ears.

The crimson dragon, the entire front half of his body on fire, took a flying leap that carried him into the chest of his opponent. He struck the smoking hole in the chest plate that Flame had blasted earlier, tearing straight through the cracked armour and shooting out the other side like a flaming arrow. The giant howled and fell backwards, crashing to the floor almost on top of Ember, who dodged out of the way just in time.

Kazan skidded to a halt on his stomach across the other side of the arena, leaving a scorched skid mark in his wake. Scales smoking, he rolled onto his side to relieve the burning sensation on his belly scales. Ember approached the fallen giant wearily, hoping it was dead but not entirely convinced it was. Her worries were proved right when the giant rolled onto his side and made to push himself back upright, using his sword as a crutch. The pink dragoness leapt backwards with a yelp.

"Oh, no you don't!" Flame yelled, charging forward and blasting the sword right out of its hand with a concentrated burst of flame.

The blade skittered away and disappeared in a flash of light, and the giant crashed back down onto its stomach. With a groaned, it raised its head and reached out towards Flame and Ember. But, before its skeletal fingers could reach them, it dissolved right before their eyes into shining embers that floated up and away into darkness.

Panting, the two dragons looked at each other and smiled, their hearts still hammering madly. A groan interrupted them, and Ember spun around in alarm to see Kazan still lying on his side across the arena.

"Kazan!" she called, hurrying over to him, "Are you alright?"

"…'m fine," he grunted, picking himself up from the scorched ground and wincing as his raw belly scales twinged painfully. His crimson scales were still smoking. "Did we kill it?"

"Yeah, it's dead," Flame grunted, snorting smoke from his nostrils.

"Look," Ember said suddenly, pointing. Across the arena, the rune for fire had lit up with a fierce red glow. For the first time, the three fire dragons noticed that all the runes around the arena were shining.

"Guess that means everyone has completed the trials," said Flame thoughtfully, frowning, "Now we just need to find a way to get out of here."

"I think that's already been taken care of," Kazan pointed out, his head raised to the sky. From the darkness, a platform was slowly descending towards the centre of the arena, ready to take the three dragons back.

"Guess that Chronicler guy thinks of everything," Flame remarked grudgingly as the three of them jumped up onto the platform. Tongues of fire flickered around them, warming their scales welcomingly as the platform carried them up into darkness.

"You're back!" Spyro cried out when the three fire dragons materialised in the room seconds later. Behind them, the door to the fire trial snapped shut and the standing stones shattered into several pieces.

"Don't tell me we're the last ones back," Kazan groaned, noticing that everyone else was already in the room, waiting. Saffron smirked smugly at him.

"That's what you get for arguing so much," Ember sniffed, tossing her head. Flame rolled his eyes.

"Now what?" he asked Spyro, "We've completed the trials…so?"

The purple dragon hesitated and glanced warily at the platform in the centre of the room. The candles surrounding it had flickered to life, tiny flames dancing eerily to a silent song. Spyro took a deep breath and approached the platform.

"There's one more thing left to do…" he murmured, garnering the curious stares of everyone else.

"Haven't we done enough?" Zannak groaned. Saffron nudged him and shook her head. She could tell Spyro was uneasy about something, and it worried her.

The dragons were all so on edge that, when the disembodied voice filled the room, they all jumped.

_Ghosts that linger in your heart_

_Manifestations of the dark_

_Surrender, let them reappear_

_And face alone your greatest fear._

"I don't like the sound of that…" Flame growled, pawing the floor nervously.

"I think we all need to do this," Spyro sighed, sitting down beside the now glowing platform, "Everyone, come here."

Despite their misgivings, the dragons all followed Spyro into the centre of the room until they were sitting in a tight circle around the glowing platform. Cynder looked quizzically at the purple dragon, waiting for instruction. He seemed hesitant for reasons she wasn't sure of.

"On…on the count of three," Spyro said, taking a deep breath, "Put your paw on the platform. Ready?"

They exchanged uneasy glances, but no one argued. Spyro took another deep breath to calm his twinging nerves and counted slowly.

"One…"

Ember huddled closer to Flame, and he extended a wing around her shoulders.

"Two…"

Saffron met Kazan's eyes, and they glinted reassuringly in response.

"Three."

As one, the eight dragons lifted their paws and placed them on the ice cold surface of the glowing platform. Spyro's eyes met Cynder's for one brief second before white light engulfed them all. When it faded, the dragons were gone, and the empty room left no trace that they had ever been there at all.

**A/N: The Celestial Caves is my favourite level in TLOS, so I had to write a nice long chapter about it. :P Anyone else got a favourite level? You might notice the weird poems are different from how they were in the game...well, I wanted to write my own. So I did. Also, yay Dreadwings!**

**There's every chance that Spyro and co. won't be in next chapter, but that's still up in the air at the moment. There's a few things I need to catch up on with the other characters, so we'll see... Also, I'm going away for a week come Feb 4th, so you're gonna have to wait a bit longer for the next chap, I'm afraid. Until then, thanks everyone for the amazing 400 reviews! You have no idea how much it means to me. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.** **:)**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: And I'm back! So, like I said last chapter, Spyro and co. aren't in this one. But I hope you enjoy it anyway... This would have been up earlier, but I lost my soul to a certain manga/anime called One Piece and I haven't gotten it back yet... Curse my friend for getting me addicted to it. I know, let's play 'spot the classic Spyro reference'! Go nuts.  
**

**21.**

Orpheus sat on the cold floor, his back resting against the smooth wall as he fiddled mournfully with the dagger that usually sat at his hip, hidden within the folds of his rust-coloured tunic. Around him, most of the other panthers were mingling about outside the massive doors to the stateroom, watched by the glaring gemstone eyes of the carved dragonhead. Behind those closed doors, Orpheus knew that Skelos and the other two assassins—Silt and Agra—were speaking with the Dreadwing king at this very moment.

The young panther glared at the sharp silver of his dagger, a very bitter feeling settled inside his chest. He knew he was young and inexperienced, and didn't have the wisdom of the other assassins, but that didn't stop him from feeling bitterly indignant. He was an Elite Guard too, regardless of his age and the short amount of time he'd spent as one. It seemed hardly fair that he should be forced to sit out here like a common warrior while the other assassins stayed by Master Skelos' side.

Sighing through his nose, Orpheus leant forward to dig the tip of his dagger absent-mindedly into the cold, stone floor. It was smooth and slippery, and his blade left no mark upon its unmarred, dark surface. Scowling, the young panther rested his chin in his hand, propping his elbow up on his knee. Irritated, olive green eyes roved uninterestedly through the dark hall.

The other panthers paid him no heed. Perhaps they thought, as an Elite Guard, he was too intimidating. Or perhaps they thought he was too conceited to mingle with the likes of the common warrior. That seemed more likely, Orpheus thought bitterly. A creeping sadness pricked at his gut, and he shifted uncomfortably.

'_This sucks…'_ his inner voice muttered as he glared at the ground, _'Skelos doesn't need me, these guys don't even look at me… What good is there in being an Elite Guard if no one even pays you any attention? I might as well be invisible.'_

With a soft groan that nobody else heard, Orpheus pushed himself to his feet and slipped his dagger back in its sheath. A few panthers glanced at him indifferently, but looked away again before he could meet their eyes. Leaving his sword-staff propped up against the wall, Orpheus began to pace.

His absent-minded steps took him down the length of the hall, which he noticed was lined down the centre with the same red carpet that had been in the stateroom. It was old and tattered, but at least not as cold as the bare stone floor. Violet light seeped in through the arched, stained-glass windows. Glumly, Orpheus strode over to one.

There was little he could see through the thick purple glass, just light and shadow, and the occasional flash of what must have been lightning. Resting his arms on the windowsill, he instead inspected the glass itself. Veins of different shades of purple crept through the glass, creating odd, incidental patterns that his eyes followed lazily. The patterns, he realised after a moment, were reminiscent of dragon scales. Instantly his thoughts turned to the purple dragon.

Where was he now, Orpheus wondered? Had he stayed in Warfang after the battle? Or had he continued his interrupted quest and, if so, had he already reached the legendary dragon they called the Chronicler? What if he had already done so, and was now back in Warfang helping prepare defences or even counterattacks against their enemies?

'_Enemies…'_ Orpheus thought with a sigh, _'Us…'_

A distant rumble of thunder reached his ears and he looked up in time to see a drop of rain trail down the glass on the other side of the window. The young panther watched its progress mournfully, his eyes clouded with dismal thought.

It was strange how things ultimately played out, he thought. All they had wanted was to return to Avalar, and yet somehow they had made themselves enemies of the dragons. How had that happened? The dragons had nothing to do with Avalar. Warfang should have been the least of their worries.

'_We could have been in Avalar by now,' _Orpheus mused, _'but the cheetahs would not accept us. At least, that was what Skulk and Skelos always told us.'_

A deep scowl creased his forehead, _'They sure wouldn't accept us now, after we tried to kill their chief…set fire to their huts…'_

Orpheus's shoulders drooped. Why hadn't they just tried to negotiate with the cheetahs in the first place? All of this could have been avoided. Couldn't it? But then he scowled again, a memory surfacing in the back of his mind.

'_To protect the honour of our ancestors…'_

Yes, that's what the twins had said. To protect honour… Years ago, the panthers had lost the battle for Avalar. It would be an insult to the memories of all those who had fought in that battle to simply surrender to the cheetahs. It was their duty to succeed where their ancestors had failed, to take Avalar for their own. It could have all been so simple…

So why had the dragons gotten involved?

Rain was streaming down the window now, under the sad, thoughtful watch of Orpheus. Nothing seemed simple anymore. He had spent his whole life in the badlands, where life had been so uncomplicated – it was all just a matter of living day by day and making the best of what the land could offer them. They had been untouched by the war, hidden from Malefor's cruel eye amongst a land that was both barren and unwelcoming. But they had thrived in the harsh peace that the Badlands had offered them.

They had grown by incredible amounts, become smarter, tougher, and sturdier. Living outside the boundaries of war had allowed them to do so, to grow and evolve beyond what their ancestors had once been. But the Badlands was all they knew, the simplicities of a life away from other sentient species all they had ever known. Despite all the growth their tribe had done, there had been something they had missed.

But the cheetahs, who had lived and fought in an age of war, had grown in different ways. Their numbers had suffered greatly, but they had become hardened by war, reliable and resourceful in a land where danger was everywhere. And, unlike the panthers, they had learned to work together with another species for the greater good of their kind.

And that, Orpheus was sure, was why things were so complicated now – and why the dragons had become involved in a battle that was not meant to be theirs. This world was not the same as the one their ancestors had lived in. It had been warped and changed by war, a war that had completely bypassed those living peacefully in the Badlands. And it was something that the panthers just simply could not understand.

Maybe, Orpheus thought, even though they had suffered in the war, the cheetahs had evolved in even greater ways than their panther counterparts. Their tribe was small and weak, true, but what they lacked in strength and numbers they made up for with something far more valuable. An alliance and friendship with the most revered and powerful beings in the world.

'_Maybe _we're_ the ones who have fallen behind, after all…_'

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Orpheus stepped away from the window and plodded back towards the stateroom. He was ignored by the other panthers as he slipped past them towards the door. For a moment he considered opening it just a crack and taking a peek, but decided against it. He wasn't sure if he had enough courage to spy on Skelos and the Dreadwings, anyway.

But suddenly, to his great surprise and excitement, the door creaked open. Agra stepped out, Silt close behind him, and motioned for silence. Orpheus shut his mouth before the rush of questions could escape and nodded quickly. As Agra and Silt moved aside, he caught a glimpse of the stateroom through the crack in the doors. He could see Skelos, standing with his back to the doors, apparently still speaking with the Dreadwing.

"…one more thing," Orpheus heard his leader say, "What I said earlier…about _that_ dragon…"

"Yes," came the malevolent reply of the king, setting Orpheus's teeth on edge, "I believe he may be quite useful…"

A deep, cruel chuckle filled the room and Orpheus knew it was coming from the Dreadwing. He barely suppressed a shudder at the sound that so reminded him of dripping acid.

"Thank you for your generosity, King Orroch," Skelos murmured respectfully. Orpheus caught a glimpse of the panther leader turning towards the door and quickly sidestepped out of the way. He didn't want Skelos to know that he'd been listening.

"Don't disappoint me, Skelos," Orroch's cruel voice replied, cutting through the silence so strongly that all the panthers heard it, "Though, if you do, I do not have much to lose."

Skelos slipped through the doors and they creaked shut behind him, but not before another Dreadwing followed him out. Orpheus thought he recognised this Dreadwing's blue-grey coat and pale grey wings.

"Good news, my brothers," Skelos said with a grim smile, "We've made an alliance with Orroch and his Dreadwings. He's agreed to lend us as many of his soldiers as we desire."

"In return for what?" Orpheus asked before he could stop himself. He shut his mouth quickly when Skelos turned his eyes on him.

"For a share of the spoils of war, of course," Skelos said with a grin, eyes glinting, "I hear he's got his eye on Warfang."

Orpheus gulped and said nothing more. But his eyes shifted nervously to the thin, crafty face of the Dreadwing that stood beside his leader.

"This is Drehgarr," Skelos told them all, gesturing to the winged beast, "He was one of those who…greeted us upon our arrival. He's here to take us to where the rest of his Dreadwing comrades are roosting, and to relay the king's message to them. If all goes as planned, we'll be back in the Badlands by tonight."

There was much muttering amongst the panthers, but none of the assassins joined in. It had taken them a full three days to reach Concurrent Skies from the Badlands, and the notion of returning by nightfall seemed ridiculous. But they trusted their leader, and there were no arguments other than a few sceptical mutters.

When the murmurs had died down, Drehgarr opened his mouth and uttered a few words in his own language, which to the panthers was nothing more than odd clicking sounds. Skelos bowed graciously to the Dreadwing, extending one hand down the corridor.

"Lead the way."

With a satisfied purr-like sound deep in his throat, Drehgarr did so.

Mari woke shortly after dawn, feeling uncomfortably hot under the blanket she had wrapped herself in for the night. Pushing it away groggily, she lay sprawled across her bed of cushions and let her eyes rove lazily around the room. It took a moment before she remembered she was in Warfang, and not in her ramshackle hut back at the cheetah village. It was another moment later before she remembered that she also had a roommate.

The pantheress sat by the far wall, her knees drawn to her chest and her gaze directed somewhere out the small, arched window beside the door to the balcony. There was a blanket pooled around her feet, and cushions left untouched beside her. She was still wearing her sandy-coloured tunic, unlike Mari who had taken hers off to sleep.

"Have you been up all night?" the cheetah asked concernedly, pushing herself upright and wrapping her blanket around her chest like a crude, strapless dress. Terra flinched and glanced at her, as though surprised she was awake so early, but she looked away again without replying. Mari plodded over to her.

"Are you ok?" she asked gently, kneeling down beside the panther, holding her blanket up with one hand.

Terra stared at her knees, her arms still wrapped tightly around her legs, and murmured quietly, "I couldn't sleep."

Mari sat down heavily beside her, shuffling around until she was comfortable. "Why not?"

A sigh escape the panther's lips, "I just…couldn't stop thinking. About the dragons, the cheetahs…my tribe. It doesn't matter."

She shook her head and looked pointedly away, at the pale blue sky outside the window. Mari watched her for a moment, almost sadly, her tail swishing backwards and forwards uncertainly. Then, pursing her lips in a determined sort of way, she slipped her free arm through Terra's, surprising the pantheress.

"We'll go out today," she said matter-of-factly, eyes twinkling, "Explore the city, meet the dragons and the moles. Hunter can come if he wants but, you know, we can pretend he's not there. It'll be fun."

Terra eyed her uncertainly, still hugging her knees protectively, "Are you sure? I…I won't get in your way?"

Mari rolled her eyes, "As if. Who else am I gonna explore this place with? The guys? Come on, just this once. And we can show everyone just how nice you are."

The pantheress smiled hesitantly, "Alright…if you really want to."

"'Course I do," Mari tugged at Terra's arm and stood up, "Now, c'mon. Let's go wake up the guys. Once I get dressed, I mean."

Her blush shone through her pale fur as she scampered across the room to retrieve her tunic from where she had left it hanging on the bookshelf. Once she had wriggled into the pale blue material and fastened her white belt around her middle, she turned back to Terra, smoothing down the messy fur on her head with a paw. Terra couldn't help but smile.

"Someone's got bed-fur," she teased lightly, pulling herself to her feet with one paw on the windowsill. Mari blushed sheepishly.

"Shush!" she whispered, hastily flattening her pale yellow fur, and then added in a rueful murmur, "This happens every morning. I usually have to put up with Cougar's wisecracks about it, too."

The cheetah grimaced, and Terra considered her curiously. It took her a moment to work up the courage to ask the next question on her mind, but she did so hesitantly. "Um…if I may ask…what sort of relationship do you have with him?"

"Cougar?" Mari giggled, "He's my cousin. But I grew up with him, really, so he's more like an older brother. Though, sometimes he acts like he's younger than I am."

"Oh," Terra was glad her dark fur hid her embarrassed blush. She knew she should have suspected from the way the two cousins argued, and was mildly surprised that she hadn't. Mari, however, didn't seem to mind at all.

"Come on!" she said brightly, already halfway to the door, "What are we waiting for? If I know those guys, Hunter was up hours ago and Cougar's still snoring his lazy head off. Let's go jump on him."

It turned out that Mari did indeed know the two males well. They found Hunter pacing outside in the hallway when they left the room, and Terra knew that it was his suspicions of her that had prompted him to do so. But he greeted them politely nonetheless, though Terra guessed he had been up since well before dawn. Maybe it was the tired look in his eyes that told her, the same look the pantheress knew she was currently sporting.

"Is Cougar up?" Mari asked up as they walked together towards the room beside hers.

Hunter shook his head, "He won't rise until the sun is halfway in the sky."

"Not unless someone makes him get up," the female cheetah grinned and scampered through the door.

Terra lingered outside nervously, shuffling her paws nervously and well aware that Hunter wasn't willing to leave her alone for even the smallest amount of time. Though she made a point of not looking at him, she could feel his eyes lingering on her. Anxious under his scrutinising gaze, she absently flattened out the creases in her tunic with a paw.

"Did you sleep well?" the question cut through the thick silence so unexpectedly that Terra jumped, her eyes flying up to meet aqua-green. Hunter didn't see fit to repeat the question, and the pantheress had the feeling he was only trying to be polite to ease the tension. She quickly stammered an answer.

"N-not really… I had a lot on my mind."

"I'm not surprised," the cheetah grunted, folding his arms and leaning against the wall, "You've had an eventful few days. Not to mention that you're deep in unfamiliar territory, amongst creatures your tribe considers to be enemies. If I had been in your place, I would not have slept at all."

Terra found those words to be hardly comforting, and she rubbed her arms awkwardly, wondering how to respond. She was saved from having to do so, however, when there came a commotion from inside the room and Mari poked her head out of the door.

"He's awake!" she said brightly, and Terra thought she heard an aggravated, half-asleep voice mutter "bloody hell…" somewhere behind the cheetah. The pantheress stifled a smile behind her paw.

"I think that's a new record," Hunter smirked, and Terra realised with a jolt that this was the first time she had seen him smile. He looked so much more approachable when he was smiling, somehow so disarming, and she found herself feeling suddenly at ease. While she pondered this, Mari stepped aside to allow a still half-asleep Cougar to appear in the doorway.

"What's the rush?" he grumbled, rubbing his face with a paw and causing the fur on the top of his head to stick up. Mari grinned and reached up to tussle it.

"We're going to explore the city," she told him as he slapped her paw away.

"Who said I was coming?" Cougar growled, pushing her lightly, "Go do what you want, I'm going back to sleep."

He made to turn away, but Hunter called him back sharply. Groaning, the stocky feline waved a nonchalant paw at the cheetah captain.

"You can deal with it, Hunter," he yawned, "It's too early for me. Not like it's too much for you to handle or anything, _cap'n_."

Ignoring the mocking tone with which he'd spoken the title, Hunter replied grimly, "If I asked you to accompany me, you realise it would be an order. I outrank you, Cougar."

"Obviously," Cougar muttered, "captain is the _only_ rank. Other than chief, of course. Let me have a lie in, just this once?"

"'Just this once' is going to turn into 'every morning we're still here', isn't it?" Hunter sighed, but relented, "Very well, since you're so insistent. You're right of course, it's nothing I can't handle."

Terra knew full well that they were talking about her. It made her feel decidedly uncomfortable, like they were speaking as though she was nothing more than an inanimate object, or something not intelligent enough to understand them.

"Cocky bastard," Cougar grumbled, though there was a teasing note to his voice as he shut the door in their faces. Hunter turned away, shaking his head.

"Perhaps not a new record," he said with a rueful smile, "At least he's reliable when things are urgent."

"But when they're not, he's just lazy," Mari quipped, impatiently linking her arm through Terra's, "Let's go, come on!"

"Why the sudden urgency, it's barely past dawn!" Hunter laughed, "I doubt the dragons are even up yet."

Terra had to agree with him there as Mari pulled her impatiently down the hallway. But she'd hardly opened her mouth to say so, when the cheetah uttered a cheerful retort.

"Then at least we'll be first in line for breakfast!"

Hunter sighed and trailed after her. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

Early morning also found two wind dragons sitting awake inside their room in the infirmary. Zephira sat very still as a mole circled around her, inspecting every scale with a scrutinising eye. He prodded at every scar on her body, stretched out her mangled wing to inspect the tattered membrane, and even put his ear against her chest to listen to her heartbeat. Myst sat beside her impassively, unable to see but aware of what was going on.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, the mole stepped back and removed his glasses from where they had sat on the bridge of his nose. Zephira waited expectantly for him to speak.

"Well, it would appear that you have both made a…ahem," the mole coughed and fiddled with his glasses, "…satisfactory recovery."

Zephira noticed he didn't say 'full recovery'. But that was no wonder, she thought, glancing sadly from her mangled wing to Myst's sightless eyes. Still, she couldn't suppress a tremor of excitement at the realisation she could finally leave the infirmary. The white-washed walls and depressingly plain rooms had been starting to bother her.

"However…" the mole continued hesitantly, and the wind dragoness felt her hopes drop a peg, "I am aware that both of you have been previously living alone?"

"That's…that's right," Zephira murmured, feeling as though a spike of ice had just been driven straight through her heart. She hadn't been living alone at all, but she knew that when she at last returned to her room she would find it empty. Ciro wouldn't be there, waiting for her, like he always had. But she didn't have the strength to say this to the mole.

The mole sighed, "I am sorry to say this but, judging by your conditions, I should think it unwise to allow the two of you to return to living on your own without a caretaker. Myst especially will need someone to care for her as she can no longer see."

Zephira's head shot up, "I can do that! I've been caring for her while we've been here!"

A hopeful looked bloomed on Myst's face, "Oh, oh please. I would like to stay with Zephira."

The mole rubbed the lenses of his spectacles uncertainly, "I'm sorry, girls, but Zephira is much too young to be burdened with the duty of caretaker, especially when she herself suffers from a…disability."

"Myst isn't a burden!" the wind dragoness argued hotly, "She's my friend!"

"Yes, yes, of course," the mole said quickly, looking embarrassed, "But we can not expect two disabled young dragonesses to live and survive on their own. Until someone is willing to take you in, you may have to stay here indefinitely…"

Zephira scowled at the use of the word 'disabled', flexing her mangled wing irritably. This hardly seemed fair. Just because she couldn't fly didn't mean she couldn't take care of herself. And just because she was young didn't mean she couldn't take care of Myst, too! But it didn't seem like this mole was about to agree with her.

Drawing herself up, Zephira announced in a clear, determined voice, "I want to see the guardians."

Myst's head swung towards her, surprise crossing her scarred face, and the mole's eyes bugged in alarm.

"Y-You do?" he stammered, almost dropping his spectacles in surprise.

"Yes," Zephira's eyes were steely, and her voice left no question of her determination, "I do."

"N-now?'

"Now."

The mole gaped for a moment, mouthing wordlessly as though trying to find words that had long escaped him. After a moment he seemed to compose himself, and calmly placed his spectacles back on the bridge of his furry nose.

"Very well," he said importantly, "Follow me."

Myst jumped up when she sensed Zephira standing up beside her, and pressed herself against the older dragoness's side. She felt Zephira's good wing drape itself over her back, and raised her head towards where she estimated Zephira's face would be.

"Why do you want to see the guardians?" she asked curiously as the older dragoness led her out the door and into the infirmary corridor.

"Don't worry, Myst," Zephira insisted, walking briskly after the mole, "I'll get us out of this depressing infirmary, no matter what anyone else says. I'm sure the guardians will see sense."

"Oh…" Myst sighed against her shoulder, "I hope they don't separate us."

"Me too, Myst. In fact, I'll make sure they don't."

It was a long walk to the guardian's quarters from the infirmary, but the mole moved quickly and the dragonesses had to trot to keep up with him. He would stop and wait for them at every corner, then hurry on again on his short, furry legs. Luckily it was still early, so the streets were empty of most other dragons and moles. Soon enough, their destination came into view.

"Wait here, please," the mole said importantly when they came to a stop in front of the tall wooden door. Turning around, he raised a small paw and knocked sharply on the wood.

A moment passed in which nothing happened and the door stayed decidedly closed. Glancing back at the two dragonesses, the mole hesitantly raised a paw to knock again. But then came the sound of heavy footsteps behind the door, and it creaked open in front of them. A large, orange head poked out.

"Er, good morning, Master Thasos," the mole said nervously, wringing his tiny hands. The Fire Guardian seemed surprised to see a mole standing at the foot of his door so early in the morning.

"Good morning," he said politely nonetheless, "What can I do for you?"

For a moment it seemed like the mole had forgotten what he was going to say. Then he cleared his throat and gestured towards the wind dragonesses behind him.

"These two dragons wish an audience with the guardians, sir."

Thasos's warm, brown eyes shifted to the dragons, and he instantly recognised the delicate wind dragoness. A smile creased his surprised face.

"Zephira," he greeted, "What brings you here so early?"

She smiled apologetically, "Sorry for the suddenness, Master Thasos, but we needed to speak with the guardians about something."

"We?" Thasos blinked, bemused, until his eyes picked out the smaller white dragoness huddled against Zephira's side. "Oh! You have a friend. Oh, well, do come in. It isn't polite to leave one's guests standing outside…"

The guardian stepped aside, allowing the mole and the dragonesses to step into the room, closing the door softly behind them. He turned around to find Zephira looking at him expectantly, and the mole fiddling with his spectacles anxiously. Thasos smiled welcomingly.

"Make yourselves at home," he told them, "I will fetch the other guardians. I won't be too long."

Zephira sat down in the middle of the embroidered carpet to wait, curling her tail around Myst's protectively. The mole seemed stressed, shifting from paw to paw nervously, his spectacles threatening to slip off the end of his nose. Her jaw set, Zephira spent the next few minutes rehearsing in her head what she was going to say to the guardians. It was nerve-wracking for a shy dragoness such as herself, but she was determined.

'_Just think…'_ she told herself firmly, _'what would Ciro do in this situation?'_

She could see his jaunty, winning smile in her mind's eye, a twinkle in his eyes as his silver tongue quickly won over the guardians. A sad smile touched her snout and she stared at her paws, eyes half-lidded. His laugh echoed in her head, a memory of happier days.

'_I have to be brave for Myst. Brave like Ciro.'_

"I am surprised to see you here so early, Zephira," said a deep voice, and the wind dragoness jumped in surprise, her head shooting up. Terrador smiled down at her, and she wondered how he had approached so quietly. Behind him, Volteer and Cyril were following Thasos down the stairs towards them.

"Volteer, open the door," Cyril sniffed frostily, "It's far too stuffy in here."

"Were there not guests present, I would not hesitate to affront your pretentiousness and demand that you complete such menial tasks with your own two paws, Cyril," the electricity guardian grumbled, but lumbered over to open the door anyway.

"What can we do for you?" the earth guardian asked, a curious rumble in his voice. Zephira glanced sideways at Myst and saw that her sightless eyes were pointed squarely at Terrador's chest, listening intently to his every word.

"We—" Zephira started to say, but before she could get another word in the mole interrupted her.

"Forgive us for the intrusion, good guardians," the furry creature said importantly, pushing his spectacles back before they could slip off, "But it would appear that we have a bit of a dilemma. As you can see, these two young dragons have recovered sufficiently that we should be pleased to dismiss them from the infirmary. However, their injuries have left them both with permanent disabilities that pose a hindrance to their, er, wellbeing should they be allowed to continue living alone as they have in the past."

"Slow down," Terrador said calmly, and the stammering mole broke off looking flustered, "Allow the young dragonesses to speak for themselves."

Zephira snatched that chance before it could slip away, the words tumbling from her lips all too quickly, "He thinks that we won't be able to look after ourselves because I can't fly and Myst can't see, but I don't believe that! I have always looked after myself, and I've been looking after Myst for days! Please, master Terrador, we don't want to have to stay in the infirmary just because he thinks we can't take care of ourselves!"

"I am a professional healer!" the mole stammered indignantly, "It is not just my opinion—although that should be enough—but the professional opinion of all the infirmary staff that two handicapped young dragons should not be expected to live without a caretaker!"

"I don't need a caretaker!" Zephira argued angrily, "I can take care of myself! I don't need to fly to be able to do that!"

"That's enough," Terrador interrupted before the mole could make a retort, "You have both made your point. Now allow us to offer our opinions. Cyril?"

Zephira held her breath, feeling Myst trembling beside her.

"I see no reason why young Zephira should not be able to return to her personal quarters and continue living as she had before the…unfortunate events that left her flightless," Cyril spoke swiftly and formally, as he always did.

"Yes, yes, for once I must be of the same opinion as Cyril," Volteer added quickly, "The absence of Zephira's ability to fly should not hinder her life in any other way, and as such I perceive no necessity for a caretaker of any kind."

"I will agree with my fellow guardians," Thasos said with a dip of his head, "However…"

The fire guardian looked pointedly at Terrador, as though he knew they were thinking the same thoughts. The great, green dragon nodded slowly, and Zephira waited tensely for the verdict.

"While you may not require a caretaker, Zephira," Terrador said slowly and as gently as he could, "I am afraid the same cannot be said for your friend. For a blind dragon, especially one as young as her, life without a caretaker is simply impossible. She will need someone to care for her, to be her eyes, to do things for her that she can no longer do."

"_I_ can do that!" Zephira insisted desperately, hugging Myst to her side with her good wing.

But the earth guardian shook his head, "I am sorry, Zephira, but it is irresponsible to saddle a dragoness as young as yourself with the responsibilities of caring for a youngling, especially one that requires so much attention. Until we can find a carer willing to take her in, I am afraid young Myst will have to remain in the infirmary. If you wish to stay with her, I understand."

"But…but…" Zephira gaped wordlessly, horrified. She had been sure the guardians would help; sure that they would see things her way. But she knew that, when a guardian had spoken, there was no changing his verdict. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but she held them back firmly, ignoring the lump in her throat.

"Th-that's not fair," she stammered, voice shaking, "Why can't I take Myst? I'm responsible, I can care for her! And I'm not going to leave her, either! I want to stay with her! I don't want someone else to be her carer! _I_ want to be it!"

"Zephira…" the little, blind dragoness stammered, awe crossing her scarred face. Zephira sniffed loudly as a sob threatened to break from her lips.

"It's not fair! J-just because we can't do things that other dragons can… It doesn't mean we can't take care of ourselves!" A tear escaped from her eye, trickling a swift path down her pale cheeks, and was quickly followed by another, and another. Zephira drew in a shaky breath, determined to hold back the sobs.

"C…Ciro would have argued for me!" she cried, her voice breaking, "H-he would have stood up for me! B-but he's not here anymore, so I have to do it myself! A-and I won't let you separate me and Myst! I won't!"

The guardians seemed at an utter loss to what to do with a sobbing, angry dragoness. Her violet eyes were tear-filled, but shining with a determined fire that blazed through the sheen of sadness. Thasos attempted anxiously to soothe her, despite the furious look on her face and the tears that streaked her cheeks.

"Please, Zephira, you must understand that we only have your best interests at heart," the fire guardian insisted, "If you want so much to stay with Myst, we will not hold you back. However, until we can find someone who will take the both of you in, I'm afraid the infirmary will have to be—"

"I can take them."

Everyone in the room jumped, Thasos broke off, and they all stared sharply at the doorway, which was currently filled by a tall, navy blue dragoness. Selador looked around the room, taking in everything from the nervous mole by the fireplace, to Zephira's tear-streaked face and the shaking Myst huddled under her wing.

"Well, well, it looks like you _have_ been busy this morning," the earth dragoness smiled with a twinkle in her yellow-green eyes, "I just came by to ask if you wanted to join me for breakfast. What's all the fuss for?"

"Never mind that," Thasos stammered, staring at her incredulously, "Did…did I hear you correctly before? You will take the young ones?"

Selador looked bemused, as though she hadn't expected his incredulity, "Of course. I'd be honoured to have them. My quarters are more than large enough for the four of us."

"Four?" Cyril echoed curiously, raising a frosty brow. Selador's smile just widened and she stepped aside. A small, black and white cannonball shot out from behind the navy dragoness and stopped just short of cannoning into Zephira and Myst.

"Myst! Zeph!" the cannonball cried, bouncing on the pads of his paws. It took a moment for Zephira's eyes to focus on his ever-moving form.

"Domino!" Myst gasped, recognising his voice instantly. A wide grin spread across the black and white dragon's face.

"I promised Roku I'd take his younger brother in until he returned from his trip," Selador said fondly, watching the bouncing, excitable dragon, "I think he'd be happy to have Zephira and Myst join us. He hasn't stopped talking about the two of them since yesterday, after all."

"You don't say," Thasos said bemusedly, and then smiled warmly, "Well, I think this works out nicely, don't you, Terrador?"

"Yes," the earth guardian agreed solemnly, a faint smile cracking his formerly stoic mask, "We could not ask for anything better than for those two young dragonesses to be around friends after all they have been through."

Zephira was busy wiping her face with a paw, embarrassed by the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks, "Y-you mean, Myst and I can stay together? And we don't have to stay in the infirmary?"

"Goodness, of course you don't!" Selador laughed lightly, and knelt down beside the young wind dragoness, raising her head with the barb of her wing. Zephira's teary eyes blinked back at her, full of both embarrassment and hope. "I'd never leave two lovely dragonesses to suffer in that dreary place for so long. My home will be your home, for as long as you need me. Both of you. And Domino, too, of course."

She winked at the bouncing black and white dragon, who giggled excitedly. Zephira sniffed and blinked away the last of her tears, a smile breaking through. She glanced down at Myst, still pressed warmly against her side.

"Did you hear that, Myst? We've got a home!"

The little white dragoness smiled softly, "A home…"

Her sightless eyes turned towards Selador, or at least where she estimated the navy dragoness to be.

"Thank you," she whispered, the gratitude in her soft voice unmistakable, "Thank you so much. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stay with Zephira."

"No one would ever dream of trying to separate you two," Selador assured her, and then turned her sharp yellow-green eyes on the mole, "Would they?"

"N-No, ma'am!" the mole stammered, and added quickly, "I, er, have some things to attend to, good guardians. Thank you for your time! Good day!"

Then he hurried out at the door as fast as his little legs would carry him. Thasos chuckled, and Selador gave a grin more reminiscent of a feisty young dragoness than her usual collected self. Zephira found herself smiling back, that look on Selador's face reminding her fondly of Saffron, wherever she was.

"Such a moving, heart-warming, touching solution to a rather complicated situation, eh Terrador?" Volteer chuckled, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Well, I think we've had enough drama for the morning," Selador announced brightly, "Back to what I originally came here for… What say you to joining me for breakfast? Of course, you young ones are welcome to join us, too."

Zephira's eyes shone like the sun itself, "We'd love to."

The Great Hall was, to put it mildly, huge. Mari estimated her whole village could fit inside, and then some, and Terra quietly agreed with her. But Hunter, who had seen it many times before, hardly seemed impressed by its colossal size. There weren't many dragons in the hall, only a few early morning risers, and somehow the emptiness made it seem all the more massive.

"Who _builds_ stuff this big?" Mari marvelled as they entered the hall and found a seat at the end of one of the long tables that spanned the entire length of the hall.

"The moles," Hunter said bluntly, and Terra noticed he deliberately refrained from sitting down until she had done so. And she was sure he wasn't just being polite.

"They built this whole city years ago," he explained, sitting down on a cushion with his legs crossed, "Long before the Dark Master himself was even hatched. They say it was in honour of their friendship with the dragons. Dragons were very revered back in those days before Malefor."

"What about _after_ Malefor?" Terra asked quietly, and Hunter looked sharply at her.

The pantheress knew very little about dragons, only what gossip had been passed around the panther tribe. She had heard of the Dark Master and of Cynder, but of the dragon species itself she knew very little. What were they really like, she wondered? Were they cunning and crafty like her own species, or honourable and just? And how had they reacted when one of their own turned against them?

"We can only assume that the dragons lost much respect after the rise of the Dark Master," Hunter said grimly, folding his paws on the table in front of him, "They did in the cheetah tribe, and it took many hundreds of years for our relations with them to improve. I believe Spyro can be thanked for much of that. Thanks to him, much of the dragon race, and the purple dragon, were redeemed in the eyes of my tribe. After Malefor, any purple dragon was considered to be a threat, until Spyro changed that view."

"This…_Spyro_," Terra hesitated, "He is…the young purple dragon?"

"Yes," Hunter said slowly, scrutinising her, "Tell me, how much does your tribe know of him?"

"I-I don't know exactly," the pantheress stammered, looking uncomfortable, "Our tribe is a big one, and the masters don't share all of their knowledge – except with their Elite Guard. But the discovery of the young purple dragon was so unexpected that it spread through the entire village, like gossip usually does. We were never told his name though, but it is popular belief that the masters want to get rid of him as soon as possible, in case he turns out to be too much of a threat. I think they're afraid he'll turn out like the Dark Master…"

She trailed off upon seeing the dark look in Hunter's eyes and chewed her lip nervously.

"Spyro is their target?" he growled after a moment, tapping his unsheathed claws on the tabletop. Terra wilted under his gaze.

"W-well, it's only speculation!" she stammered quickly, "But I…I did hear the masters talking personally…they said they needed to do something about him. But I'm afraid I don't know what. I don't think they even know if he's in the city or not."

Hunter sighed heavily, "I do not know myself, though I expected he would be. We should inform the guardians of this. They will want to know if Spyro is in any danger. Besides that, what is this Elite Guard you mentioned?"

Terra relaxed; that was an easy question. "A group of six, well-trained panthers who are loyal only to the twin leaders of our tribe. Informally, they are known as the assassins. The masters trust them more than any others, and they are usually trusted with the most dangerous or difficult tasks. They're pretty closed off…no one really tries to get close to an Elite Guard. I never knew any of them personally."

"I see…"

"Can we, you know, talk about something less gloomy?" Mari cut in uncomfortably.

Hunter gave her a stern look, "It is important that we learn as much as we can about the panthers if we are to face them in battle."

"But can't you talk about it some other time?" the female cheetah grumped, folding her arms with a scowl, "At least not over breakfast."

"Fine," Hunter sighed, rubbing his temples as though to relieve himself of a headache, "We'll save it for later. But later this afternoon, I want to hear everything you know about your tribe, Terra. Understand?"

The pantheress nodded mutely. Breakfast was a quiet affair after that. They ordered from the moles and sat watching as the Great Hall slowly filled with dragons, some more awake than others. The young ones especially seemed half-asleep in their breakfast, no doubt lamenting another school day listening to Cyril prattle on about the finer points of dragon history. Soon the hall was filled with chatter that bounced between tables like balls being tossed to and fro.

"Do you think the whole population of Warfang is here?" Mari wondered in amazement as she observed the sea of glistening, multi-coloured scales.

A good-natured laugh caught her attention and she turned to the dragon sitting a little way down the table beside her. He had brilliant yellow scales, like chips of topaz, and wings so violently blue they looked almost charged with electricity.

"This place might be big, but I doubt even it could fit all the dragons of Warfang," said the yellow dragon with a friendly grin. Mari assumed he was in his prime, as he seemed full grown but not nearly as old as the guardians. "Breakfast is pretty staggered out, not everyone comes at the same time, and some dragons don't even eat meals here. A lot of them eat at home instead, but I like the company. The name's Naxos, by the way, I don't think we've met."

"Mari," the cheetah said brightly, holding out her hand to shake Naxos's paw—which was twice as big.

"A pleasure," Naxos said, winking a brilliant blue eye, "We don't see many cheetahs around these parts. I take it you're from Avalar?"

Mari nodded eagerly, "Yeah. Oh, and this is Terra…"

She gestured to the pantheress sitting on the other side of her and Naxos did a double-take, the look in his eyes changing from carefree to cold, hard steel in an instant. Terra winced when she met his gaze, but barely a second later the cold hardness in his eyes disappeared to be replaced with innocent curiosity. Mari blinked, wondering if she had imagined it.

"So, you're the panther that the whole city has been talking about!" the yellow dragon exclaimed without a hint of hostility, "Never thought I'd see you here! Thought you'd be holed up in one of the rooms with guards at your door, or something."

"Naxos!" a green dragoness scolded from the other side of the table.

"What?" the yellow dragon asked carelessly, glancing over at the dragoness, "I'm just sayin'. What, did _you_ expect a panther to be freely walkin' around here after what happened not so long ago? Dragons _died_ in that battle!"

"She might be a panther but that's no way to talk to her!" the green dragoness argued hotly, eyes flashing, "How do you even know she played a part in that battle?"

"I'm sorry," Terra said quietly, and Naxos's head snapped towards her again.

"You're…what?" The yellow dragon blinked bemusedly.

"I'm sorry for what my tribe has done," Terra mumbled, not meeting his eyes, "Nothing justifies the attack they led on your city, and nothing ever will. I am so sorry for the lives that were lost in that battle…and I'm sorry for the battles that have yet to come. I am not proud of the things my clan has done and will do, and that is why I am here. I-I am sorry…so, _so_ sorry for the pain we have caused you…all of you."

For a moment Naxos looked lost for words, and just a little ashamed. His wings drooped ever so slightly and he shifted awkwardly in his seat, passing a guilty glance with the green dragoness across the table.

"H-Hey, it's ok," he stammered awkwardly after a moment, looking conflicted, "I'm not…I wasn't blaming you. I guess you can't help what the rest of your tribe wants to do…"

Naxos trailed off lamely, and looked pleadingly to the green dragoness for help. She rolled her eyes and leant across the table towards Terra. The pantheress looked up to meet her eyes, which were kinder and softer than Naxos's had been.

"What my idiot friend is trying to say is that no one can blame you for what the panthers have done," she said gently, "Be ashamed of them if you must, but don't be ashamed of yourself. If you're here to help us fight back against your own tribe, that makes you a very strong panther. There will be those of us who are suspicious of you, but that's to be expected. Just keep doing what you know is right, and I'm sure everyone will come around eventually. I'm Chios, by the way."

"Thank you, Chios," Terra smiled weakly, "Your words mean a lot to me. I promise I will do all I can to help."

"Wonder where Delos got to," Naxos grunted absently, gazing around the hall, "I'd like to see his reaction to a panther in the city."

Chios rolled her eyes, "Maybe it'd be best if he didn't see her. How long will you be staying in Warfang?"

Terra opened her mouth to reply, but Hunter beat her to it.

"Until her allegiance to us can be proven," he said abruptly, standing up, "And that could be many weeks. If you'll excuse us, we have places to be."

"Hunter!" Naxos exclaimed in surprised, and then looked sheepish, "I, uh, didn't see you there."

The cheetah just nodded stoically and beckoned for Mari and Terra to stand up. They did so a little reluctantly, and bid farewell to the two dragons.

"It was nice to meet you," Terra sighed, a little dejectedly, wishing Hunter hadn't decided to rush them out of the hall so quickly. She would have liked to spend a little more time with the first two dragons she'd had a chance to speak with—other than the guardians themselves, of course. Not to mention that Chios didn't seem to be suspicious of her at all.

"Guess we'll see you around," the green dragoness smiled, waving as the felines trailed after Hunter.

"What's the rush?" Mari complained as Hunter led them out the doors of the Great Hall and into the street.

"Didn't you notice?" the golden-furred cheetah growled, glancing back at the doors, "We were starting to attract far too much attention. Not all dragons will be as readily accepting of Terra as those two. It would be best if we retained a low profile for much of our stay here."

Mari huffed and folded her arms, "Fine. But you don't have to be so stiff about it. What's your problem?"

"Mari…" Hunter turned to her, exasperated, stopping them for an instant in the middle of the street. Terra hung back uncertainly, but the female cheetah glared daggers at him.

"Look," Hunter sighed after a moment, breaking the brief stare-off with Mari, "It's my duty to ensure that the both of you are safe. Many dragons are going to be suspicious of Terra, and it isn't wise to give them a chance to confront her. I'm just doing my job."

"But you're acting like Terra's a prisoner or something!" Mari argued, "Why are you being so uptight around her?"

Hunter uttered a sigh that was more of a growl and turned away, "Let's not linger here any longer."

But Mari stayed put even as the cheetah captain started to walk away. Her eyes flashed angrily and she yelled after him, ignoring the curious dragons and moles that stopped to stare as they passed them in the street.

"It's because you still don't trust her, isn't it?"

Hunter glanced back sharply at her, a guarded look crossing his face, "We are not having this discussion now. Come."

"Hunter!"

But he merely looked away and began to walk down the street. Growling in frustration, Mari grabbed Terra's hand and started to march after him. But the panther hung back, staring at something. Sensing Terra's resistance, Mari stopped and glanced back at her quizzically.

"What is it?"

Terra was staring at something across the street, her shoulders rigid, and Mari couldn't help but follow her gaze. To her surprise, she saw the guardians strolling towards the Main Hall, accompanied by a tall, elegant navy dragoness, and three much younger dragons. The guardians and their guests didn't seem to notice the two felines, until one of the younger ones happened to glance their way.

Her pale, violet eyes fell on Terra and she stopped in her tracks, limbs rigid. The guardians and the other three dragons continued on their way, oblivious that one of their number had fallen behind. Mari and Terra both stared at the young dragoness, who stared back with an odd look on her face.

Terra's keen eyes couldn't miss the numerous scars that criss-crossed across this dragoness's snowy white scales, or the deformed, tattered wing she kept folded tightly against her side. But what she noticed most was the expression in the dragoness's eyes. Whether it was fear or anger, she couldn't tell, but somehow she had a feeling it was a bit of both.

For an instant that seemed to last an eternity, panther and dragon stared at each other from across the street, never breaking their gaze. Then the navy dragoness seemed to notice that one of her charges had stopped, and turned back to call her.

"Zephira!"

The white dragoness winced at the sound of her name, cast Terra a last fleeting glance, and then hurried after the guardians. The navy dragoness welcomed her with a protective wing, and the group continued on their way without another look back. Terra stared after them, dazed, until she felt Mari tugging on her paw.

"Come on," the cheetah murmured, "Hunter's waiting."

The pantheress stumbled dazedly after her, still looking after the white dragoness. Her heart was thundering violently in her chest, and suddenly she felt both ashamed and filthy, like a beast that should never have existed. Could she have imagined the utter revulsion in that dragoness's eyes?

"Did…did you see the way she looked at me?" Terra whispered.

Mari's paw tightened around her own, but she didn't say a word.

The night after Spyro left was a sleepless one for Sparx. He flew in absent-minded circles around the dragonfly village, listening to the sound of the rest of the dragonflies settling down for the night within their tiny nests. His parents tried to convince him to sleep in his old nest, but the yellow dragonfly had waved them off, telling them he didn't need much sleep and that's he'd settle down when _he_ wanted to and not a moment sooner.

But it was nearing midnight now, and Sparx hadn't even tried to sleep. He hovered at the outskirts of the village, staring up at the twin moons as their pale light crept through the dense foliage that covered the swamp, and wondered where Spyro was now. If he'd reached the Chronicler… if he was in trouble… if he was staring at those same moons at this very instant and thinking about his dragonfly brother.

Scowling, Sparx shook those thoughts from his head. But he knew that sleep was a lost cause for the moment, and left the dragonfly village in search of something to take his mind off his worries. Minutes later, he found himself in the clearing where he and Spyro had spent many a day playing tag or hide-and-seek amongst the mushrooms. Now the clearing was empty, no purple dragon to be seen.

Shoulders drooping, Sparx hovered over to the stunted tree in the centre of the clearing where he had, many times before, hidden from Spyro's seeking eyes. Reaching out a tiny, glowing hand, Sparx laid it against the soft, damp bark of the tree. It was strikingly familiar to his sense of touch.

'_I see you, my little glowing friend.'_

A fond smile tweaked his lips, and he muttered quietly, "When was the last time we played like that, huh Spyro?"

A twig cracked behind him and a voice rang out suddenly through the silence, "Oh…you're still awake."

"Whoa!" Sparx yelled, and flung himself back against the tree in alarm. But then his frightened eyes saw though the gloom and he realised it was just Nadi, the wind dragon they'd met the previous day. His pale bronze scales shimmered with an almost silver sheen in the moonlight. "Oh…it's just you. Don't scare me like that, man!"

"Sorry," Nadi said sheepishly, stepping further into the clearing, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Sparx eyed him suspiciously, peeling himself off the damp bark of the tree, "Yeah, well, what are you doing up anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep," the wind dragon shook his head and sat down heavily beside the tree, wings drooping. The dragonflies had offered him a small bower in which to sleep, where Spyro himself had once spent his nights. It was a little small for a teenage dragon, but Nadi hadn't complained. Sparx glanced sideways at the bronze dragon, still irritated at being snuck up on.

"Guess that makes two of us," he muttered after a moment, resting a hand on the tree trunk again. Nadi looked up at the dragonfly, Sparx's yellow glow playing across his face and lighting up his deep red eyes.

"Are you worried about the purple dragon?"

"_Spyro_ is my brother," Sparx replied a little touchily, "and if it hadn't been for me, he would have lasted nearly as long! Man…"

A heavy sigh left the dragonfly's lips and his shoulders dropped dejectedly, "I kinda wish I hadn't stayed behind. He needs me, man! What was I thinking? Now he's probably in that creepy place with all the spooky moon stuff and the riddles of doom and…I'm not there with him."

Sparx groaned and held a hand to his forehead, "Why am I telling you this?"

"Maybe because you need someone to tell it to," Nadi suggested with a shrug, cocking his head.

"Yeah, whatever."

The wind dragon scuffed the ground with a paw thoughtfully, "You know, you really shouldn't worry. I mean, he's the purple dragon, right? He should be able to take care of himself."

"What makes you think you know anything about him?" Sparx exclaimed, suddenly defensive as he flew closer to Nadi's face, "I was there the whole time, you know! I was there when Cynder tried to kill him, I was there when those freaky bat…_things_ attacked the temple, I was there when that ugly ape dude tried to kill us, heck I was stuck for three years inside a crystal with him! And don't get me started on what happened after that!"

He jabbed Nadi sharply in the nose, "Spyro wouldn't have lasted a second without me!"

"Then why didn't you go with him?"

Sparx faltered, mouth hanging open, and gaped wordlessly for several moments. Nadi eyed him expectantly. Eventually, scowling, the dragonfly turned away and folded his arms, deliberately not meeting the wind dragon's gaze.

"I don't…" he hesitated, as though fighting with something inside him, "I don't know, ok? I don't know. I guess I was just…worried about mum and dad."

Sighing, he rubbed his face with a hand, mumbling dejectedly, "I should be with him."

An awkward silence fell after that, as the mismatched pair sat side-by-side in the shadow of the stunted tree. Moonlight was their only company, but for the barely audible croaking of Frogweed hidden somewhere in the underbrush. It was a mournful sound, but rhythmic and soothing in a way.

After a time, Nadi yawned and stood up, shaking his stiff limbs. Sparx glanced sideways at him, but the bronze dragon didn't seem to notice. Silently, he padded his way to the edge of the clearing, in the opposite direction to the dragonfly village.

"Hey! Where're you going?" Sparx yelled after him, and the bronze dragon stopped to look back.

"Exploring," he said shortly, and then added, "I'm not gonna get any sleep tonight, so I figured a look around wouldn't hurt."

"Watch out for the bulb spiders," Sparx smirked, but Nadi didn't seem at all deterred.

"You coming?" he called to the dragonfly, but Sparx waved a hand dismissively in his direction.

"Nah, I got better things to do."

Shrugging, the wind dragon left the dragonfly to his own devices and slipped into the thick undergrowth of the swamp. He'd only taken a few steps through the muddy slush beneath his paws when a small voice yelled out to him.

"Oi! Wait up!"

Glancing back, he saw Sparx flying towards him and smirked when the dragonfly stopped to hover beside him.

"Guess that means you _don't _have better things to do."

"Ah, shuddup," Sparx grumbled, flitting ahead, "Besides, you wouldn't last a second out there without me."

"I'll take your word for it."

Unspeaking, the two of them wriggled through dense undergrowth until they found a well-worn path that looked as though it was frequented by swamp creatures of a sort. They trailed along it, stepping in pools of moonlight and listening to the night sounds that filled the swamp around them. Eventually, unable to stand the silence, Sparx spoke up.

"So, uh, _where_ are we going?" he asked, a hint of annoyance creeping through.

"Dunno," Nadi replied, stopping to glance down a much more overgrown path that branched off to the left, "You know this place better than I do."

"Right," Sparx grumbled, "What do you want me to do? Give you a grand tour? Not like there's anything to see!"

"Look, I'm just trying to find a way to pass the time. You can either be helpful, or…you can't. Your choice."

"You know, you're starting to remind me of Spyro. And not in a good way."

"Well, what did you and he do when you used to live here?"

Sparx shrugged, "Mucked around, explored…broke dad's rules. C'mon, we were kids, what would you expect?"

Nadi sighed and shook his head, "Never mind, let's just go."

"Go where?" Sparx yelled, flitting after him as he ran ahead.

"I don't know; we'll improvise!"

"Oi… Why don't I like the sound of that?"

That question left unanswered, the dragon and dragonfly spent the next half hour perusing the swamp for anything remotely interesting. But other than a few Frogweed that thought Sparx looked like a tasty snack until Nadi sent them packing, the pair ran into no trouble at all. Nadi was starting to think that he wouldn't mind a bit of trouble to relieve him of his sleepless boredom, when Sparx halted him suddenly.

"Hang on…I know this place," he said suspiciously, as if he thought his memory was playing tricks on him. But then his eyes picked out the white-washed bones that littered the ground ahead of them, shining hauntingly in the moonlight.

"Wh-whoa!" Nadi stammered when he saw what Sparx had seen, "What the heck, it's huge! What the heck is that thing! Or…uh, _was_."

It looked to the bronze dragon like the bones of a giant snake, as long and wide as a river, its massive body curling and twisting out of sight. The skin of the megalith was still mostly in tact, to his awe and disgust, but in places the white bone of its long ribcage poked through. Its massive, flesh-less head lay heavy upon the earth, at least thrice as tall as the wind dragon, hollow eye sockets staring into oblivion. He couldn't help but notice that the gaping, open mouth was void of fangs, though the stumps where they had once been were still there.

"Jeez, never thought I'd come back here again," Sparx muttered, hovering hesitantly closer to the giant skeleton's head, "You know, Spyro and I used to play around here all the time. Dad told us we weren't allowed to go in there, though."

He pointed into the gaping mouth of the skull, where its ribcage, now devoid of internal organs, created a long, damp tunnel into darkness. Nadi edged closer, peering into the gloom with both interest and revulsion.

"Did you?" he asked the dragonfly curiously.

"Are you kidding? 'Course we did! As if I ever listened to what dad told us."

"What happened?"

Sparx shrugged, "A bunch of stuff. Apes, fire… You know, if we'd have never gone in there, Spyro would never have…"

He trailed off uncomfortably and Nadi glanced curiously at him. But Sparx didn't continue his thought, and the bronze dragon had a strange feeling that perhaps he didn't want to. There was a wistful, almost regretful look in the dragonfly's eyes that looked oddly out of place.

"Come on," Nadi said suddenly, jumping up onto the skull's lower jaw and creeping towards the tunnel of its ribcage.

"What, you wanna go in?" Sparx asked incredulously, staying where he was.

"Why not?" the wind dragon called back, "You've done it before. You're not scared are you?"

"Scared? Me?" Sparx scoffed, "Not on your life!"

And, so saying, against his better judgement, the dragonfly flew after him. They stepped into the gloom without a glance back and set off down the damp tunnel, side by side. Nadi grimaced as he found himself dragging his paws through a thin layer of murky liquid that covered the floor of the tunnel. In the dim light that resonated from Sparx, he could make out fungi that had grown in the dark dampness.

"Might want to watch out for Frogweed," he mused to Sparx quietly, "This seems like the sort of place they'd like."

"Please, I can handle a few measly Frog—agh!" the dragonfly squealed with fright as a Frogweed popped out of the ground in front of him, spraying mud and filthy water everywhere. Trembling, Sparx hid behind one of Nadi's horns to avoid the fungus' snatching tongue. "Kill it!"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, the wind dragon charged forward and rammed the Frogweed in the gut, knocking it back several metres. With a groan, the fungus sank back into the mud from whence it had come. Nadi continued out his way as Sparx flew ahead again, the dragonfly pretending that nothing had happened.

The rest of the trip through the tunnel was mostly uneventful, as most Frogweed didn't seem to want to try their luck with a dragon just for a snack of dragonfly. But by the time the end of the tunnel was in sight, Nadi was thoroughly sick of walking through liquid slush.

"Remind me to never do that again," he grimaced, stepping out of the tunnel and shaking sludge off his bronze-scaled paws.

"Whose idea was it, smartass?"

Ignoring him, Nadi took that moment to observe their surroundings. They were in a clearing of sorts, walled on all sides by low cliffs upon which stilted trees grew. He noticed the dark entrance to a cave on the left cliff face, near to the far side of the clearing. Otherwise, the clearing was utterly empty.

"Told you there was nothing to see," Sparx pointed out. Nadi sighed.

"Let's go see where that cave leads," he suggested, walking across the muddy earth towards it.

"Why can't you ever be satisfied?" Sparx groaned, but followed anyway.

The cave, as it turned out, curved in a short bend before opening out onto the swamp again. Nadi stopped outside the mouth of the cavern to looked around, and Sparx hovered impatiently by his head.

"What are we doing here, anyway?" the dragonfly grumbled, "It's just swamp, swamp and more swamp. Let's just go back."

"Wait," Nadi said suddenly and froze. Moments later he added, "Did you hear that?"

Sparx, who hadn't heard a thing, just scowled, "No, and I don't think I want to, either."

The wind dragon didn't seem to notice, musing quietly to himself, "It doesn't sound too friendly. Come on, let's check it out."

"Oh what, so when it doesn't sound friendly we have to check it out? How did I get stuck with you?"

Either Nadi didn't hear or he chose not to respond, and Sparx had no choice but to hover anxiously after him. They hadn't gone far before the dragonfly realised he was in unfamiliar territory, and that didn't sit well with him. He'd never gone this far into the swamp before. And definitely not without Spyro.

"Look, ah, maybe we should go back?" he suggested nervously, jerking a thumb back the way they'd come.

"Soon," Nadi murmured, still listening carefully for the sound he had heard earlier. But the swamp was eerily silent.

"How about _now_?"

But the wind dragon ignored him and trotted ahead, much to Sparx's chagrin. The dragonfly followed nevertheless, wringing his hands nervously. He found Nadi standing at the edge of a small, swampy lake, more like a large puddle among the trees. Wiry swamp plants of some sort grew at the edge of the murky water, perfectly still without a breeze to disturb them.

"Never been here before…" Sparx mumbled, frowning. Nadi just grunted in reply, staring into the murky waters of the lake.

"Dragon in our swamp?  
This is very strange indeed.  
What purpose has he?"

"Uh…did you say something?" Sparx muttered, wondering if he had imagined the voice he thought he'd just heard.

"What?" Nadi cocked an eyebrow, "I didn't say anything."

"Well someone said something." The dragonfly scowled and glanced around at the dark swamp, but nothing caught his eye. "Do you get the feeling we're being watched?"

Nadi backed away from the lake slowly, glancing slyly side to side, "I know what you mean. Shh!"

Sparx shut his mouth quickly and, in the silence that followed, a faint voice reached their ears.

"A dragonfly too,  
What a strange duo they make.  
Should we speak with them?"

"Yeah, I definitely heard it that time," Sparx mumbled.

"Who's there?" Nadi yelled into the dark trees, "Show yourselves!"

Then, to his great surprise, two spots of golden-orange light drifted up from the bulrushes, shining hauntingly through the gloom of night. At first they looked to the bronze dragon like nothing more than formless globs of illumination, and he stared dumbfounded as they drifted closer. Despite their apparent harmlessness, Sparx seemed to think otherwise and shot behind Nadi's head with an alarmed shout.

"Argh, it's the lost eyes of the dreaded swamp bogie! Don't let them near me, they wanna take my soul!"

"What the heck are you talking about?" a bemused Nadi shot back, "They're just little globes of fire or something…"

Indeed, that was exactly what they looked like to the confused dragon, and he had no evidence of them being otherwise. That is, until they spoke.

"We are not of flames  
Though we may appear to be  
Fireflies, we are."

"Oh crap," Sparx whispered from behind Nadi, sounding mortified, "I can hear them speaking to me! I'm doomed!"

"Shut up for a sec," Nadi muttered, peering closely at the glowing balls of light as they—with a hesitant sort of air—drifted closer. Moments later he was able to see what he could not before.

They were not formless balls of light at all, but rather insects that reminded him vaguely of the dragonflies. Their bodies were much shorter and fatter than that of the dragonflies, and their wings were far less tapered. Unlike dragonflies, they were not brightly coloured, instead appearing a dull shade of brown. But what Nadi found most amazing was their fat, glowing tails that exuded an almost fiery light.

"They're bugs," the dragon exclaimed in surprise, "Kind of like dragonflies, Sparx."

The yellow dragonfly chanced a peek around Nadi's horns and replied in an almost indignant tone, "Are you kidding? They look nothing like dragonflies!"

"Well they sure don't look like the 'lost eyes of the swamp bogie'," Nadi shot back with a grin.

"Shut up."

"What did you call yourselves again?" the wind dragon asked the glowing bugs curiously, while Sparx nervously flew out from behind him. He expected a simple, one-word answer. That wasn't the case.

"The swamp is called home  
To flies that are of fire  
Glowing in the night."

"What?" Nadi said blankly, looking from one glowing insect to the next bemusedly. They hovered before him, staring with beetle-black eyes as though expecting an answer. Beside him, Sparx groaned.

"Aw great," he grumbled, "Fireflies. Dad told me about these guys years ago. Never try to get a straight answer out of one of them. They only speak in riddles!"

"Fireflies?" Nadi echoed, them grinned, "You don't say."

"Speak not in riddles  
Unless to confuse those who  
You are speaking to," said one of the fireflies, sounding disapproving.

"We speak in true words  
With the rhythm of the swamp  
To guide what we say," added the second, only achieving in confusing both dragon and dragonfly.

"Aha, sure, well why don't we let you two get on with your 'rhythm' while we go back to our own swamp," Sparx jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "Over that way. Wouldn't want to, uh…_intrude_."

Nadi couldn't miss the sarcasm in the dragonfly's voice and had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Still, they had been out in the dark night of the untamed swamp long enough, and he was about to agree with Sparx when a strange, haunting noise filled the air. A long, low howl, almost hauntingly mournful. Sparx went rigid and Nadi felt the scales on the back of his neck prickle.

"The heck was that?" the dragonfly hissed in a loud whisper, not daring to look over his shoulder to where the noise had come from.

"I think I have a fair idea…" Nadi whispered back, at almost the exact time one of the fireflies spoke.

"The howling lost hound,  
His mournful cry in the night  
Slicing through silence."

The firefly sounded almost miserable with those words, and Nadi shot it a quick, unseen look of curiosity. But whatever the firefly was thinking at that moment, its words had just confirmed the wind dragon's suspicions.

"Does that mean what I think it does?" Sparx asked nervously, wringing his hands. Nadi scowled darkly as another howl ripped through the silence.

"Death Hounds," he growled, "Looks like you were right…they _are_ still hanging around."

Another howl reached their ears, sounding alarmingly close. Sparx's eyes were almost popping with fear.

"H-hey, maybe we should get _out_ of here?" he suggested frantically, "Before they _kill us_!"

"And lead them back to the dragonfly village?" Nadi asked grimly, "Come on, Sparx, wasn't the reason you stayed behind so you could protect your family?"

"Well yeah, but I didn't think we'd have to _fight_ them! _Alone_!" the dragonfly was really panicking now, and he looked torn between staying with Nadi or making a run for it. It seemed the former won, as fear had mostly paralysed him to the spot now.

"Swifter than lightning,  
They appear from the shadows  
Seeking helpless prey."

No sooner had those words been spoken, a loud thundering of paws and the splintering of wood announced the arrival of the Death Hounds. The tree that one of them had collided with in its haste came crashing down with much creaking of wood and cracking of branches as it hit the swampy earth. The hound shook its head dazedly, staggering from the collision.

"Hear that, Sparx?" Nadi muttered, "We'll be the helpless prey soon if we don't do something."

But the dragonfly appeared to have been struck dumb with horror at the sight of the hounds. There were three of them, sniffing around the edge of the clearing and apparently confused by the sound of the tree that had just fallen. Nadi was sure that was the only reason they hadn't attacked yet. But it was only a matter of time before they did, and the wind dragon wasn't confident he could take them all on himself.

"Come on, Sparx," he hissed frantically, "where's all that bravado from earlier today?"

The dragonfly didn't answer, but the fireflies exchanged nervous glances and one of them spoke up again.

"Fireflies do not fight,  
We are but fragile insects,  
Gone to seek shelter."

Then, like arrows from a bow, they shot upwards into the shadows of a nearby tree and were gone from sight. Nadi grunted, but he hadn't expected anything otherwise. His red-eyed gaze was fixed firmly on the hounds, which appeared to have picked up their scent and were now stalking nearer, their lips curling into feral snarls. The wind dragon took a step back.

"I can't do this alone," he hissed to Spark in an almost begging tone.

"What do you expect me to do?" the dragonfly shot back, finally breaking out of his horrified trance, "They'll eat me!"

"Distract them!" Nadi yelled suddenly, shooting forwards without warning, sending clumps of mud flying in every direction. He charged straight into the nearest hound, knocking it back almost a full metre and linking his claws into its thick, putrid hair. It uttered a sharp whimper of shock and writhed under the wind dragon, its scaly tail scoring a glancing blow to the side of his head. But he didn't loosen his grip, sinking his claws in further to draw blood from its tough skin. A growl to his side told him that the other hounds were preparing to charge.

"Sparx!" he yelled desperately, his grip loosening for a brief second—but that was all the hound needed to throw him off. Nadi landed awkwardly on all fours, and didn't get a chanced to regain his balance before something collided with him from the side. His ribs almost buckled under the force of the blow, and he cried out in pain as he was thrown to the earth, mud splashing over his bronze scales. The hound that had struck him skidded to a halt not far from his prone form.

Suddenly a reckless, drawn out yell cut through the silence and Nadi raised his head in time to see a yellow blur rush past him. It circled around the Death Hound nearest to him, then shot off towards the next, screaming all the way. The confused hounds turned to follow him, flattening their ears away from the irritating noise. Nadi couldn't resist a grin as he pushed himself up again.

"Nice one," the wind dragon smirked to himself, turning to the third Death Hound and pawing the earth challengingly. It growled and charged with all the speed of a bolt of lightning, but it never reached the dragon. Bracing himself, Nadi opened his jaws and expelled a concentrated burst of air so strong that it not only tore up the ground in its path, but sent the hound flying into a tree trunk on the other side of the clearing.

The canine whimpered and slid limply to the ground, struggling vainly to get up. Nadi never gave it that chance. Digging his front claws into the earth, he swung his hindquarters in an arc, slashing his lethal tailblade through the air as he did so. The air concentrated around his tail and broke away as deadly, crescent blades. The hound never got the chance to utter a final cry before it was dispatched by the blades of wind.

Nadi allowed himself a smile in victory, but it wasn't over yet. Turning around, he saw the still-screaming Sparx being chased in erratic zigzags all over the clearing by the two remaining hounds. The wind dragon scowled darkly.

"Keep it up!" he yelled to the dragonfly, looking around frantically for something that would help. His eyes fell on a large mushroom tree near the edge of the clearing, its trunk as thick as the burly bodies of the hounds, if not thicker. An idea wormed itself into his brain.

While Sparx led the hounds on a merry dance around the clearing, Nadi hurried over to inspect the thick, white trunk of the tree. It was softer than the trunk of a regular tree, but not by much. Growling to himself, the wind dragon got to work, cutting through the sinewy material with his lethally sharp tailblade. When he was about halfway through it, he whipped his head around and yelled to Sparx.

"Over here!"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaarrgh!" Sparx replied, dodging the snapping teeth of the hound and shooting towards the wind dragon. The instant he passed in front of the mushroom tree, Nadi severed the rest of the trunk with another blade of concentrated wind.

The tree creaked and teetered for a moment on the brink, then fell almost in slow motion, its huge mushroom head dragging it down faster than the wind dragon had expected. Sparx just barely cleared the trunk before it crushed him, but the hounds weren't so lucky. The one that was furthest behind skidded to a halt with a howl, and tried to turn away, but its tail and one of its hind legs were caught under the trunk as it slammed violently into the earth. The other wasn't quick enough, and had no chance to dodge before it disappeared completely under the falling tree with a horrible crunching sound.

Nadi covered his face with a wing as mud sprayed up from the earth, and pieces of the mushroom's head went flying in every direction. The ground shook under his paws when the trunk collided with the earth. When everything had settled, the wind dragon uncovered his face to find that his plan had mostly worked. The last hound was lying half-trapped under the trunk, howling and whimpering with the pain of what was no doubt a broken or crushed leg.

The bronze dragon took pity on the creature, and ended its life with a swift stab to the heart. He was wiping the blood off his tailblade when Sparx flew up beside him, panting heavily.

"Don't…don't _ever_…ask me to do that again."

Nadi grinned, "Hopefully I won't have to. But at least they won't bother us anymore."

Sparx grimaced, "Great. Now let's go back before anything else tries to kill us."

The wind dragon nodded and turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks when two balls of fiery light filled his vision. He blinked and backed up quickly, until realising it was just the fireflies again. They were staring at him with both admiration and gratitude, which confused him until they started to speak.

"We are free again  
From the terrors of the hounds  
Who defiled our pond."

"We need fear no more;  
Many thanks must be given,  
Great dragon of wind."

"It…it was nothing," Nadi stammered, "I guess those hounds must have fled here after we chased them from the dragonfly village… So it was kind of our fault in the first place."

"Hey, hey, don't deny them the chance to praise us!" Sparx interrupted, and then turned to the fireflies with a flourishing bow, "You're welcome! The great Sparx, god of Tall Plains, saviour of dragons and…fireflies, prevails against all! You have been blessed by his—I mean my—generosity!"

"God?" Nadi muttered under his breath, but he went unheard over the words of the fireflies.

"Our thanks are to you,  
Mighty god of dragonflies,  
Who helped us in need."

One of the fireflies turned then, and shot back into the bulrushes from where they had first appeared. It reappeared moments later, something bright and shiny held in its tiny hands. Sparx stared with awe as the firefly insistently pressed the thing into his hands.

"Please take this crystal,  
May it bring you happiness  
Like it did for us."

"Crystal?" Nadi echoed, staring at the gem now held in Sparx's hands. But the fireflies just waved and floated away, back into the bulrushes from whence they had come.

"Weird," Sparx said, holding the chunk of crystal at arm's length. It was almost as big as he was, and vaguely diamond-shaped with both ends tapering to blunt points. It reminded Nadi of spirit gems, but it was completely clear, except for an odd, white, mist-like substance that swirled in its very centre. He'd never seen any gem like it.

"Well, whatever it is, you might as well keep it," the wind dragon suggested with a shrug, "Might be useful some time."

"Sure, sure, now how about we get back to the village? Man, mum and dad are gonna _freak_ when they hear about this…!"

It was nearing midday by the time Selador bid the guardians farewell and left the main hall with her three charges. The navy dragoness led them through the winding streets at a leisurely pace, listening to Domino as he kept up a constant string of fast-paced conversation. Myst stuck close to him, using him as her guideline through the crowds, but Zephira lagged behind. This did not escape Selador's notice.

"Is everything alright, Zephira?" the navy dragoness asked gently, dropping back to walk beside the white dragoness, "You were awfully quiet at breakfast. Is there something bothering you?"

Zephira looked up, her eyes misted over with thought, and met Selador's concerned gaze. Blinking the fog from her eyes, the wind dragoness shook her head slowly.

"No, I'm fine," she said shortly.

Selador frowned, unconvinced, "If you're sure…"

The young dragoness offered her elder a smile, "I'm fine, Miss Selador, really. Just thinking."

Selador couldn't help but notice how half-hearted that smile was, but she let it drop with a sigh. Striding ahead to catch up to the two younger dragons, she extended a wing around Zephira's shoulders to coax her along.

"Just Selador will be fine," she said to the young dragoness, "You make me feel old. Now let's catch up to those two before Domino gets them lost. We'll be there soon."

Zephira nodded wordlessly and trotted along at her side, her eyes ahead but her thoughts elsewhere. She couldn't shake that image of the panther from her mind, no matter how she tried. It had been so unexpected, to see the black feline just standing there across the street, as though she was just another of Warfang's many citizens. What had she been doing out in the streets, anyway? Shouldn't she have been locked up somewhere, away from the citizens, and guarded by the cheetahs who had brought her?

But, no, she had just been standing there, no one with her but a frail-looking female cheetah that Zephira had never seen before. Where were the guards to keep her in check and make sure she didn't do anything to harm the citizens? Why was a panther being allowed to wander the streets unchecked when their clan had so recently staged an attack on the city? It didn't make any sense.

Zephira couldn't suppress a shudder when she recalled the moment her eyes had met those of the pantheress. Those deep, ocean blue eyes, so horribly familiar. Was it mere coincidence? They had held nothing of the merciless coldness of the panther that had slaughtered her brother, but all the same there had been something eerily similar about her face. It terrified her—no, it disgusted her. How dare such a creature walk freely within her city?

"Here we are, now—Domino, come back here!" Selador's voice unknowingly jerked Zephira from her unpleasant thoughts, and the wind dragon looked up sharply. In the time she had been absorbed in thinking, they had made their way into the winding backstreets of the city, where the crowds were much thinner and many houses were situated.

Domino turned sharply and hurried back to Selador, grinning sheepishly, Myst still sticking to his side like a grove mite. Not that he minded. But in his eagerness to speak with the little blind dragoness, he had almost sauntered off down a different side street without realising.

"Sorry! I wasn't watching!" he apologised with a grin and Selador looked sternly at him.

"And this is why you get lost far too often," she chided, before smiling fondly, "Now, let's get these two lovely dragonesses acquainted with their new home."

For the first time, Zephira realised they were standing in front of a large, mostly round building off the edge of the street. A small, cobblestone path led to the tall, polished wooden door, upon which a circular, bronze knocker had been nailed. The building itself was crafted from golden, sandstone blocks, like much of the rest of the city. Craning her head upwards, she saw the roof was domed, much like that of the Atrium but not nearly as impressive.

"What does it look like?" Myst asked eagerly, and Zephira listened half-heartedly as Selador explained it to the blind dragoness.

"Come on, come on!" Domino crowed impatiently, grinning widely and bouncing towards the door, "I'll show you inside! It's huge!"

"To a small dragon, I suppose," Selador muttered under her breath, leading Myst up the pathway to the door. Zephira followed behind, gazing solemnly at her paws.

Domino needed all of his weight to open the door, rising up on his hind legs and pushing against it with all his strength. The door creaked open, and the little dragon lost his balance, falling flat on his stomach in the doorway. Giggling, he jumped back up again and skipped inside, looking behind to make sure the dragonesses were following. Selador's head almost brushed the top of the doorway as she stepped through.

The room they stepped into was a modest entrance hall, with a thin cream carpet resting upon a smooth, stone floor. A window on the left wall was the only decoration, before the short hall opened out into a much larger room. This room, Zephira noticed, was more lavishly decorated. A circular cream carpet, much like the red one in the guardians' quarters, covered much of the centre of the room. Around it were placed several large cushions, all a pale gold colour that matched the embroidered patterns on the carpet.

At the back of the room, three doorways were curtained off, and Zephira assumed they led to bedrooms. Two wide, arched windows let light in from either side of the room, and there was a fireplace on the right wall, between the window and the closest, curtained doorway. Selador beckoned them all into the room.

"It isn't much," she said, "but it's home. You and Myst will need to share a room, Zephira. I hope that isn't a problem."

The white dragoness shook her head, "Not at all. We don't mind, do we, Myst?"

Myst shook her head by way of answer and let the navy dragoness guide her across the room. Selador brushed one of the heavy, gold curtains out of the way and beckoned to Zephira. The wind dragoness peered curiously into the room beyond the curtain.

It was a bedroom, as she had expected, similar to the one she had previously shared with Ciro, only round instead of square. Light from the window at the back of the room bled across the bed of cream cushions in the centre of the room, and the gold blankets folded neatly beside it. An almost empty bookshelf stood to the side, beside a mirror—a polished sheet of metal—hung upon the wall.

Zephira sighed and stepped into the room, stepping around the bed of cushions to look out the window. She had a view of the narrow backstreets, and a small garden just below the window. Although she said nothing, Selador seemed to pick up on her vibes. Quietly, the navy dragoness bent done to whisper in Myst's ear.

"I think Zephira would like to be left alone for a little while."

Straightening up, Selador addressed the white dragoness gently, "I'll have the moles bring any of your old possessions here from your old room. If you need anything, just ask."

"Thank you, Selador," Zephira murmured without turning around, and didn't move again until she heard the heavy curtain swing shut with a rustle of material. Softly, she padded over to the cushions and lay down, letting her deformed wing stretch out across them. For a moment she just stared at her paws, her eyes following the lines of scars that crept across her scales.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there. In could have been hours, or only minutes, but time didn't seem important in that instant. Though she stared at her paws, they were not what Zephira saw—instead she saw a face, swimming before her mind's eye; a face covered with black fur. She couldn't tell anymore whether it was the face of the pantheress she had seen in the city, or the face of the monster that had killed her brother. They were all the same.

'_All the same…'_

Anger and bitterness festered inside her heart, a horrible sensation she wasn't used to at all. She couldn't shift the thoughts from her head. They were all the same; monsters, murderers. They had killed her brother, wrenched him from her paws before she had a chance to drag him back. What right did they have to take away his life? What gave them the right to control life and death? What right did _she_ have to walk freely in this city? A panther was a panther. They were all the same.

'_It's their fault. It's their fault Ciro is gone. They're all the same. It's their fault I'm alone. So why? Why isn't she being punished? Why is she _here_?'_

Zephira didn't realise she was crying until she felt something wet upon her cheeks and reached up a paw to wipe it away. She stared at the tears that clung to her scales, before angrily flinging them from her paw as though they were an insult to the memory of her brother. Frustrated, she lurched to her feet and padded over to the mirror on the wall. Her own reflection, distorted slightly by the polished metal, glared back at her, tears still clinging to her cheeks, violet eyes blazing. She rubbed furiously at her eyes until the tears were gone, and stalked out of the room.

Selador, Domino and Myst were sitting on the cushions around the carpet in the main room when Zephira brushed the curtain aside and stepped out. The navy dragoness raised her head to call the wind dragoness over, but Zephira spoke before she had a chance to.

"I'm going for a walk," she said shortly, hoping they wouldn't notice the lingering tearstains upon her cheeks. Without waiting for an answer, she walked quickly into the entrance hall and pulled the door open. Selador stared after her.

"Zephira…?" Myst murmured, confused, but the older wind dragoness didn't hear her.

"Leave her be," Selador sighed, draping a wing over the young, scarred dragoness, "I think she has a lot on her mind."

Zephira strode through the streets as though on a mission, though in truth she had no idea where she was going. It was only when she was several streets away from Selador's house that she realised she was walking blind, and slowed down. Taking a deep breath, the white dragoness looked around the streets. Dragons strode by here and there, in pairs or groups, talking cheerfully as old friends do. No one seemed to even notice her presence.

Wings drooping, Zephira continued on her way, walking slowly this time, eyes clouded with thought. By the time she stopped again, she realised she was at the edge of the main gardens. Swaying on her feet thoughtfully, the white dragoness was about to step onto the pebbled path that would take her to the centre of the gardens, when a gruff voice hailed her.

"Hey."

Startled, Zephira spun around to face the owner of the voice. He was not a welcome sight. An earth dragon stood before her, a fair head taller than her but still far from his prime. Ropey scars criss-crossed his deep green scales and he held one leg awkwardly, as though it had once been injured beyond repair.

"What do you want, Chasm?" the wind dragoness sighed, not meeting his scowling, hazel eyes.

"You're friends with that Spyro kid, right?" the earth dragon grunted, limping closer. Zephira scowled in response.

"Why?" she asked, almost challengingly, and was surprised at herself. A few weeks ago, she would never have dared to speak to Chasm in that way. In a way, in made her feel strangely emboldened.

Chasm shrugged, a lop-sided gesture due to his scarred leg, "Nuthin'. Just wanted to know where he was, is all."

"Well he's not here," Zephira sniffed, raising her head and meeting his eyes, "So you're wasting your time."

She turned to leave, but was jerked backward when Chasm trapped her tailblade under his paw. Annoyed, she turned around and yanked her tail from his grip, meeting his challenging eyes. A brief stare-off ensued, until Chasm straightened up and attempted to look nonchalant.

"Well, maybe you can tell me _where_ he is," he said, an edge to his voice that Zephira didn't miss. Her glare narrowed.

"I told you, you're wasting your time. I don't know where he is. In fact, as far as I'm aware, he's not even in the city anymore."

Chasm's eyes widened ever so slightly, "What? So…he's gone? But where'd he go?"

For a split second Zephira hesitated, then spat out, "I don't know."

The earth dragon scowled, "Why do I get the feeling you're lying to me?"

"Why does it matter?" the wind dragoness snapped, "He's not here and I don't know when he'll be back. What do you want him for anyway?"

Chasm hesitated and a guarded expression masked his face. Zephira thought she could see his paws tensing, claws curling into the cobblestones, suggesting barely concealed anger. Her jaw tightened as she eyed him suspiciously.

"Just something I got to say to him," the earth dragon grunted at length, and Zephira had a feeling he was skirting around the question. He shook his head, claws relaxing slightly. "What about Cynder, she around?"

"Haven't you given her enough trouble?" Zephira scowled, tail flicking irritably.

Chasm didn't look pleased, "I'm not asking for your opinion, I'm asking if she's around!"

"Well, she's not," the wind dragoness sniffed dismissively, "She's gone with Spyro. You won't find her here. Now, if you don't mind…"

She turned pointedly towards the gardens, glancing back challengingly as though to dare him to try to hold her back again. But he did nothing of the sort.

"Fine," he grunted bitterly, and turned to stalk away. But he stopped after he'd taken a few steps, and called over his shoulder to the white dragoness. "When they do come back, I'll find them myself."

Zephira watched him as he walked away, brushing roughly past a green dragoness in the street, until he disappeared around the corner. A sigh escaped her lips and she turned her gaze towards the sky, into which her friends had disappeared not so long ago.

"You'd do best to avoid that one, Spyro," she murmured quietly to no one. Moments later, another voice called out to her, this one much less unwelcome.

"Zephira!" Nalu called as she hurried to catch up to the wind dragoness. She stopped beside her, panting from her short run across the street.

"Hello, Nalu," Zephira said politely, not entirely unpleased to see her, but longing for a taste of peace and quiet to mull over her own thoughts.

"I've been…looking all over for you," the green dragoness panted, "I went to the infirmary, but the moles said you'd left this morning. Where's Myst?"

"With Selador," Zephira said shortly, "We're staying with her. The moles and the guardians decided we weren't capable of living on our own."

Nalu didn't miss the trace of bitterness in her voice, but chose to ignore it, "Selador? That dragoness that's usually with the guardians?"

"Yes. She's nice enough."

A brief silence fell, and Nalu awkwardly shuffled her paws on the cobblestones as she tried to think of something to say. Zephira didn't look at her, and the green dragoness had a feeling she was somewhat unwelcome here.

"Would you like to be left alone?" she asked gently after a moment, wings drooping slightly. The wind dragoness glanced apologetically at her.

"I'm sorry, Nalu," she admitted, lavender eyes sad, "I've just got a lot on my mind at the moment. I'll talk to you later, I promise."

Zephira began to walk away, but Nalu called her back, stopping her in her tracks.

"You're not thinking about that panther, are you? The one in the city?"

The white dragoness didn't respond, but her tense shoulders said it all. Nalu hesitated, swaying anxiously.

"Zephira…" she murmured at length, "Please don't do anything rash."

But Zephira just walked away without a word or a glance back, disappearing down the winding path into the gardens. Nalu stared sadly after her, apricot eyes full of worry and sadness.

"I've already lost Ciro," she murmured into the silence, unheard, "I don't want to see the same thing happen to you."

**A/N: Too much Haiku. Also, why was this chapter so long? I don't even know. Blah. Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks again to my awesome reviewers of awesomeness who are very awesome. All of my love. Until next tiiiime!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Helloooooo, darlings! I'm back! So, I'm back at uni again, so I'm afraid this story will have to go back into slow update mode. :[ But, on the bright side, here's a very long chapter for you. ^^ Seriously, though, it's fighting, fighting and more fighting. It's basically everyone facing their own boss fights, so it got kind of repetitive. I did what I could to mix things up, but I had to cut Ember's and Kazan's because it was just too much. Totally should have expected this chapter to be so difficult, but I didn't. Oh well, I hope it's ok. **

**Zannak's scene in this chapter was inspired by a game called Persona 4...if you've played it, you'll know why. Also, we see the brief return of a character we haven't seen since chapter 14. ;)**

**Oh, special thanks to GoldenGriffiness for helping me with ideas for Flame's scene this chapter. Creepy Ember was her idea. Enjoy!**

**22.**

"Hello? Sis, Spyro, Kazan? Hey! Is anyone there?"

The echoes of Zannak's yell bounced around the empty space for a moment, before they faded into cloying silence. The gold dragon sighed through his teeth and stopped walking—no matter how many steps he took, it didn't seem like he was getting anywhere, anyway. Whiteness stretched all around him, a milky, mist-like substance that clung to his claws. He could see nothing in every direction, but for the occasional streak of silvery-blue lightning that cut the void.

"Guess I'm alone," Zannak muttered, raising his head to what he assumed was the sky, though there was no way to distinguish it from the floor upon which he stood. "Wonder what happened to everyone else…"

The electric dragon sat down with a bump. At least the ground felt solid, even if it didn't look that way. He wasn't the sort of dragon to become panicked easily, but nevertheless his nerves felt on edge. Where was this void? And what if he was stuck in it forever?

"Maybe this is a dream," he mused thoughtfully. A moment later, he pinched his paw with his talons and winced as pain shot through the scales. "Ow! Ok…maybe not."

"What am I even doing here?" he groaned at length, slapping at tendrils of mist around his paws and watching them break and dissipate between his talons. The silence was deafening, broken only by his voice whenever he spoke. He decided he'd rather keep speaking than sit in that choking silence.

"First some creepy voice tells us to face our fears or something, then this weird flash of light, and suddenly I'm in the middle of nowhere. Where the heck is everyone? Man…I hope Saff's ok."

Zannak stood up again and paced a few steps, though he had the oddest feeling that he was walking on the spot, "Greatest fear, huh? So, what? I'm scared of mist or something?"

He chuckled loudly at his own joke, the sound echoing hollowly through the void.

"There you go again, making another _stupid_ joke. You never change, do you? Pathetic," The voice was bitter, disgusted and warped—but oddly familiar. Zannak spun around with a start, wings flaring. Only empty whiteness greeted him.

"Hey!" he yelled into the void, "Who's there? Who are you calling pathetic?"

A shadowy figure appeared through the mist, gaining clarity as it drew ever closer. Suddenly wary, Zannak took a hesitant step back and crouched into a defensive stance. The mist parted to allow the figure through.

"You, of course," it said with a derisive smirk, "Or should I say…me."

Zannak drew breath in sharply through his teeth, momentarily dropping out of his battle stance. Standing before him was a young dragon—a dragon that looked exactly like him. Almost. The scales were duller, more bronze than gold, and the turquoise of his head-crest looked more of a sickly green. But the eyes were the strangest. They were nothing but dank whiteness, empty tunnels into void; they didn't even glow like Spyro's eyes when he lost control. They just looked…dead.

But there was no mistaking this dragon's resemblance. He could have been Zannak's twin brother, were it not for those eyes. Swallowing hard, Zannak took another step back from his doppelganger.

"What the-? Who the heck are you?" he exclaimed, raising an eyebrow and wondering whether he should feel threatened or not by the appearance of his twin.

"Can't you guess?" it drawled, and Zannak heard his own voice speaking, warped by a haunting echo. Suddenly he felt oddly defensive.

"I dunno, could use a clue here," he grinned jauntily, straightening up.

His twin glared back scornfully, "When are you going to stop pretending? It's getting old, don't you think?"

"Pretending?" Zannak wondered aloud, bemused, "What are you talking about?"

The other Zannak snorted with disgust, "Don't play dumb. I know you, and I know what you're thinking. I know what really goes on in that tiny mind of yours. After all, we're one and the same."

"Look, buddy, I dunno who you are, but you're making no sense. I'm just me, you know? I'm not _pretending_ anything."

"You can deny it as much as you want, but you and I both know that isn't the case," the shadowy Zannak began to pace around his counterpart, paws slapping hollowly, "You can't hide it from yourself. Every day you try to mask your feelings with a joke and a laugh, acting like an idiot to keep your stupid friends off the scent. Who knows what they'd think if they really knew…"

"Shut up."

The doppelganger stopped and stared, his hollow tunnels for eyes staring blankly into Zannak's. The gold dragon's words had been calm and blunt, but his teal eyes were blazing furiously. Swallowing, Zannak ground his teeth together and repeated in a stronger voice.

"Shut up! Don't say anything more."

A dark grin spread across the face of his twin, "What? Are you afraid of your true feelings? But you can't hide it from me…after all, I _am_ you."

"I said shut up!" Zannak growled, his grin completely gone now, eyes flashing a dangerous warning, "You don't know anything about me! I am who I am, not anyone else!"

"Who you are?" his double laughed coldly, "You've been hiding it from yourself for so long, I think you've forgotten. Well, maybe I can remind you."

In a flash he was in Zannak's face, blank eyes staring him down like white fire, "Why is my sister so much stronger than me? Why does the electricity guardian favour her over me? She's just a _girl_. Why is Ciro so much smarter than me? Why should he get all the girls? He's nothing special! What makes Kazan so strong, anyway? Why does he get to complain about strength when he's so much stronger than I am? Why am I so weak? I wish they'd all just disappear! I wish I was stronger, smarter, better than all of them! I _should_ be better than all of them!"

"You never cared about your sister or your friends! They were always just getting in your way, showing you up like the fool that you are! You resent them, despise them even! You wish they'd all just go away; nobody looks at you when they're around! They're so much more interesting; smarter; stronger! But they're nothing special! They're _nothing_!"

"Shut up!" Zannak howled suddenly, lurching forward and slamming his forepaws into the shoulders of his double. The other Zannak jerked backwards and staggered, glaring hatefully at his counterpart. "You…you don't know anything! I'd never think any of that!"

"Oh, but you do," the doppelganger hissed, blood trickling down his shoulder where Zannak had struck him. "But you hide it all behind your mask of stupidity, because you're so afraid of being _alone_. Maybe they're nothing special, maybe they're always showing you up and getting in your way, but they're the only dragons in the world who could be bothered with a pathetic wretch like you. Without them, you'd have no one! And you are so _afraid_ of being alone."

"Look at you! Hiding your true feelings; acting like an idiot to make others like you, even though deep down you resent them with everything you have! You're a pathetic weakling who can't handle being alone, and you know it!"

A howl of agony ripped itself from Zannak's throat and he threw himself at his twin, slamming him into the ground with a ferocious force, "Shut the hell up! You don't know anything about me! I'm nothing like that! Stop talking like you know who I am! You know nothing, do you hear me? Just shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

His words were punctuation by vicious punches as he slammed his balled forepaw into the doppelganger's face again and again. But as he drew back his paw for another blow, the doppelganger surged upwards and sent him tumbling across the ground. Blood dripped down the shadowy Zannak's face from where his counterpart had struck him, and his eyes were narrowed hatefully.

"I know everything about you," he hissed, "I _am_ you, Zannak."

"You're not me!" Zannak howled, jumping to his feet, "You're nothing _like_ me!"

"Not you…" the doppelganger chuckled darkly, "No, I suppose I'm not. I'm better than you; at least _I'm_ not trying to hide from myself. So why don't you just…_disappear_!"

A scream ripped itself from Zannak's throat as blinding agony ripped through his body—electricity. If only he'd expected it, he would have been able to divert it, or even absorb it, but it tore through his veins without mercy and forced him to the ground. Gasping for breath, Zannak collapsed, limbs twitching spasmodically, until the pain slowly eased. With incredible effort, he opened one eyes and beheld the sight of his dark double charging across the empty space, jaws crackling with voltage.

"No!" Zannak cried, throwing his aching body to the side just in time. A bolt of electricity scarred the ground inches from his head, leaving a smoking gash upon the misty white floor. His twin spun around, teeth gnashing.

"Disappear!" the doppelganger cried, "Give up and die! I am the _true_ Zannak! I am the true self!"

"You're not!" Zannak yelled, voice cracking, and threw himself at his opponent. The two, almost identical dragons rolled over each other, locking claws and grinding teeth, tails lashing. When they jumped apart again moments later, both were covered with shallow, bleeding scratches across their scales. Zannak glared hatefully at his twin and cracked his jaws open, voltage sparking within.

The shadowy Zannak did the same, and electricity leaped from their maws at almost the exact same time. They met in the centre of the battlefield with a vicious crackling sound, and an orb of voltage began to form at the point the bolts met. It grew steadily larger and brighter, almost blinding the two combatants, until it detonated with a roar like an explosion.

Zannak yelled in pain as the world flash white before his eyes and he was thrown across the ground, limbs flailing uselessly. His side skidded on the ground, which suddenly felt more like harsh stone than cold mist, scraping his scales harshly until they burned like fire. Groaning through gritted teeth, he rolled onto his stomach and raised his spinning head.

Across the void, his doppelganger was already getting to his feet, empty eyes blazing with anger. Sucking in a shallow breath, Zannak pushed his screaming body up, trying to ignore the burning pain in his side. He glared across at his opponent, and took several shaky steps closer.

"I won't…I won't lose," Zannak choked out, voice almost breaking, "Not to someone like you!"

His doppelganger glared back scornfully, "So you'll continue to fight against yourself, simply because you're too afraid to accept it? Face it; I am the true you. You can't win!"

"I don't believe that!" Zannak's yell bounced around the empty void as he charged across the space towards his opponent in great bounds, wings spread wide and fangs bared.

"Then you will _die_!"

They met in the centre of the void, claws clashing on claws, jaws snapping. Zannak howled when his double sank his teeth into his shoulder, and blood spurted from his golden scales, drenching his leg. Furiously, he kicked his opponent hard in the stomach, tearing a deep gash down the doppelganger's softer underbelly scales. He wrenched his teeth from Zannak's flesh and the two leapt apart, panting.

Blood splattered the white ground, the mist around their paws almost turning red. Zannak's injured leg shook when he tried to put weight on it, but he valiantly ignored it, sweat dripping down his muzzle. His eyes stung, as though exposed to a biting wind, and there was a lump in his throat that he couldn't shift. His dark twin just glowered at him.

With a snarl, Zannak charged again, spitting electricity and then snatching it within his jaws as though it was a tangible thing. The whip of voltage snapped and jerked within his jaws, threatening to shock its creator, but Zannak thrust his head towards his opponent, snapping the whip around. It lashed across the doppelganger's face, tearing a smoking gash over his muzzle and just beneath his eye. Snarling, he jerked backwards, pawing at his injured face.

With another jerk of his head, Zannak sent the electric whip flying, and it wrapped around his opponent seemingly of its own accord, constricting around his neck and chest. The doppelganger howled and clawed at the whip, body twitching with spasms of agony. By the time he tore it off and the voltage dissipated, Zannak had already snuck around behind him.

A roar rent the air as the doppelganger spun, tail snapping around like a whip. The sharp tips of his forked tailblade cut deep into Zannak's face, tearing gashes across his cheek and forehead. Zannak cried out and staggered backward, head jerking back, as more of his blood splattered the ground around him.

Panting, the almost identical dragons backed away from each other, nursing injuries and leaving trails of blood in their wake. Zannak lowered himself to the ground, legs tensing for a charge.

"One…more time," he panted, and sucked in a deep, laboured breath. Then, with a defiant cry, he exploded into voltage as, across the void, his twin did the same.

Encased in electricity, the two charging dragons met in the centre, their crackling shields colliding with deadly force. An explosion rocked the void, sending both dragons flying in opposite directions, and sweeping blood-coloured mist away. Zannak hit the ground hard and lay still as the explosive roar died away. Then, groaning in pain, he picked himself up.

Across the empty field of blood and mist, his doppelganger was struggling to sit up. Unsteadily, Zannak began to limp across the void towards him, leaving globs of his own blood behind with every step. When he was barely a meter away from his exhausted twin, he stopped.

"You've…gone quiet," Zannak sneered between pants, any trace of his former, easy-going demeanour completely lost amongst the bitterness in his heart, "What's wrong? Got nothing else to say? No more lies to spit out? Have you finally accepted that I'm nothing like—!"

"Zannak. That's enough."

A voice rang out through the cloying, blood-stained mist, clear and calm. Zannak spun around, eyes wider than they'd ever been, and drew in a sharp breath. He knew that voice. But it couldn't be…

"No…no way."

"Long time no see, huh Zannak?" said the blue dragon as he materialised through the mist, eyes twinkling with amusement yet tinged with barely concealed sadness. Though the edges of his wings seemed to fade and turn to mist at the edges, the rest of his body looked as solid and real as it ever had. And there was not a wound or scar to be spoken off upon his brilliant blue scales.

Zannak was almost lost for words. Almost. "N-No…you…how…? Ciro! You're _alive_?"

A grin broke across his face for a split second, until the blue dragon slowly shook his head. Hesitantly, the grin on Zannak's face wavered, and he glanced nervously from his silent doppelganger to the manifestation of his best friend. His wounds ached and somewhere inside him a heaviness had settled that he could not shift. Longing, teal eyes met those of the ice dragon.

"…You're not, are you?"

Ciro smiled sadly, almost apologetically, "I wouldn't be here if I was."

The electric dragon swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, "So…_how_ are you here? Wherever here is."

"That doesn't matter right now," the ice dragon explained gently, taking a few steps closer, "What does matter…is you. _Both_ of you."

Zannak couldn't miss the way Ciro's eyes turned to linger upon the doppelganger, who had become eerily silent and was staring blankly at the ground with empty eyes. A frustration bordering on anger suddenly filled the yellow dragon to the brim, and his lips rose in a half snarl.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped, suddenly defensive, "Are you saying this…this _jerk_ is _me_?"

Ciro met his eyes evenly, "Isn't he?"

"He's nothing like me!" Zannak exclaimed angrily, flaring wings and wincing as his injuries sent painful twinges through his body, "I would have thought my best friend could have seen _that_!"

"It's _your_ eyes that are refusing to see, Zannak. You don't need to keep hiding it anymore. The only one you're fooling is yourself."

Those words were like a blow to the face for the gold dragon. Stunned, he could only stare at Ciro, incredulous, as though he'd just warped into something far more bizarre than anything the electric dragon could dream up. The ice dragon's emerald eyes stared back challengingly, and for a moment Zannak felt like they were seeing right through him. Suddenly he felt cold and exposed, like a hatchling entering the world for the first time.

"How…how can you say that?" he whispered, voice hitching, "I'm not…I'm not like that at all. I would never think those things. I couldn't. I-I'm not like that!"

Beside him, the doppelganger shuddered violently, and the mist around it turned red with blood. Zannak swallowed hard and took a shaking step backwards. Then, he met Ciro's eyes once more, and saw they were filled with something unexpected—compassion, understanding, acceptance.

"You're not the only one hiding feelings like this, Zannak," he explained softly, "Everyone has a part of them they hide away, feelings they're ashamed to face up to. It doesn't make you any less of a dragon. You're my best friend, Zannak, no matter what. Even if you do feel like that sometimes, even if you do resent me for some things, you're still my friend. That won't ever change."

"But you can't keep lying to yourself. You keep pushing those feelings down, and they're only going to get worse! You need to accept them, Zannak. Otherwise, this will never end."

Zannak trembled, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, as though to push back the demons that threatened to escape him, "I can't…"

He took a deep, shuddering breath and continued in a hitched voiced, "I can't believe…that I've got such horrible feelings inside of me. That I resent my own sister, my friends, you… I hate that there's a part of me that really does feel like that! I hate it! I don't…I don't want to feel like that! I don't want to _be_ like that!"

Tears rolled down his muzzle, no matter how he tried to hold them back, "I want to be someone my friends, my family, can rely on—not someone who resents them for something so stupid! Because I do care about you! I care about everyone! Even…even if they're better than me; even if they only like me for who I pretend to be. They're all I have! But I don't want to care about them just because of that, just because I'm too afraid to be alone. I want to care about them because they deserve it—because they're good dragons! And I don't ever want them to feel alone."

"Even if a part of me resents them…" his tear-filled eyes settled on his doppelganger, and in the moment their eyes met, a wordless message was passed between them. With a slow, solemn nod of its head, the doppelganger closed its empty eyes and faded into the blood-tinged mist. Warmth bloomed suddenly in Zannak's chest and he rubbed his moist eyes with the back of his paw. He could still feel Ciro's presence beside him.

"You did well," the blue dragon said at length, and Zannak looked up with a strained smile, "Not everyone has the strength to face up to themselves. It takes a lot of willpower to accept a part of yourself that you're ashamed of."

"Tch," Zannak grinned lopsidedly, "how do you know all this stuff? You're never this wise!"

Ciro shrugged sadly, "I guess you learn a lot when you're dead. The ancestors have a lot to share…"

Zannak's smile faded slightly and he looked away, "Right. So, um, how are you here anyway? And where is here?"

"Your consciousness," Ciro replied, gesturing with a paw as though to encompass the entire void around them, "Well, sort of. Technically, we're in a plane separate from both the spirit and mortal worlds. Whatever's here is a manifestation of something held within your consciousness. Spirits can't exist in the mortal world, but since we're here…and because it's you… I guess you could say your memories of me called my spirit here."

Zannak stared blankly at him, "You lost me at 'consciousness'. Sorry I asked. Guess I should just be glad you're here, even if I don't get how. Why did you come anyway?"

Ciro grinned, "I figured you needed a little push in the right direction."

"What, you didn't think I could handle myself?" Zannak scoffed, and Ciro's grin widened. Suddenly, an odd sensation began to creep over Zannak's body, and the void around him started to fade into darkness. Odd tingles crept up from his feet, and he looked, panicked, towards Ciro.

"Wh-what's going on?"

The ice dragon just smiled sadly, "You've completed your test, Zannak. You faced your greatest fear and defeated it. Now it's time for you to return."

"Defeat it? I didn't defeat it; I accepted it!"

"Is there any difference?" Ciro grinned roguishly as the darkness began to creep in.

"Wait! You're coming with me, right?" Zannak yelled, forgetting for one, wild moment that the ice dragon was but a spirit. Forgetting that this one moment could be the last time he ever spoke to his best friend.

But Ciro met his eyes evenly, and he saw they were filled with a kind of longing sadness, "I'm dead, Zannak. There is no place for me in the mortal world any more. You know that."

For a moment the gold dragon looked as though he was struck dumb, until a fierce look entered his turquoise eyes, "Well, maybe I don't want to believe that! Maybe I don't want you to be dead! I want you to come back with me!"

"I can't do that," Ciro sighed, averting his eyes, "It doesn't matter if you refuse to believe it; you can't change the fact that I have already died. Nothing can change that."

A deep growl echoed from within Zannak's throat and he spat a single, angry word, "No!"

"Zannak!"

"I said no!" the gold dragon yelled, even as the darkness continued to creep in towards the two dragons, threatening to drag them from the bizarre realm of Zannak's consciousness; threatening to separate them. "You used to tell me nothing was impossible! I don't care if you're dead! You're coming back with me, do you hear?"

He tried to lurch forwards, to outstretch his paws to grab Ciro's shoulders, but found that his body refused to obey his commands. Panicked, he met Ciro's eyes again and desperately yelled out his name. But the blue dragon shook his head, and sadness fell like a stone into the pit of Zannak's stomach. His throat caught and his eyes burned almost unbearably.

"Dammit!" he howled, voice breaking, "Why did it have to be you? Why did you have to die? Why couldn't I save you? Just…just _why_, dammit? Ciro!"

Tears broke the threshold of his eyes and spilled down his cheeks in rivulets, and another anguished howl was ripped from his throat, "Ciro! I…I won't forgive you!"

"Zannak…" Ciro murmured, eyes wide.

No matter how he struggled, Zannak could not force his legs to move. He could do nothing but yell and howl with desperation as the darkness closed in, threatening to drag Ciro away forever. His eyes were clouded with tears that he tried in vain to hold back.

"We made a promise!" he choked out, "We made a _promise_! Don't you remember? After mum left…we promised we'd always stay together! We promised we'd never leave our sisters; that we'd always be there for them! We promised that we'd stay together no matter what! We'd live together, and we'd _die_ together! Why? Why did you break it! It was a promise!"

A sob broke from his lips and he shook his head furiously, sending tears flying, "You broke it! Now Zephira's all alone; Saffron blames herself; and I…I… dammit, Ciro! You said we'd die _together_! Why did you leave us? Why did you break our promise! I won't forgive you, do you hear me? _I won't forgive you_!"

"Well, it's a good thing you're still alive, then."

Zannak's eyes snapped open, and for a moment the flow of tears halted. Ciro grinned back at him, a half-hearted, sad sort of grin, but a grin nonetheless. His green eyes were blazing with a kind of ferocious passion, and it left the gold dragon dumbstruck in its wake.

"I can't keep the promise we made," the ice dragon continued, "I can't be there for my sister or my friends, no matter how much I wish I could. But you _can_, Zannak. They need you to stand by them, just as much as you need them. Stay together, all of you, and be each other's strength. Be there for them where I can not. I'm counting on you, Zannak."

"You're counting…on me?" Zannak snorted a humourless laugh, his mouth rising in a half-grin, "Isn't that a laugh… I can't do anything to replace you. No one can replace you!"

"And no one will. But you can still be there for everyone, like I would have been. Take care of them. And, Zannak?"

The electric dragon sighed and averted his eyes, as though he didn't have to strength to meet the spirit's gaze any longer, "What is it, Ciro?"

The ice dragon grinned, "When you die, I'll be waiting for you. But don't rush. I can wait forever. That's a promise I'll never break."

"You mean that, don't you?" Zannak murmured, staring at his paws, stained with his own blood, not brave enough to raise his head. A deep-seeded ache had settled somewhere inside his heart, pushing against the base of his throat. His jaw tightened as salty drops crept down his cheeks.

"Is this how you plan to go back? Lost, hopeless, in tears?" there was a definite undertone of annoyance in Ciro's tone that startled Zannak enough to raise his head, "Aren't you better than that? Aren't you the one who always laughs in the face of misery, who smiles when surrounded by frowns? Aren't you the one who never gives up, no matter the circumstances? Where is the laughter, Zannak?"

The ice dragon's voice rose in frustration and he yelled, "What happened to the brother I knew?"

"Maybe I don't want to laugh anymore!" Zannak shot back, blazing teal eyes meeting furious green, "Maybe I forgot how to smile when you left me! Did you ever think of that, Ciro?"

The blue dragon's face softened, "You can never forget how to smile."

"How do you know that?" Zannak whispered bitterly.

"Because I know you. And I know you're stronger than that. If that's not enough…I want you to make me a promise, Zannak. I broke our old promise, and maybe you can't forgive me for that, but it's time we made a new one. So, promise me, Zannak, as long as you're alive you'll never stop smiling. And if you break that promise…then I will never forgive _you_. Can you do that?"

The void was almost gone now. A tiny bubble of light remained, surrounded the heads of the two dragons as they faced each other. Zannak's eyes were unnaturally bright, shielded by a film of tears. Ciro met those eyes evenly, calmer as a spirit than he'd ever been in life. Then, slowly, a smile began to spread across the face of the gold dragon.

"Can I do it?" he asked slowly, the grin spreading from cheek to cheek, eyes flashing fiercely, "You're really asking me that? Are you an idiot? Of course I can! Of course I can keep smiling! I will smile, I will laugh, and I won't let anyone bring me down! Because I never break a promise! Never!"

A laugh broke from his lips, harsh and almost humourless, punctured by the tears that streamed down his face. But his eyes blazed with vindication, determination, and his smile was far from fake.

"Just you wait and see, Ciro, I'll never stop smiling. That's a promise."

Ciro smirked, "I knew I could count on you. Take care of them. I will be watching, you can be sure of that."

The darkness crept in, until only the ice dragon's eyes were visible, shining through the shadows. Zannak blinked his tears away, still grinning, even as the darkness spirited him away. His last words lingered like an echo in the fading void, but the spirit of Ciro heard them well enough.

"I'll keep you to that promise, brother."

* * *

In battle, Flame considered himself unbeatable, and he wasn't far off. To date, Spyro was still the only dragon that had managed to hand him complete and utter defeat—not just once, but many times over. Nevertheless, fighting was something the red dragon was used to. _Winning_ was something he was used to. And he never backed down from a challenge. Challenge excited him, which was why he wasn't worried when he stepped onto that platform and found himself separated from everyone else. He was cocky, confident in his ability.

But even he wasn't prepared to face _this_ opponent.

"Come on, Flame," the pink dragoness giggled, a sound somehow both innocent and decidedly haunting all at once, "It's just training. If you don't fight back, you'll never learn."

"Look," Flame grunted, sounding uncharacteristically nervous as he backed away from his childhood friend, "I told you, I don't want to fight you. Dammit, Ember, I could hurt you!"

But she just smiled that naïve, childish smile, and sidled gracefully closer before he could react. Flame just barely ducked around the harsh blow she sent at him, a blow that could well have drawn blood had it struck—she wasn't fighting for training; she was fighting to kill. And the red dragon knew it.

"Can't you tell what you're doing?" he yelled, dancing sideways to avoid a burst of fire from her jaws, "Ember! Don't make me hurt you!"

"Don't hold back just because I'm a girl," she simpered, eyelids batting, and fired a concentrated bomb of flames straight at him. Flame dived to the side and it detonated only inches from his paws, throwing him off his feet and charring his scales with ash. Staggering, he turned a nervous look on the approaching pink dragoness.

She stood in the centre of the western courtyard—or, what _looked_ like the western courtyard. But there was no way they could be back in Warfang, not when only moments ago they had been deep in the Chronicler's temple.

Flame watched her approach with an inkling of fear—not for himself, but for the dragoness before him. How could he fight her like this? He'd already hurt her once before, and the memories had left an unyielding scar upon his consciousness—just as his actions back then had left her with a scar of her own. His eyes lingered hesitantly on the pale gold scales of her chest, and the discoloured off-white scar tissue that marred it just above her heart. That scar would never fade.

He couldn't fight her. Not when her life was at stake.

"I promised I'd never hurt you again," Flame begged, backing up to the very edge of the courtyard until his rump hit a tree and halted him in his tracks, "I'm not going to start now! Ember, this isn't training! Snap out of it!"

Again, the pink dragoness just smiled, eyes wide and innocent, but the sight sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn't like her at all. What was going on?

"What are you so worried about, Flame?" she giggled, lashing out as she did so with frightening force behind her blow, "Just fight back."

Flame didn't quite manage to dodge the blow—her claws caught him across the cheek when he tried to duck away, tearing bloody slashes just under his eye. Growling from the pain, the red dragon side-stepped away. He was in prime position to launch a counterattack now, but he didn't. He couldn't bring himself to. Instead, the red dragon attempted to put as much distance between himself and his friend.

Ember followed him eagerly, like a lost puppy, that gleam of naïve innocence still in her eyes. Somehow, it made her all the more formidable, at least in Flame's eyes. He swallowed hard and leapt into the air, pounding his wings, only just avoiding the firebombs she spat at him. As they exploded harmless on the cobblestones, the pink dragoness leapt after her reluctant opponent, spreading pale gold wings.

"Don't run, silly," she laughed, a tinkling, cheerful sound that scared Flame more than any malevolent chuckle could ever have, "You're not giving up, are you?"

"Yes!" the red dragon seized the opportunity eagerly, "Yes, I'm giving up, you win!"

To his horror, Ember didn't stop. She just smiled wider and flew at him, claws extended for his throat. He just barely managed to get out of the way, ducking and strafing around behind her, but he didn't attack. She spun around again to face him, eyes shining with glee.

"But that's no fun," she teased, another light giggle leaving her lips, "How will you learn if you keep giving up?"

"You're the one who's trying to kill me!" Flame yelled, frustration boiling over. He hated this—he really, truly hated this. He was a dragon who fought on the offensive, never the defensive, but now he was being forced to do just the opposite. And it didn't sit well with him at all. But the need to protect Ember well overrode any need to keep his pride in tact. He'd hurt her once before and almost lost her because of it. There was nothing that could make him hurt her again.

Or so he thought.

'_Why don't you just hurry up and kill her? She's just toying with you.'_

That voice. That horrible, familiar voice. Flame froze in midair, horrified, and in that split second he inadvertently allowed Ember to land a hit. The firebomb struck him in the centre of the chest, ironically in the very same place he'd once struck her, and sent him crashing to the cobblestones below. Groaning, the smoking red dragon crawled back to his feet.

"Oh, are you alright, Flame?" the pink dragoness called from above, her voice as genuine as could be, "I'm so sorry! I didn't realise how strong that was! You should have dodged!"

"Dammit," Flame growled under his breath, and then went rigid when the voice filled his head again. It had been a year, a whole year since he had heard it last, but there was no way he could ever forget it.

'_Kill her already and be done with it. I'm getting tired of watching her hand you your ass.'_

"Alta," the red dragon hissed through gritted teeth, clutching at his head with his forepaws, "Get the hell out of my head! You're dead, dammit!"

'_It's no use struggling,' _the voice said, sounding almost exasperated, _'You'll never break my control over you. You know that. Dumb dragon. I _own_ you.'_

Suddenly, to Flame's overwhelming horror, he felt something around his neck—something close and constricting, hugging his scales with uncomfortable warmth. With a choking sound of pure fear, the red dragon tore at the invisible necklet, claws screeching on crystal. Desperation filled him as he writhed and thrashed, but could do nothing to free himself from the clinging necklet. His vision started to blur, his head throbbed, and the urge to kill began to rise from within.

"No!" Flame croaked, thrashing on the cobblestones, "No…stop! Please!"

'_Kill her!'_

A guttural roar ripped from his throat as he felt his last shred of self-control torn ruthlessly from his mind. His body rose of its own accord and leapt into the air, powering up towards where Ember had been watching. Flame saw it all through his own eyes, powerless to stop his body doing what he feared the most. Despite his screams and pleas, which went unheard by all but himself, he could only watch helplessly as his own claws tore into Ember's flesh.

Her scream rent the air, tears flew from her eyes, and she tried desperately to get away. But the red dragon wouldn't let her, fastening his deadly sharp talons into her tail and dragging her backwards with a forceful tug. He sent her flying into the ground with a twist of his body, and dived down after her, blood-lust in his eyes. A prisoner inside his own body, Flame begged and screamed, trying to break free.

"Stop! Stop!" he roared at the top of his lungs, but his screams went unheard. Pure fear was flooding through his veins and something inside him snapped when he saw his own claws bury themselves deep in Ember's scarred chest. Her blood splattered the ground, her pleading cries began to quiet, and rage like never before filled Flame to the brim.

With a howl of a beast in agony, Flame forced himself back into his mind, his every scale glowing like a red spirit gem. Unbearable heat burned under his scales and the most uncomfortable sensation he'd ever felt spread over his entire body. It was as though his skin was too tight to encompass everything, as though he was expanding too fast for his scales to keep up. With a howl, his raised his head to the sky and exploded into an inferno.

The necklet shattered like glass, tiny particles floating in the air, accompanied by the anguish cry of a dragon somewhere far away. Fire licked at the air, burning away at whatever it could touch, until slowly it began to die, fading into feeble embers. As the ash rose from his body like wisps of smoke from his scales, Flame opened his golden eyes. They were glowing with power—and defiance.

For a long moment he just stood there, smoking, over the trembling body of the pink dragoness. Then, slowly, his shoulders relaxed and he sat down with a bump, staring at the limp form of Ember. Her blue eyes met his for a split second, a smile crossed her face, and she faded into wisps of pearl-pink mist. It was then that Flame was sure this was all just an illusion, and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"I will never hurt Ember again," he spoke to no one as the courtyard faded around him and left him floating in white, "I will never let anyone else use me for their own desires, ever again. I will never hurt my friends again. That's a promise."

Then his eyes closed, and he was spirited away.

* * *

Cold stone sent stabs of ice, like sharp blades, up through a certain purple dragon's paws with every step. The chill seemed to settle under his very scales, and he shivered involuntarily in response. He did not walk for long, stopping to linger nervously at the edge of the platform, too wary to approach the centre.

It was a flat, circular expanse of stone that he stood upon, as large as a small arena, and somehow floating in void. Flashes of violet energy arced through the air around the platform, twisting and weaving into haunting patterns, and stretched on forever in every direction.

Casting his gaze to the floor, Spyro saw the stone was marked in every spare inch with carved runes and unidentifiable patterns. They seemed to weave and connect together in odd ways, tessellating towards a centre circle of stone that was different from the rest. It was a warm shade of golden-brown, unlike the harsh, steely-brown colour of the rest of the platform, and seemed to beckon invitingly. But Spyro did not approach. The moment he did, he knew that something would appear—something unwelcome, whatever it was.

Still, he could feel the sensation of malevolent eyes trained on his being from somewhere in the void, watching his every move. Though he peered scrutinisingly into the violet energy that surrounded him, he saw nothing to suggest that such a beast was there. Nevertheless, he knew it was.

"Who's there?" his yell didn't echo. Instead, it seemed as though the void devoured it the moment it left his mouth, leaving him standing in stale silence. Spyro swallowed nervously and tried again. "Show yourself!"

Again the words were sucked away the instant they left his lips, silenced by the endless expanse of violet energy that seemed to dance in mockingly response. But this time, the suffocating silence did not last for long. Spyro felt his scales prickle as a dark voice manifested itself in the void—almost inside his own head.

"Such spirit. Such bravery. You truly are an exceptional member of your species. Or is it all just false bravado?"

Spyro took a deep breath, though the air tasted stale and didn't fully fill his lungs, and closed his eyes, "I am brave when I need to be. All warriors feel fear. Only some can master it."

A laugh, low and cold, cut through his senses, "Still spouting the nonsense of the guardians? You know they've only ever held you back."

"They taught me everything I know," Spyro retorted sharply, snapping his eyes open. He had expected to find his opponent standing there, but what he saw still made him reel backwards with shock and alarm. It was himself, yes, but not the ferocious, white-eyed beast he'd expected. No, this creature was different.

His scales, not inky blank as Spyro had expected, were a dark, clouded shade of indigo. He towered over Spyro, not nearly as big as the guardians, but large enough to cast the smaller purple dragon into shadow. Great, blood-red wings spouted from his thickset shoulders. But it was his eyes that unnerved Spyro. They were neither empty nor full of mindless malice; they were calm, confident, _intelligent_. Deep violet irises were but a shade darker than Spyro's lavender. They were his own.

"Wh-What are you?" Spyro stammered as fear ate its way into his core, unable to force anything else past his lips. The site of the dark purple dragon had left him a terrified shell of his former self.

The darker Spyro chuckled softly, "I am what you fear most, Spyro. And I am everything you are meant to be."

* * *

Cynder was on guard the instant she found herself alone and in unfamiliar territory. Her first act was not to wonder what had happened to everyone else, but rather to observe her surroundings as quickly as possible. She stood upon a circular, glass arena in the centre of a void filled with dark storm clouds that stretched in every direction. The glass itself was tinted with an unnerving red colour that matched the scales of her underbelly. She could see dark clouds roiling beneath the clear surface of the arena.

Scowling, Cynder then turned her attention on the inhabitants of this strange environment—which, currently, was only her. Her claws tapped melodiously on the glass surface as she padded slowly towards the centre of arena, keeping on her guard. Lightning flashed red through the dark storm clouds, and the black dragoness tensed at the sudden interruption to silence. Seconds later, she had a feeling she was no longer alone.

With a snarl, Cynder spun around and found herself face to face with a pitch black dragon. She recognised him instantly—the dark tendrils of energy whispering from his body, the deep red wings the colour of dried blood that spread out above him, and the soulless, glowing white eyes. Stifling a gasp, Cynder straightened out of her defensive pose without thinking, emerald eyes wide.

"Spyro?" she asked uncertainly, her voice reverberating around the arena like rumbling thunder through the clouds. A chill shuddered over her scales when the dark dragon bared blood-stained teeth in wordless response.

"Spyro, can you hear me?" Cynder tried again, somehow gently and urgently at the same time, wavering nervously on the spot, "It's me, Cynder. Remember?"

But the dark creature that looked like Spyro didn't seem to hear her words—or perhaps he just ignored them. His snarl widened, showing a mouth of deadly, filed teeth. The darkness rippled around him as he took a threatening step forward, and the glass floor of the arena chimed in response. Cynder felt the tremor that ran through the floor.

Unnerved, the black dragoness crouched defensively and pawed anxiously at the ground. Her eyes searched the dark dragon standing before her, as though seeking a weakness, or a piece of evidence to conclude that this creature really _was_ Spyro. Evidently, she found nothing that suggested otherwise, and tried once more to get through to him.

"I don't know what happened to get you like this, Spyro," she murmured softly, as though speaking to a frightened animal, "but you're safe now. I'm here and nothing is going to hurt you. But you need to come back to me."

A low growl was her own answer, and it was so full of animalistic malice that she was shaken to her very bones. Gulping on her fear, Cynder took a deep breath and wondered why he had yet to respond to any of her pleas. This was unlike him. Usually he at least showed _some_ sign that he was still there, trapped inside this monster and yearning to regain control. But this time…

"I know you're in there, Spyro," she continued, straining to keep her voice from trembling, even as the beast stalked closer, "The real you isn't like this. You know that. You just have to remember. Remember who you are; remember who your friends are; remember me. I'm here now. I'm here for you."

Where before she was sure he would have faltered, now he didn't even acknowledge she had spoken. Her heart felt as though it had turned to ice when the beast she was sure was Spyro opened his mouth and emitted a bloodcurdling roar filled to the brim with anger and malice. Then, before she could say anything more, he charged.

Cynder couldn't contain her scream.

* * *

"What are you talking about?" Spyro growled, glaring up at the larger, darker version of himself with more bravery than he felt, "_I _am who I am meant to be. And you…you are just an imposter who has stolen my body! You're the one who keeps taking control of me!"

The other Spyro laughed, his voice much deeper than that of his counterpart, "I could let you believe that, but I'd hate to let you leave with false information. I'm not controlling you at all. I am what you could become if you stopped struggling against yourself; if you stopped holding back."

"Holding back?" Spyro raised an eyebrow, faltering for a moment, "When have I ever held back? I fight with all my strength; I always have! I may not be strong enough to control the advanced elements yet, but that isn't because I'm holding back! It's because I'm weak!"

Dark Spyro threw back his head and laughed; a deep, hollow sound that seemed to reverberate in the real Spyro's very bones. Unnerved, and feeling anger growing inside him, the purple dragon waited for his dark counterpart to stop. And when he did, there was a nigh on insane grin upon his face, and for a moment he looked so alarming that Spyro felt a spike of fear pierce right through his heart.

"That's hilarious," the indigo dragon chuckled mercilessly, "a purple dragon calling himself weak? Even you aren't that naïve, Spyro. The word 'weak' could never apply to a dragon like you. Your power…is limitless."

Spyro opened his mouth to make a retort, but realised all too soon that he had nothing to say. For a moment he faltered, mouth hanging open, and then a memory surfaced at the back of his mind—a faint memory he thought he'd forgotten.

'_There was once a dragon, long ago, whose raw power was far greater than anyone had ever seen or…could imagine. In the beginning he was encouraged, and secrets of elemental mastery were passed onto him willingly by the elders. But his power…was limitless. It knew _no_ boundary. He consumed _everything_…'_

The Chronicler's long ago words echoed hauntingly inside his mind, and he felt his throat constrict with overwhelming despair. But, slowly, that despair turned to anger, indignation, and he turned furious, defiant eyes on his dark counterpart.

"I am nothing _like_ Malefor," he hissed, in a voice barely more than a whisper but laced with such venom that most dragons would have been struck by the sudden urge to run. But the dark Spyro just smiled a sick, demented smile that made his eyes gleam with malicious eagerness.

"Oh, but you are. You are like him in so many ways. But, in a way, you are right, you are nothing like him. He is nothing like you. You are _stronger_ than him. And you could accomplish _so…much…more…_"

With a howl of anguish, something deep inside Spyro snapped, and he launched himself at the dark dragon without so much as a second thought. Fury filled his entire being, and in that heart-stopping moment he wanted nothing more than to tear this imposter limb from limb. But somewhere in the dark, forgotten corners of his mind, more of the Chronicler's words come back to him—words that held so much more meaning that he'd ever dared to imagine.

'…_created by the very beast who now seeks to escape it…'_

In his fury, Spyro did not see the paw his opponent lifted to stop him. But he felt it when a heavy blow was dealt to the side of his head, and he was sent reeling across the arena, bouncing heavily across cold stone. Bruised and battered, the purple dragon raised himself up onto his elbows, glaring venomous hatred at his indigo twin.

"I created you!" Spyro yelled, his voice catching, "And I will destroy you!"

"Created me? I suppose, in a way, you did," the dark dragon chuckled and turned violet eyes on the trembling, smaller dragon, "But try all you like, Spyro, you can never escape who you really are."

On shaking legs, Spyro lifted himself from the ground and raised his head. Blood dribbled down his face from a cut just above his eyebrow, where the dark dragon's claw had nicked him. Though fear was prominent in his face, a fierce, fiery emotion blazed through it and all but masked his terror. Anger.

"It's a good thing you aren't really me, then, isn't it?" he whispered darkly. Energy was already festering in the back of his throat when those words left his lips, and the moment they did he let it loose, setting free a violent explosion of voltage that could have put the guardian of electricity to shame. It honed in on the dark, indigo dragon, pulled unstoppably towards his scales, and almost made contact. But, seconds before it could, a beam of white-hot violet energy ripped through the centre of the voltage storm and cut a smoking gash in the stone, just inches to Spyro's left.

The purple dragon froze as though turned to stone, which he may well could have been had the beam actually struck. Or perhaps he would merely have disintegrated, leaving nothing but ash behind to mark his memory. Both these possibilities were not strangers to Spyro's mind, and his whole body trembled at the thought. The crevice where the beam had struck was still smoking, as were the teeth of the dark dragon, still glowing violet with residual energy.

"Don't hold back, Spyro," he chuckled coldly, "Or you won't live to see the end of this battle."

"Y-You…how can you use that element?" the purple dragon whispered, eyes wide and haunted. His paws felt as though they were glued to the floor, and tremors racked his body.

His dark counterpart grinned maddeningly, "Because you can use it. Or were you asking how could I risk using such a dangerous, unstable element? Because I know how to use it. And you would too if you'd just stop resisting your true power."

Spyro spoke through gritted teeth this time, anger returning in a flash, "Convexity is not a power to be used lightly. It's dangerous, unpredictable, and deadly! It _kills_! And I will never use it unless I have no other choice!"

"Sooner or later, you will. But, until then, I will just have to _give_ you no choice!"

Spyro knew well enough that convexity travelled faster than any other element in existence—at least, that he knew of. He knew it was nigh on unavoidable, and deadly when it hit. And he knew he had no time to dodge when the violet beam of energy shot straight towards his chest.

* * *

Cynder rolled to the side at the last second, pushing hard against the glass floor with her hind legs to propel herself out of harms way. She heard the click and shriek of claws on glass only inches away as Spyro hit the ground and skidded from his missed strike. Snarling, the dark dragon whirled around with all the grace of a wild animal and powered towards the dragoness, slipping on the glass for only a moment.

Again, Cynder dodged, using the slick surface of the arena to her advantage and sliding out of the range of his lashing talons. She dug her claws in to regain control, leaving thin, shallow scratches on the red-tinted glass. Spyro's head snapped around towards her, his eyes glowing with mindless fury.

"Spyro!" the black dragoness howled, "Listen to me! I know you're in there! You can fight this! You can—!"

She cut herself off with a shriek as harsh flames leapt from the dark dragon's jaws and coursed towards her. With a powerful beat of her wings, Cynder leapt into the air as the torrent of fire festered beneath her, scorching the tip of her tail. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she angled down with another strained beat of her wings and shot like an arrow towards Spyro. Her forepaws collided with his back with crippling force, slamming him into the cold, hard surface of the glass arena.

The black dragoness sprung off him and landed awkwardly a few feet away, slipping on the glass floor as she strained to regain her balance. Her heart was pounding violently inside her chest, as though straining to get out, and her throat was tight with barely controlled panic.

'_Why isn't he listening to me…?' _her inner voice cried, _'Why won't he listen?'_

"Sp-Spyro?" Cynder stammered uncertainly after she realised the dark dragon was no longer moving. She took a hesitant step forward, claws clicking on glass, and then froze. A low hum was thrumming through the surface beneath her paws, starting at the point where Spyro's shadow-slicked body lay and spreading outwards in waves. The humming intensified, to the point where Cynder feared the entire glass arena was going to shatter, until Spyro surged upwards with a guttural roar.

Cynder screamed in agony as voltage lanced through her body and electricity danced in the air around her, arcing from the black scales of the formally purple dragon. It overwhelmed her senses with unbearable pain and turned her vision white; all she could hear was a high-pitched shriek that pierced her eardrums and drilled into her brain. It wasn't until the pain stopped that Cynder realised it was her own scream.

Gasping for breath, limbs twitching spasmodically, Cynder collapsed onto glass as the electric fury faded and died. She drew in short, shallow gasps of air, feeble and helpless against the residual voltage that caused her whole body to twitch and spasm. Smoke curled up from her scales, but the only one who was around to see it was the one who had caused her this pain.

Even as Cynder's spasms became less violent and eventually stopped, the dark beast that was Spyro stalked closer. He stood over her prone body, white-fire eyes glaring animalistic hatred at her lustreless scales. Lips curling in a snarl, he raised a paw and brought his talons slashing down.

Cynder's scythe tailblade blocked his blow, just barely, knocking his claws away before they could slice into her flesh. She scrambled weakly away, still gasping, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Staring into his empty eyes, void of all emotion but mindless anger, the dragoness felt terror eat its way inside her heart.

'_He won't listen to me… he can't hear me…'_

It had terrified her for weeks, the thought that eventually the purple dragon would sink to place far beyond her reach. She had always been able to bring him out of the darkness, but what if a time came when she could not? What if a time came when he refused to listen to her? When she would lose him forever…

'_He's going to kill me.'_

* * *

In the split second he had to think before the beam of convexity hit, Spyro let fear guide his actions. Purple energy leapt from his jaws and collided with the indigo dragon's beam, a millisecond before it had the chance to strike Spyro down. What resulted was a flash of blinding, white light, and the purple dragon felt himself pushed violently back. Wrenching his head to the side and snapping his jaws shut, he waited until the glare faded before he opened his eyes again.

His indigo counterpart stood calmly on the other side of the arena, a satisfied grin etched across his dark face. Panting heavily from the sudden exertion of using his most powerful element, Spyro gnashed his teeth and glowered at his opponent.

"Is that what you wanted?" he yelled across the arena, voice reverberating angrily through the void. It was hard to place why he felt so furious now—was it because he despised the element of convexity for its destructive, merciless power? Or was it merely that he feared it, and was masking that with anger?

"Yes," the darker Spyro grinned, violet eyes flashing victoriously, "I knew you had the power. Now you just need to use it. Prove to me that you can become what you are meant to be. Or…I will kill you."

"I would rather die than become someone like you," Spyro spat, digging his claws into stone, "I don't care what happens. I will never become anything like Malefor. And I will never become you! I will destroy you _without_ convexity!"

The confident smile dropped from his darker double's face to be replaced with an ugly look of hate, "So be it. Then you will die, and I will take your place. After all, I am the real you. And since you cannot accept that, you no longer have the right to live in my name."

"It's _my_ name!" Spyro shrieked, all trepidation suddenly lost as though borne away on a fleeting wind. With a passionate howl of sudden confidence, the purple dragon charred across the arena in a comet of flame. He collided with the chest of his darker self with such force that the both of them were pushed back to the edge of the arena, leaving jagged scars in the stone floor from their lethal talons.

Spyro skidded away from his opponent, smoking at the edges, feeling dazed from the collision. He stopped barely an inch from the edge of the arena and the threatening void of empty, purple energy below. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the darker dragon lunge, claws bared. Gasping, Spyro struggled upright and shielded his face with a wing. Stone encased him, seemingly of its own accord, jagged edges knitting together seamlessly to create a shield of earth.

The purple dragon yelled out in alarm as his opponent slammed his paws into the stone, shattering the shield and sending him tumbling across the arena. He skidded dangerously close to the edge and cried out when he felt one of his back legs slip over the rim. Scrambling desperately with his front paws, he managed to drag himself up before gravity could drag him off the platform and to his inevitable doom in the endless void.

But only seconds after escaping death, Spyro raised his head to find himself once more staring into the face of his demise. The indigo dragon had opened his jaws, and his fangs were glowing with violet energy, ready to strike. Spyro didn't even give himself time to cry out; he knew he didn't have that luxury. With a beat of his wings he sprang into the air, but it was only by forcing a gust of wind to propel him higher that he narrowly avoided the bolt of convexity that shot below him.

"Dammit," Spyro swore under his breath, muscles aching already from the short but intense fight. Against a creature that used the power of convexity he knew he stood a grim chance. Only Malefor had he ever faced who had held that ability, and back then Cynder had been by his side. Nevertheless, he wasn't one to give up. Convexity was a dangerously strong element, yes, but not even it could make its wielder invulnerable.

The icicle he spat at his darker self was as thick and long as one of his forelegs, and the dark dragon down below didn't see it coming. He howled in agony as the icicle cut straight through his scales and imbedded itself between his shoulders. A normal dragon would have been brought to his knees, if not killed, by such an injury. However, to Spyro's horror, this dark dragon just craned his head to reach the spear of ice, fastened his teeth around it, and pulled it mercilessly from his flesh.

Blood pulsed from the horrific wound as the indigo dragon crushed the bloodied icicle between his deadly fangs, sending shards of ice flying in every direction. Horrified, Spyro could only stare as his demented double turned a malicious grin towards him.

"Attacking from behind isn't very noble of you, Spyro," he hissed, licking blood from his fangs, "Taking this battle to the air, are we?"

And before Spyro could respond, the larger dragon had powered into the air and stopped, hovering, only inches in front of him. Spyro took one look at his blood-stained grin and murderous eyes before terror turned his blood cold. The dark dragon raised his paws.

"Die."

With a guttural roar, he slammed his paws into the purple dragon with devastating force. Spyro's scream was cut short as the ground rushed up to meet him, and he hit stone with a horrible crunch, shattering shards of rock and sending them flying in a cloud of choking dust.

* * *

Cynder closed her eyes and turned her face away, shielding her body half-heartedly with a wing. She didn't have to will to defend herself as the dark monster that was once Spyro stalked ever closer to her trembling form. She couldn't fight him; how could she fight the dragon she loved? He was still in there, somewhere unreachable, she knew it. How could she fight him? It was hopeless…

"I'm sorry, Spyro…" she whispered, with such emotion that the real purple dragon would have been stopped dead in his tracks. But the shadowy dragon didn't even seem to hear her. He just bared horribly blood-stained teeth, and lunged.

'…_and face alone your greatest fear…'_

Sudden energy filled Cynder's body and she uncurled herself with violent force, whipping the dark dragon across the face with her tailblade, interrupting his lunge and sending him flying. Her emerald eyes blazed with fury as she approached his prone, shadow-covered form.

"You," she hissed, bristling with anger and indignation, "You're not Spyro at all!"

With a yell, she leapt upon him, tearing into his dark flesh with sharp, silver talons and sending drops of blood flying. The shadowed dragon emitted a shriek of agony and writhed beneath her, trying desperately to throw her off. One of his hind legs found her underbelly, and with a mighty kick he sent her tumbling off his body.

Wincing at the slashes in her crimson scales, Cynder rolled back to her feet and glared bitter hatred at the dragon that looked just like the monster Spyro had become many times before. Her talons curled to bite scratches into the red glass beneath her feet, anger boiling deep inside her gut. She could hardly believe she hadn't realised sooner what was happening.

"I believe in Spyro," she snarled at the growling beast, "I know he would never become something like you, no matter how scared I am of such a thing happening. I may be afraid of losing him, but I have faith in him. It was my own stupid fears that created you! You are _not_ Spyro!"

And, so saying, she opened her jaws and expelled a blast of roiling, red energy. With an ear-piercing shriek, it consumed the dark dragon and trapped him in a cage of fear and agony. As his agonised howls reached higher octaves, Cynder smiled grimly with triumph, and charged the paralysed dragon. Her claws and tailblade began to glow with a sickly, acidic green light, pulsing dangerously.

With a yell of triumph, the black dragoness leapt towards her opponent, pushing hard with her hind legs and spreading her wings. Her front claws dug deep into his flesh, spreading venom through his veins as she powered upwards, tearing jagged gashes through his scales. Her black claws deepened the gashes, spraying blood across the already red-tinged glass floor, and her tailblade finished the job as she curved gracefully into a back flip in the air. The scythe blade—coated with malicious poison—bit deep into the agonised dragon's flesh, tearing a deep, jagged gash from underbelly to shoulder.

Cynder landed lightly on the glass surface of the arena as the shadowy copy of Spyro crumpled listlessly to the ground. His head hit the floor with a strange, hollow thrum that rippled through the glass beneath her feet. Blood dribbled from between his fangs as it pulsed from the horrific open wounds in his body. Empty eyes remained wide open—lifeless.

"And I am not afraid of you," Cynder hissed with an air of finality as she glared down at her defeated opponent. She only had a moment to savour her victory before the body of the dark dragon disappeared, and everything faded to white.

* * *

Spyro wasn't even sure if he was still alive. For a moment he just felt numb and incomplete, like a broken doll. But then the pain returned without mercy, and a groan forced its way passed his lips. His whole body ached, and his wing in particular burned like fire. A short breath drew a large amount of dust into his lungs, and he coughed feverously to expel it.

"Still alive?" asked a mocking voice, and he heard something heavy land nearby.

Moaning, Spyro uncurled himself, feeling chips of lose shift under and around him. His eyes blinked open slowly and he found himself lying at the feet of his opponent. The larger, darker version of himself just smiled coldly, violet eyes narrowing.

"Impressive. But you won't be for long."

The dark dragon raised his paw to crush Spyro into oblivion, but the purple dragon was suddenly struck by the urge to continue living. With a shout of agony, he forced his battered body out of the way as the larger dragon's paw came crashing down on the spot where he had been laying. His wing screamed out, and Spyro almost collapsed as a spike of pain was driven up into his shoulder. Gasping, he let his wing drag brokenly on the ground.

"N-No…" he stammered, staggering backwards as his dark double turned towards him. This was it. His wing was broken, his body was beaten, and he had no strength to continue the fight. Had he truly come this far just to die here, at his own claws? But that thought made Spyro shudder violently and he shook his head roughly.

"No! I'm not…I'm not like you…" but the conviction he had had before was gone from his voice. Now, he wasn't even sure if he believed that.

"Face it, Spyro. I am what you are destined to become."

What would happen if he died here? Would this monster take his place, slaughter his friends, and turn all his nightmares into truth? Would this beast become the next Dark Master in _his_ name? Who was Spyro now, anyway? He wasn't sure he knew anymore…

'_You're not Spyro!'_

The purple dragon's head shot up as a clear, familiar voice rang through his mind. He knew that voice… But when he looked around frantically for its source, he found nothing there. He was alone, but for the dark version of himself as he bore down upon him. It must have been his imagination playing tricks upon him…

'_I believe in Spyro! I know he would never become something like you!'_

Spyro couldn't stifle a gasp. He knew he had heard it that time—Cynder's voice. It was as though she was crying out to him, giving him hope and encouragement when he needed it most. Warmth bloomed in his heart as he heard her voice echo through his mind once more.

'_I have faith in him!'_

Newfound strength surged through his being, and Spyro stood tall despite his injuries, still covered in dust.

"I will not let Cynder down!" he yelled, his voice booming like thunder. His dark counterpart stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

Spyro's body began to shiver with energy, and strings of electricity arced over his purple scales. He gritted his teeth, clenched his claws, and threw his head to the sky, roaring with all his might.

"I will _never_ become like you!"

A bolt of lightning ripped through the void, and bore straight down upon the dark, indigo dragon. He didn't even get a chance to cry out before it struck, and his whole body was encased in brilliant, white light. The resulting explosion threw Spyro off his feet, but he jumped back up almost instantly, his injuries all but forgotten. When the smoke cleared, his indigo double lay twitching on the stone floor, residual voltage still sparking across his dark scales. Spyro snarled and stalked closer as the larger dragon struggled to push himself back to his feet.

"If I let you win, no one would be safe," the purple dragon growled, a hot fire gnawing at his belly, "Not my friends, not Warfang, not the world. For their sake…I will defeat you!"

The dark dragon screamed in fear and agony as lava erupted from Spyro's jaws and coated his chest and legs. It ate eagerly at his indigo scales with a horrible hissing sound, and fires burst to life all along his limbs, creeping up towards his face. His shrieks and howls fell on deaf ears as he tried desperately to brush the festering lava off, but it clung insistently to his scales, eating its way into his flesh. Fire was consuming him.

Spyro watched coldly, emotionlessly, as his double was consumed slowly by the raging flames. In his hatred of the indigo beast, he had all but forgotten his dislike of killing. In fact, he had forgotten most things, except that he wanted this creature to die in the most painful way possible. He thought of nothing else until there was nothing left of the dark dragon but a pile of pitiful ashes.

A cold, triumphant laugh echoed through the void. Spyro was dragged unpleasantly back to his senses, and the joy of watching his enemy die disappeared in a flash. Gazing upon the ashes of the dragon, he felt suddenly filthy and ashamed.

"What…what was I…?" a hollow, haunted look entered his eyes, but he didn't get much of chance to wallow in his own shame.

With a flash, the void dissolved into white and carried Spyro away.

* * *

Roku strode slowly through the empty streets of Ethra, the stone paths rough and earthy beneath his paws, a comfortable, familiar sensation. Even the silence was welcoming, just as it had always been in the early mornings when he'd woken well before anyone else. The sight, the scent, the feeling of home filled him from the paws up. But something wasn't right.

The black dragon felt strangely unreal as he weaved through the streets, following a path his paws had long since memorised. It was as though he wasn't really here at all, trapped in a dream land from which he could not escape. His scales tingled unpleasantly, and he remembered where he was supposed to be. The White Isle…the Chronicler…the others…

But he didn't get long to wonder where they might have gone before all such thoughts were suddenly erased from his head. The sight before him froze him solid with shock. He stood on the outskirts of the underground city, just metres from the tunnel that led to the outside world. But, between him and the tunnel, stood three dragons—two adults, and a small, black hatchling.

Roku recognised himself immediately. His hatchling self was a few years younger than Domino was now, but he looked startlingly similar. Pure black scales covered his small, chubby body, and a pair of stubby, white horns curled from his head. Roku noticed with a wry smile that he was now twice the size of his younger self. But then his eyes shifted to the other two dragons, and the smile faded.

Though they were familiar to him, to some degree they felt like strangers—perhaps, over the years, he had begun to forget what they had looked like. The female was longer, slender, and grey-scaled, with beautiful dark eyes and wide, white wings. The male beside her was of a bulkier build, but not overly so—he would have looked frail beside a male dragon of another element. His scales, like that of his son, were stark black, and his underbelly a violently contrasting shade of pure white. The eyes that stared from his kind face were Roku's in every way.

"Father…Mother…" Roku sighed wistfully, and then froze when the higher-pitched voice of his younger self cut him off.

"I want to go with you!" the chubby black dragon cried, his voice full of desperation, "I can fight!"

But the slender grey dragoness shook her head, "No, Roku, you know it is too dangerous for you out there."

"War is no place for a hatchling," her mate rumbled, his voice as gentle as possible, "We need you to stay here and care for your brother…and the rest of the unhatched eggs."

"But I don't want to!" little Roku cried, his voice catching, and for the first time his older self noticed the egg that sat between the hatchling's paws. It was a strange sort of egg, splotched with equal patches of black and white. Roku knew that, inside that egg, the unhatched Domino was stirring.

"I want to fight with you! I'm strong, I'll show you!"

"Roku," his mother said sharply, her dark eyes stern, "Stop this. You cannot come with us."

"But, mother!"

"No, son," his father sighed, "she is right. But we have something much more important we need you to do."

The black hatchling faltered, tears brimming in his large, emerald eyes, "Wh-what?"

Roku's father smiled, "We need you to protect this place, Roku. You are the only one who can now. When we leave, you will be the oldest dragon here—and you must help Master Selador to protect this city. She is still not yet fully recovered, and she will need your help. As the eldest hatchling in this city, it is up to you to make sure Ethra is safe for our return. Can you do that?"

The young Roku choked back his tears, hugging the egg that contained his younger brother close to his chubby body, "You want me…to protect this place?"

"We know you can do it," his mother said gently, smiling fondly, "Protect the city, protect your brother, and wait for us to return. It is a very important job, but we know you can do it."

Roku sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes, "I-I can do it! I know I can. I'll protect this place until you return, I promise!"

The older Roku smiled fondly as he beheld the scene, a strange warmth gathering in the pit of his stomach. Though the memory was a bittersweet one now, he still retained it with fondness. He had kept that promise.

"I know you will…" his father whispered, and to Roku's surprise the three of them, as well as Domino's egg, began to fade.

The black dragon closed his eyes with a sigh, wishing he could have seen his parents just for a little longer, even if they had been unaware of his presence—even if he hadn't really been there at all. But then a strange wind blew over his dark scales, and a sick feeling grew within his gut and began to spread throughout his body. Slowly, Roku turned around to face the city, and opened his eyes.

Ethra was crumbling.

The emerald eyes of the earth dragon widened in horror as he beheld his city in a state he'd only ever had nightmares of. The streets were littered with the bodies of the dead, and the buildings were crumbling to dust all around them. Smoke poured from dying fires, choking the air, blocking the light that usually bled from the roof of the cavern. The streets ran red with blood, and to his horror Roku say that his paws were stained with it.

"No!" he yelled in anguish as he heard the thunderous sound of one of the buildings crumbling into rubble before his eyes. Desperately, the black dragon ran back into the city. But he didn't get very far before the sound of beating wings behind him made him skid to a halt.

"You lied," said a dark, bitter voice. Roku spun around in alarm and almost choked on a gasp. His father stood before him, as real as his own paws, a look of bitter hatred on his formerly kind face.

"Fa-Father?" the black earth dragon stammered, eyes impossibly wide, "H-how? You died! …Didn't you?"

But his father didn't seem to hear him. The larger black dragon stepped forward slowly, his whole body trembling with anger, eyes blazing with a furious fire. Roku took a hesitant step back, fear gathering in the pit of his stomach.

"You promised you'd protect this place!" his father growled, and those words were like a blow to the gut for the younger dragon, "You promised you'd protect _everyone_!"

"Bu…But I did!" Roku exclaimed, frantic, "I did protect everyone! The war is over! Ethra is safe!"

"Ethra is destroyed!" his father roared, and Roku shrunk back in horror, "Why did you break your promise? Why did you let everyone _die_?"

"No!" Roku yelled, gesturing desperately at the devastation around them, "This isn't…this can't…! This never happened! I would never break my promise!"

His father lashed out so quickly that the earth dragon didn't get the chance to dodge. The hefty black paw slammed into his side, tossing him into the side of a ruined building like he was nothing more than a sack of bones. Roku's gasp of pain was cut short as he slammed into broken stone and fell, covered in rubble, wincing. The older black dragon stalked forward until he was standing over his son, eyes blazing.

"I should never have called you my son," he snarled, and slammed his paw down. Roku screamed in agony as he felt his ribs shatter, and tasted blood at the back of his throat when a violent cough wracked his body. Through pained, watering eyes, he stared pleadingly up at his father, willing him to understand. But he didn't understand himself—everything was safe, wasn't it? Everyone had moved on to Warfang; the city was deserted, but had been undamaged when they had left. And his father…his father was dead. Wasn't he?

"Y-You don't…understand," Roku gasped, straining for breath and struggling not to cough, "I would never…let anything happen to Ethra…and everyone. They're safe…I swear it…they're safe…"

'_I don't understand… How is this happening?'_

"No son of mine breaks a promise," his father growled coldly, and it seemed as though he couldn't hear Roku's words, "You failed. And only death redeems failure."

"No…" Roku croaked, struggling against the paw that held him down, "No…please…"

His father's claws dug into his scales, drawing blood that dribbled in rivulets down his black scales. The earth dragon gritted his teeth, tears of pain escaping from his tightly shut eyes. He could hardly breathe, agony wracked his body, and he couldn't even move. In that instant, everything seemed hopeless. Until he remembered something.

"No," Roku choked out, his talons curling, "This didn't happen. I didn't fail. This is all just an illusion…an illusion of what I fear. I can't…give up…"

The ground trembled under him, and his father faltered, the paw that held Roku down lifting slightly. Then, to his great surprise, a pillar of stone shot up from the ground beneath him, slamming right into his gut. The adult dragon was thrown off his son with a howl, and his heavy body slammed violently into the buildings on the other side of the street. Gasping for breath, Roku painstakingly pushed himself up.

His body screamed in protest as he staggered to his feet, his shattered ribs sending lances of agony through every nerve. Roku stumbled, leaning against the building for support, his eyes misted over with pain. But he raised his head defiantly, and stared across the street to where his father was struggling out of a pile of rubble.

"You failed to protect your family, your city, your friends," the older dragon spat, blood rolling down his face, "You are a disgrace, Roku. And you are not my son."

Roku snarled, his claws curling around the rubble that littered the ground, "My real father would never say such a thing. I…am not…a _failure_!"

A roar leapt from his throat, accompanied by a missile of earth that shot across the arena and slammed with rib-cracking force into the adult dragon's chest. Roku winced as he heard something crack and the older dragon was thrown backwards again by the force of the blow. But he didn't get long to savour his victory—his opponent suddenly cracked open his jaws and expelled a gust of elemental wind that threw Roku off his feet. His father's element.

Roku yelled out in alarm as he was carried into the air by the mini twister, his wings flapping uselessly in a feeble attempt to steady himself. Before he could do anything, he was suddenly thrown out of the tornado and sent crashing forcefully into the ground. Rubble was tossed in every direction as his body hit the earth, cracking the streets and enticing a yell of agony from the black dragon's lips. For a moment he lay still, unable to move.

Cracking open an eye, Roku saw the blade of wind seconds before it was too late. He forced his battered body to the side, but couldn't quite avoid the blade as it lashed across his shoulder and splattered his blood across the ground. Jaw tight, the earth dragon turned furious eyes on the incarnation of his father.

"How dare you take his face…" he whispered, "How dare you look like my father? Damn you!"

With a howl, he slammed his paws into the earth, opening a crack in the rubble-strewn street. It spread from his paws towards his father with impossible speed, opening a thin chasm in the middle of the street. The instant it reached the larger dragon, deadly sharp stalagmites erupted from within the crevice, surrounding him. Roku heard his howl of pain as he was no doubt impaled by many of them. With a triumphant snarl, he opened his jaws and shot another missile of earth.

The missile blasted straight through the forest of stalagmites, and Roku say the body of his opponent for a split second before a cloud of dust obscured him. He covered his face with a wing to protect his eyes from the dust, and only uncovered it once everything had settled. Silence filled the street as Roku slowly plodded towards his fallen adversary.

"You aren't my father," he muttered, gazing down at the broken black dragon, "My father died honourably in the war. And I didn't fail. I kept my promise."

Scowling, the earth dragon made to turn away, but something stopped him. A low, gurgling chuckle echoed from the throat of the fallen dragon, and Roku spun around. A smile had spread across the older dragon's bloodied face.

"Do you really believe that?" he chuckled darkly, blood spilling from his mouth, "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep. Sooner or later you will fail, my son. You can't keep winning forever, and on that day you fail to protect your friends…you fail to keep your promise…"

Then, with a last gurgle, he fell silent. Roku stared, horrified, unable to come up with the words to respond, even as the world faded to white around him. His face was still set in that wide-eyed, horrified expression when he reappeared in the room of trials at the Chronicler's temple. The black dragon staggered and almost fell, but suddenly something warm and solid was there, holding him up. A familiar voice spoke close to his head.

"Roku! Man, you look like you've seen a ghost. Hah, stupid, you probably saw something pretty horrible, huh?"

Roku groaned and rubbed his face with a paw, blinking as he came back to his senses. The first thing he noticed was that his injuries had completely disappeared, as though they'd never been there in the first place. It was Flame's shoulder he was leaning against, and it took him a moment to regain his composure enough to meet the red dragon's eyes. Flame cocked an eyebrow.

"You ok?" he grunted, looking the black dragon over, "Not, uh, that you'd enjoy facing your greatest fear, but…feels kinda weird to see you so shaken up. Usually you act like nothing could faze you."

Roku thought he caught a tiny note of annoyance—or was it jealousy?—behind those words, but didn't think much of it. He took a deep breath to calm his shaken nerves and quell the shivers that were still running under his scales. Then he offered the red dragon a strained smile.

"I'm alright. Mostly."

Looking around, the earth dragon quickly noticed they were the only ones in the room. When he questioned Flame about it, the fire dragon just shrugged.

"Guess we completed the test before anyone else. Hey, what did you see?"

Roku's jaw stiffened and it was a moment before he replied, "That doesn't matter."

Flame considered him closely, his golden gaze scrutinising, and then shrugged again, "Right. Guess that was a kinda personal question."

"What about you?" the black dragon asked carefully, wondering whether Flame would be more forthcoming that he had been. But the red dragon scuffed his paws on the dark stone floor and gave only an elusive answer.

"Let's just say I'm not too fond of oracles," he muttered. Roku eyed him curiously, but didn't get another chance to question him before Zannak materialised before them in a brief flash of light.

The gold dragon staggered unsteadily for a moment before he regained his balance, and his head shot up when Flame called his name. Roku noticed with a start the tears that were flowing unchecked from Zannak's eyes. His gold-scaled cheeks were unusually pale and his paws were shaking.

"Are you alright?" the earth dragon asked concernedly, and to his surprise he was answered by a wide grin from the electric dragon.

"Yeah," Zannak said, grinning as though he couldn't feel the tears slipping from his eyes, "Yeah, I'm good."

"You don't look it," Flame grunted, raising an eyebrow at the gold dragon's state. Like Roku, all of Zannak's wounds had been mysteriously healed. It was as though he'd never been injured at all.

Zannak rubbed the moisture from his cheeks, still grinning, "A lot of stuff happened. Guess my eyes were a little overwhelmed. See, they're flooding!"

"Your eyes?" Flame muttered sceptically, "What about the rest of you?"

"Nah, I'm good," all the tears gone, Zannak raised his head again and grinned from cheek to cheek. Flame looked bewildered.

"Right, whatever," the fire dragon shrugged, while Zannak looked around the mostly empty room. The candles around the platform in the centre were still alight, their tiny tongues of flame granting the room a warm glow.

"So…we finished first?" the gold dragon wondered aloud, "Man, would have thought Spyro would'a been here at least, seeing as he's done this before."

Roku looked darkly at the platform, recalling his own battle with his fears, "Who knows what everyone else is facing? We could be waiting for a while. Give them time."

In was almost a whole minute before someone else showed up. The three dragons all jumped when the air flashed in front of them and Kazan materialised out of nowhere. The dark crimson dragon looked severely shaken, and spun around frantically on the spot as though he'd forgotten where he was, panting heavily.

"Wha-what? What happened?" he stammered, gulping, before he noticed the others, "Did I win?"

"Probably," Flame grunted, feeling unsympathetic towards the other fire dragon, "Otherwise you wouldn't be back here."

Kazan let out a ragged sigh of relief, "Thank the ancestors…"

"Is this everyone?" he asked next, looking around, "What happened to the others?"

"They're not back yet," Zannak shrugged, "Guess we beat them to it. So, Kazan, gonna tell us what you saw?"

The crimson fire dragon grimaced, "No thanks…I'd rather forget. Who are we missing?"

"Erm…Spyro, Cynder, Saffron, and…Ember," Zannak counted them off on his talons as he spoke, and no sooner had he spoken Ember's name did she appear before them in a flash of light.

"Flame!" the pink dragoness shrieked the instant she appeared, throwing herself at the red dragon and knocking him over onto his back. He didn't get a chance to protest before she pushed her snout against his, her tears rolling onto his scales. She broke the kiss seconds later with a sob and buried her face in his shoulder, her whole body trembling. Roku looked politely away, but the others stared in bewilderment.

"E-Easy, Ember," Flame stammered, stroking her violet head-crest with a paw, still pinned on his back by her body, "It's alright. You're safe now."

"I-I was so scared," Ember whispered into his neck, her voice catching as tears rolled down her pearl-pink cheeks, "I thought I'd lost you again…"

The red dragon's expression hardened and he held her tighter, choosing to ignore the cold ground pressing into his scales, "Don't worry…I'll never hurt you again. No matter what happens. I promise."

Ember nodded timidly and slipped off his chest, rubbing her eyes with a paw. Flame rolled onto his belly and pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders where they had come into contact with the cold, hard ground. Looking sheepish, the pink dragoness stood up and composed herself, taking a deep breath and blinking the film of tears from her eyes.

"Sorry about that," she said with an embarrassed smile, noticing the looks she was getting from the others. Kazan looked away, apparently embarrassed by the scene he'd just witnessed, but Zannak grinned.

"No worries," the electric dragon told her. Flame smirked.

"Yeah, just try not to knock me over again," he murmured in Ember's ear. She blushed crimson and nodded quickly. Then her eyes shifted around the room and a concerned look crossed her face.

"Where are Spyro and Cynder?" she asked anxiously, glancing at Flame.

"They're not back yet," he said darkly, "and neither is Saffron."

"I hope they're ok," the pink dragoness sighed, glancing nervously at the centre platform. The candle-flames flickered hauntingly.

"Me too," Zannak muttered beside her.

Minutes dragged by in nervous silence, each with their own thoughts, but each wondering what was happening to the three that had yet to return. Ember was just getting wondered when suddenly the air shimmered and Cynder appeared, looking shaken but unharmed. She breathed a deep sigh of relief when she saw the others, and accepted the hug when Ember ran over to her.

"Oh, Cynder, you're ok!" the pink dragoness cried, hugging her with her wings, "I was getting so worried…"

"I'm alright," Cynder told her gently and Ember stepped away, "Just shaken. Is everyone else ok?"

"We're fine," Flame replied, stretching and looking at the others, "Looks like Spyro and Saffron still aren't back yet, though."

Worry crossed the black dragoness's face, "I'm sure they're fine…"

She didn't sound convinced though, and Ember exchanged a worried glance with Flame. They didn't have to wait long, however, before the air shimmered again and another of their number returned. Spyro was almost gasping for breath, his purple scales much paler than usual and his hollow eyes full of a blind sort of horror. His limbs trembled and for a moment it looked like he was about to collapse. Cynder was at his side at once.

"Spyro!" she cried, wrapping her paws around his shoulders and pulling him into her chest, "Are you alright? Spyro?"

The purple dragon trembled in her hold, and buried his face in her chest, "Cynder…Cynder… Oh ancestors…I killed him. I…I was _enjoying_ it…"

A sob broke from his lips and Cynder felt moisture on her scales, but she didn't pull away. Her jaw tight, she hugged Spyro tighter and began to stroke his crest with a paw, whispering soothingly in his ear. His whole body trembled with gasping sobs.

"It's alright, Spyro," she whispered, "It was all just an illusion…a test. And you did it Spyro, you completed it. You succeeded. It's ok."

"But…but I…" he drew in a shaky breath, unable to find the words to explain what had happened. She just shook her head, encircling him with her crimson wings.

"Shh, it doesn't matter. You're here now. It's over."

"Man," Flame grunted, watching the pair with a dark look on his face, "Talk about a harsh test. Half of you have been reduced to tears already."

"Flame!" Ember hissed, nudging him none-too-gently, "Don't be so insensitive!"

"What?" he growled, looking almost offended, "I'm just saying it how it is! It's not like I'm mocking him or anything… I know how hard it is to face a fear. We're all pretty shaken up."

"You got that right," Kazan muttered grudgingly, watching as Spyro slowly regained his composure, "We might have all faced our fears, but what about Saffron? She's still not here…"

"Oh yeah…" Ember murmured, suddenly anxious all over again. She glanced towards the centre platform, as though expecting and hoping the yellow dragoness would appear at any moment. But she didn't.

"Dammit," Zannak growled, and everyone glanced at him, "She better be ok."

Nervous silence answered this remark, broken only by Spyro decreasing sobs. Eventually, the purple dragon came back to his senses enough to slip out of Cynder's hold and rub away the tears that had stained his cheeks. Looking ashamed, he apologised to the others, but they just waved him off.

"Relax, Spyro," Flame told him, "Everyone's a bit out of sorts at the moment. I tell you, meeting this Chronicler guy better be worth all this trouble."

The minutes passed in silence after that, and still there was no sign of Saffron. Now the group were definitely getting worried. What could be keeping the yellow dragoness? What sort of horrors could she possibly be facing that had delayed her so much? Zannak was pacing around the room to relieve his tension, but his muscles were still uncomfortably tense with worry.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed after several minutes had passed, "Saffron, where are you?"

The echo of his yell bounced around the room a few times before it faded. Cynder and Ember exchanged glances, and evidently the two were thinking the same thing because they asked at the same time, "Do you think she can hear us?"

"Who knows?" Kazan said thoughtfully, standing up, "Hey, Saffron! If you can hear us, don't give up, ok? We're waiting for you!"

Zannak's eyes lit up, "Right, Saffron, we're all rooting for you! We know you can do this!"

"Your friends are here, Saffron!" Ember cried, "We believe in you!"

"You're a strong dragoness, you can do this!" Cynder added, desperately hoping that somewhere, somehow, the electric dragoness would hear.

* * *

Saffron cried out as the ground rose up to meet her, colliding harshly with her shoulder and tearing gashes in her scales. Gasping for breath, the yellow dragoness curled in on herself as she lay prone on the cobblestone ground. White emptiness stretched all around her, but she was not alone. Another dragoness stalked closer, her talons covered with Saffron's blood, her scales as white as snow.

"Fight back, you coward," Zephira spat, looming over the trembling electric dragoness, "All of this is your fault! You should at least give me the satisfaction of watching you struggle as you die!"

But Saffron just curled up tighter, her body shaking with dry sobs, "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. P-Please forgive me…"

"Coward!" Zephira shrieked, lashing out with her talons and biting deep into Saffron's flesh, tearing blood gashes down her side, "This is your fault! You let Ciro die; you let the panthers destroy my wing! It's your fault I can't fly anymore, your fault my brother is dead, _your fault_! I hate you!"

The yellow dragoness hid her face under her paws, tears of agony rolling down her cheeks, "It was me…it was all me. I'm so, _so_ sorry, Zephira. It was my fault. It was."

A shriek was ripped from Zephira's lips and she lifted Saffron with an ease that her frail body should not have been able to do, throwing her angrily across the cobblestones. Her body bounced like a broken doll, and the yellow dragoness lay still, her wings splayed out at odd angles and her blood left in streaks across the floor. Saffron coughed violently, tasting blood at the back of her throat.

"Just kill me," she begged in a haunting whisper. She couldn't even look the white dragoness in the eye anymore, let alone fight her. At the start she had been unable to fight her. How could she try to hurt her best friend when she had already hurt her so much? It was inconceivable. "Please…kill me…"

"You should suffer," Zephira spat, stalking over to her again, "Suffer like you made _me_ suffer! Or do you think you don't deserve that?"

Saffron swallowed hard and shook her head feebly, her tears wetting the cobblestones under her chin. She covered her face as the white dragon stopped beside her and raised her arrow-head tailblade, preparing to plunge it into her defenceless body. This was it. This was the end. Such a fitting end, too…

'_I'm so sorry, Zephira…'_

"_Saffron! If you can hear us, don't give up, ok? We're waiting for you!"_

Saffron's eyes opened suddenly and she rolled out of the way seconds before Zephira could impale her. Panting, the yellow dragoness looked around frantically for the owner of the voice. She was sure that had sounded just like…

"_Right, Saffron, we're all rooting for you! We know you can do this!"_

"Zannak?" Saffron cried out, backing up slowly, head swinging to and fro feverishly, "Is that you? Where are you?"

But her brother's voice didn't answer her. Nevertheless, this time she heard Ember's voice ring true through the void. And she was positive she had heard Kazan only moments before.

"_Your friends are here, Saffron! We believe in you!"_

Zephira growled as she approached Saffron again, her pale lavender eyes flashing angrily, "So, finally fighting back, are we? Good. I want you to suffer just as much as I have."

Saffron swallowed hard, conflicted emotions warring inside her heart. How could she fight this dragoness; her best friend? She was like a twin sister, and she had already lost so much. But the voices of her friends were cheering her on and she couldn't just let them down. Could she?

"_You're a strong dragoness, you can do this!"_

"Cynder…" Saffron whimpered as her voice filled the void, "If only I was as strong as you… But I can't fight Zephira. I just can't."

"_Don't let it get to you! You're stronger than that!"_

"Spyro?"

"_It's all just an illusion! It's a test! Don't believe everything you see!"_

"Roku…" her lips trembled.

"_Beat up whatever stupid ghost this dumb place has thrown at you and get back here! We're waiting!"_

"Flame," Saffron whispered, smirking despite herself, "Always impatient…"

Suddenly she was thrown off her feet by a gust of wind and hit the cobblestones hard, the air rushing from her lungs. Winded and bruised, Saffron lay limp for a moment, allowing Zephira to once more approach. But this time the yellow dragoness raised her head and met the eyes of the white dragoness, her own eyes glowing with defiance.

"You're not Zephira," she said in a hushed whisper, slowly struggling to her feet, "You can't be Zephira."

"Oh?" the white dragoness sneered, flexing her bloodstained talons.

"Zephira would never act like this!" Saffron yelled, "Don't you dare try to say you're her!"

An orb of crackling electricity flew from her lips and struck Zephira's pale blue chest, exploding upon impact. The white dragoness shrieked as she was engulfed by the explosion of yellow-white light, and Saffron shielded herself with her wings. By the time she uncovered her face, Zephira was already charging at her, white scales smoking.

Saffron jumped to the side to avoid the wind dragoness, knocking her legs out from under her with her sweeping tail. The incarnation of Zephira tumbled head over heels and landed sprawled on the cobblestones with her belly against the floor. Before she could even move, Saffron was on her back, pinning her down with all four legs. The yellow dragoness leaned down to hiss in her opponent's ear.

"How dare you look like Zephira?"

The white dragoness shrieked as voltage ripped through her body, her limbs convulsing violently with agony. Saffron jumped away from the twitching dragoness, feeling filthy at having harmed a dragon that looked so like Zephira. Her snout wrinkled in self-loathing, but she pushed the thought away. It wouldn't help her now.

"How…dare you…" the white dragoness snarled, pushing herself unsteadily upright. Her legs almost gave out beneath her, but she managed to steady herself.

"No," Saffron growled, her whole body trembling with anger, "How dare _you_!"

With identical shrieks, the two dragonesses charged each other, and wind met electricity in a violent clash of light. Saffron cried out as a blade of wing cut deep into her cheek, spraying droplets of blood through the air. Zephira yelled in pain when an arc of voltage whipped across her face, blinding one of her eyes and leaving a smoking scar across her white scales. Nursing their injuries, the dragons jumped away from each other.

"How could you?" the white dragoness sneered, "Hurting your best friend like that. I thought you cared about me? Then again…everything bad that ever happened to me was _your_ fault."

"Shut up! I won't let you steal her face any longer!" Saffron screamed, firing three orbs of electricity from her maw in quick succession. Zephira disappeared with a scream as the resulting explosions consumed her whole body. When the light faded, she was crouching, trembling on the ground.

Grinding her teeth, Saffron began to run, gaining speed as she drew ever closer to the white dragoness. Alarmed, the incarnation of Zephira took to the air, winging into the empty white sky, but Saffron followed. The yellow dragoness flapped higher, higher, until she was level with the white dragoness. Then, her eyes narrowed, she channelled electricity into her paws and raised them high. Her adversary watched in horror.

"This is for Zephira," Saffron hissed, and slammed her paws down into the chest of the wind dragoness. With a shriek, she shot towards the ground like a meteor, crashing into the cobblestones with an almighty crack, and an explosion of voltage. Saffron covered her face with a wing, wincing.

"I know I should have done more for Zephira," she whispered to the void, "But I care about her more than anyone else. It scares me to think that she might not forgive me, but I know Zephira, and she is the kindest dragoness I've ever met. I know she would never blame me for anything. I'm sure of it."

Warmth bloomed in her heart and, in a flash of light, the void disappeared. When she opened her eyes again, she was standing in front of her friends. Zannak pulled her into a hug almost instantly, and Saffron didn't try to shy away. She smiled into his shoulder, for once welcoming the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm back…" she whispered, "Sorry I took so long."

"Idiot," Zannak muttered in her ear, "Stupid, dumb idiot. I'm glad you're ok."

"Did you hear us?" Cynder asked curiously once the yellow dragoness had been released from her brother's grip.

Saffron's eyes widened and she smiled fondly, "So that was you… Yeah, I heard you."

"Thank goodness," Ember sighed, her shoulders drooping in relief, "We thought you might have needed some support."

"Thank you," Saffron said with as much gratitude as she could pack into two simple words, wiping away her tears, "If you hadn't done that…I might never have gotten out of there."

"We're all glad you're ok," Kazan said awkwardly, shuffling his feet, "You had us worried there for a bit. I mean…not that _I_ was worried or anything."

Saffron giggled softly, and smiled gratefully at her brother when he put his wing around her shoulders. Looking around the group, she could tell that most of them were severely shaken by their own experiences. Even Roku, the usually infallible earth dragon, looked more than a little unnerved, to her surprise. Spyro, especially, was still shaking.

"Guess everyone had a bit of a tough time," Saffron whispered, leaning against her brother with a sigh.

"Yeah," Spyro murmured wistfully, and then shook his head as if to clear it, "But it's over now. And that door…"

He turned towards the one door in the room they had yet to see open. It was still closed, but not for long.

"…should open."

Moments after the words left his mouth, the door opened with a welcoming creak. The dragons all exchanged triumphant grins.

"Oh yeah," Flame said, grinning, "We did it."

"Take that, you creepy temple of doom!" Zannak exclaimed, teal eyes lighting up with glee, "We beat your dumb tests!"

"About time too," Kazan smirked, and together the group stepped into the room beyond.

The first thing they noticed was the giant hourglass in the centre of the room. It was taller than a full grown dragon, and filled with a kind of fluorescent blue sand trickling slowly from the top bowl to the bottom. A blue glow resonated from the hourglass, filling the whole room with ethereal light. Those who had never seen it before, which was everyone but Spyro, uttered gasps of awe at the sight of it.

"Wow," Ember said in a hushed voice, unable to elaborate.

"That's the biggest hourglass I've ever seen," Cynder muttered, the blue light casting odd reflections in her emerald eyes.

"Welcome, young dragons," an old, kind voice interrupted, "I see you all made it here in one piece. That is good. Though, I suppose, I expected no less."

"Chronicler?" Spyro called, looking around for the voice and wondering why it sounded so different from what he remembered…and yet so familiar. No one else seemed to notice, except for Cynder, who had a look on her face that suggested she was trying to remember something.

"Yes, Spyro," the voice replied fondly, and a dragon stepped out from behind the hourglass, silvery eyes twinkling merrily, "And it has been…a long time, hasn't it?"

Spyro couldn't speak; his voice was long gone. This was not the Chronicler he remembered. But, despite the grey-blue colour of his scales and the silver of his eyes, there was no mistaking this dragon. From the shape of his face, to his horns, his wings, and even his warm eyes, though their colour had changed, there could be no mistake. Even his smile seemed like it was from a pleasant, long lost memory of a sort. And yet it was impossible, or so Spyro had thought.

Once more he found his voice, and a name that belonged to a dragon he never thought he'd see again slipped from his lips. A name that belonged to _this_ dragon.

"Ig-_Ignitus_?"

**A/N: Gasp! Cliffhanger! xD Or not, considering we all knew it was Ignitus anyway. So many scenes this chapter, so I decided it was about time I started using scene break lines...to stop confusing people. Hopefully they show up and don't get eaten by the site. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It was...tricky to write. Quite tricky.**

**As usual, super duper thanks to my reviewers. I'm running out of creative ways to thank you... Now that I'm back at uni, I don't really have the time to spare replying to every review personally, but I just want to let you know that I do read every single one and I really, really appreciate you taking your time to write them. It means a lot to me.**

**Special thanks to the anonymous reviewer who signs his reviews as Feanor the Dragon. Seriously, the amount of reviews you sent me...I'm speechless. Thank you so much for taking the time to stop and review so many chapters when you could have just kept reading. You made my week. :)**

**...So, did you like seeing Ciro again, or did I just depress you all again? *hides under rock* xD Thanks for reading everyone! See ya next time!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Yeah, I had heaps of trouble with this chapter. Sorry if it's not up to scratch. Enjoy!**

**23.**

The silence was stifling, and as taught as a drawn bowstring. The dragons behind Spyro exchanged confused and bewildered looks, and for a moment some of them thought the purple dragon had gone mad. This couldn't be the late Fire Guardian—everyone knew he had died over a year ago, in the deadly flames of the Belt of Fire. Spyro himself had delivered this news. So why, they wondered, did he think this old, blue-grey dragon was his deceased mentor?

"Yes, young dragon, it is I."

Those words broke the tense silence with an almost audible _snap_. Cynder and the others were stunned, but Spyro's eyes widened to an almost impossible size and suddenly he was running. He sprinted over the gap between himself and the Chronicler, tears blurring his vision, hardly aware anymore of the staring eyes of his friends. He wanted—_needed_—to know that this apparition before him was real; to touch the formerly red scales and feel the comfortable warmth he had once known so well. Proof, confirmation, was just a few feet away. He had to know.

Spyro struck Ignitus's chest with enough force to knock the old dragon back a step, burying his face in the grey-white scales that had once been a tarnished gold colour. Warmth spread through his own scales, and he felt the slow beating of a heart somewhere deep inside. Life. He was real, and he was _alive_.

Before Spyro knew it, hot tears were streaming uncontrollably down his face, falling on the chest scales of the Chronicler. It took a moment for him to find his voice again, but when he did the words tumbled forth like water.

"I thought…I thought you were dead! I thought I'd watched you die in the Belt of Fire! H-How? How are you here; how are you alive? Just…just… Ignitus! You're alive…you're alive…"

His voice caught and he uttered a barely audible sob into the grey-blue dragon's chest. Ignitus shifted slightly, and Spyro felt a warm, reassuring paw on his back. Raising his tear-streaked face to that of his mentor, he saw the gentle, fatherly smile that graced Ignitus's snout. The colours were strange and unfamiliar, but there was no mistaking that sparkle in his eyes. Fresh tears spilled down Spyro's cheeks as a genuine smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

"It is good to see you, Spyro, after so long," Ignitus said, eyes twinkling, "I am sorry this reunion could not happen sooner."

"But why did you never tell me you were still alive?" Spyro asked, sniffing as he wiped his streaming eyes, "It's been a year, Ignitus! Everyone…everyone thinks you're dead! But you're here…you're alive. You're alive!"

Ignitus inclined his head to the side, looking thoughtful, "In a way, yes, I am alive. And in another, no, I am not. But all will be explained soon, Spyro. After all, I would very much like to meet your friends, young dragon."

Spyro's eyes widened and he scrubbed away the last of his tears before turning around. The others were still watching curiously in the doorway, Cynder at their head, and Ignitus beckoned them in with a smile. The door closed behind them, but it left no one feeling trapped—rather, it felt safe in this room, separate from the rest of the world. The new Chronicler turned his silvery eyes first upon the black dragoness.

"Cynder, it does an old dragon good to see your face once more," he said with that same fatherly smile he had given Spyro, "You have grown into such a strong, beautiful dragoness."

"It's good to see you, too, Ignitus," Cynder said with a soft smile, "I don't think any of us were expecting this. Spyro least of all."

"Yes, forgive me for not telling you sooner, young dragons. Though I do have my reasons."

"Is anyone going to tell us what the heck is going on?" Flame grumbled suddenly, glancing from Cynder, to Spyro, and finally settling on the Chronicler. "Are you saying this old guy is the same Fire Guardian you guys said died in the war? Didn't he, you know, _die_?"

Ignitus chuckled, "Young Flame has a point. I will explain in just a moment, but first…"

"How do you know my name?" Flame interrupted sharply, looking almost alarmed. Ignitus's eyes twinkled.

"As Chronicler, it is my duty to know many things about this realm," he said proudly, and added, "Including the names of its inhabitants. While I do not know _everything_, as Spyro's friends you can be assured that already I know much about all of you."

"I can't decide whether that's creepy or not," Zannak whispered in his sister's ear, to which she just smirked. Ignitus's eyes shifted towards them with a knowing smile, and Saffron was sure he had heard Zannak's words. She smiled and tried to look innocent, but the Chronicler just winked, to her surprise.

"While I know about you, young ones, you may not know about me," Ignitus went on, "I am known formally as the Chronicler, but you may call me by my old name, Ignitus, if you wish. It is…a memory of different times."

Spyro had a feeling that, under different circumstances, he would have claimed his old name was a memory of happier times. But he knew better than anyone that such was not the case, and it caused a heavy feeling somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach. Shifting uncomfortably, the purple dragon took that moment to silently observe his old mentor, taking in everything that had changed since he had last seen him.

It was not just the colour of his scales, he realised, but the very way in which he carried himself. The old dragon stood taller, prouder than he ever had in life. It was as though some long-lost shred of confidence had been dragged from the dark, forgotten corners of his soul. The profound sadness that had once so dominated his expression was now all but gone from his kind eyes. Suddenly, Spyro felt he was looking not at the empty shell of a shattered, broken guardian, but at a wise, proud dragon who had come to terms with his own existence.

"You seem different, Ignitus," the purple dragon said hesitantly, moments later. The Chronicler's silvery gaze turned back to him and his face creased into a wizened, gentle smile.

"All things change and grow with time," he said softly, "it is the way of the world. I am no longer the dragon I once was. The old Chronicler left many things behind when he passed his duties on to me. The ancestors have taught me many things."

Silence greeted this remark, until Zannak broke it with a silent mutter that, in any louder circumstance, would not have been heard.

"You learn a lot after you die…"

"What?" Saffron asked sharply, glancing at him with raised eyebrows. Her brother immediately grinned, hiding a flustered blush.

"Nothing," he said quickly, "Just…just something someone told me once."

"Uh…huh," Saffron muttered, eying him strangely, while behind her Flame and Kazan exchanged sceptical glances.

"Sure you're, uh, feeling ok?" Kazan asked, staring pointedly at Zannak. But the gold dragon was saved having to answer by Spyro.

"But, Ignitus," the purple dragon interrupted, looking concerned. "Are you saying you have met the ancestors?"

"Everyone does, when their spirits part way with their bodies," Ignitus told him, eyes twinkling, "You see, what you saw was not a lie, Spyro. I did perish in the flames of the Belt of Fire. But my spirit was brought here by the ancestors, so that I may take on the duties of Chronicler from my predecessor. In a way, I am of neither the living realm nor the spirit realm, just like this island. I am, I suppose, in crude terms, a substantial spirit."

"So, what, you're a ghost?" Flame cut in, raising an eyebrow, "'Cause you look pretty solid to me. And didn't Spyro just, you know, touch you?"

The Chronicler turned stern eyes on the young fire dragon, "I am not a ghost, young dragon, but nor am I truly alive. It is in a kind of limbo that I exist, and will continue to do so until it is time for me to pass the title of Chronicler on to the next."

He turned then, and looked pointedly at the giant hourglass in the centre of the room. Everyone else turned to look, but only Spyro noticed something strange. Most of the sand remained in the top bowl of the hourglass, with but a thin layer in the bottom. He was sure the last time he had been here that had been entirely the opposite.

"That hourglass…" Spyro muttered, glancing at Ignitus. "What does it mean?"

The Chronicler smiled vaguely, "This hourglass measures the time left in an age, and subsequently the time left for the current Chronicler. It was reset when I became the Chronicler for the new age. And, in time, the hourglass will empty itself as this age draws to a close. Then I shall pass on my duties, and my spirit will at last join the ancestors."

Spyro's eyes turned solemn, "How long will that be?"

"Many, many years, young dragon," Ignitus replied warmly, a sad sort of twinkle in his eyes. "Hundreds…thousands… No dragon ever knows how long an age will last. We can but hope that this new age will be one of peace."

Cynder sighed wistfully and padded over to Spyro's side, shaking her head, "It doesn't seem that way lately, though, does it?"

Spyro averted his eyes to the ground, as did the others, and for a moment it was as though a damp blanket had been draped over their shoulders. Ignitus observed their sombre expressions with a sad eye, and if they had been watching him they might have noticed the inkling of guilt behind those eyes. But it went unnoticed by the young dragons.

The more Ignitus observed them, the more he noticed the worn, taught expressions on their faces, and the hollow tiredness behind their eyes. Even the way they carried their bodies, as though heavy loads were pressing upon their backs, pointed towards complete and utter exhaustion. And not just of the body.

Shaking away whatever guilt that had wormed its way into his heart, the new Chronicler cleared his throat softly to break the silence. When they raised their eyes to meet his, and he saw the weight of everything they had so valiantly been bearing reflected within, Ignitus realised he wanted nothing more than to let them rest. But time was against them, and no one knew this more than the Chronicler.

"Unfortunately, Cynder is right," he sighed, defeated. "It is due to the realm's current state of turmoil that I have called you all here. Peace is still a long way off, however much we may hope for a respite. It is a burden I do not wish to saddle young dragons with, but you must stop this war before it can escalate. Only the purple dragon stands a chance. That is why you are here, because you have proven to me that you are loyal not only to Spyro, but to your entire race. Loyal enough that you are willing to lay your lives on the line to help them."

Ignitus's silvery eyes glinted, "That is what the trials have assured me, if nothing else. I know I can trust all of you, and so can Spyro."

Spyro's head shot up, his eyes wide, "Wait… When you summoned me here, Ignitus, you asked for me alone. But were you…_expecting_ me to bring others?"

The Chronicler smiled, "I had hoped you would, Spyro. I had hoped you would prove to me that you are willing to trust everything to dragons you call your friends—and that they would prove to me they are willing to risk everything for you. After all, it is the strength of our bonds that will see us through the darkest times."

Spyro hesitated, but his eyes shifted towards his friends, most of them offering him smiles, with twinkles of assurance behind the tiredness in their eyes. With a grateful smile, he closed his eyes and nodded in agreement. These last few days had proved to him that these dragons, every one of them, were willing to follow him to the end of the world and back again. They trusted their lives to him, and in turn promised to defend his life with theirs. They were his friends, and that had never been more apparent than it was now.

"So, out with it," Flame interrupted suddenly, as though the sudden, warm sort of silence had made him uncomfortable. "What did you call us all the way out here for?"

Ignitus chuckled softly and spread a single wing, welcomingly, as though to encompass the entire room, "In due time, young dragons. Though we do not have much of it, I believe a little can be spared to allow you to rest. You have done well to come so far, bearing burdens that those of your age should never be expected to bear. But heroes need rest too."

* * *

Skelos's ears twitched uncomfortably as a cacophony of chattering clicks and shrieks assaulted them from every direction. The harsh language of the Dreadwings was painful to the sensitive ears of a panther, and this place was full of it. Their unintelligible voices filled the room to the ceiling—too high up to be seen in the darkness—clashing and mingling together like an orchestra of broken instruments. Grimacing, Skelos decided the Dreadwing nest was not a place he liked to linger in.

It was located in one of the largest turrets that the dark fortress boasted, lined around the walls with large, straw nests that continued far up into darkness towards the unseen ceiling. Everywhere he looked, Skelos saw the bat-like creatures crammed into too-small nests, their leathery wings spilling over the sides. It looked to him as though there were far too many Dreadwings for such a room—big as it was—to contain.

He was relieved when Drehgarr finally stepped forward to the centre of the room and silenced his brethren with a brain-rattling shriek. Rubbing his ears ruefully, Skelos glowered silently as he listened to the Dreadwing's following speech—but he could understand none of it, for it was spoken in the crude Dreadwing language. Impatiently, the panther waited, well aware of his restless group shifting nervously behind him. The speech was harsh and loud, and drilled into the ears of the watching cats like well-sharpened daggers.

At last, after an uncomfortable few minutes for the panthers, Drehgarr fell silent and turned back to Skelos. Ears still ringing, the panther tried to listen when Drehgarr started to speak in the common language, his words broken and unsure.

"We assist you…Lord Orroch commands. My brothers agree—we go…with you," the Dreadwing faltered every few words, an intense look crossing his face that suggested he was concentrating hard.

"You speak our language?" Skelos asked, surprised, the ringing at last fading from his ears. The rest of the Dreadwings had fallen mercifully silent.

Drehgarr frowned with concentration, "Lord Orroch…teach us. Is hard, but we…learn. Slow…ly."

"Right. How does he know it, anyway?"

But Drehgarr did not answer the question, and Skelos wondered if he had understood at all. When the Dreadwing turned away and spoke, it was as though he hadn't heard the question at all.

"Before leave…Orroch says must show you…" he began to walk across the room, towards the far wall where it was devoid of nests. Skelos followed curiously.

"Show us what?" he asked when Drehgarr stopped near the wall. The Dreadwing stepped aside, spreading a wing towards a dark tangle of something gathered at the base of the wall. Skelos stepped closer, eyes narrowing, and he saw it for what it was.

"Gift," Drehgarr purred, "For you."

Weapons littered the ground, gathered into an ungainly pile; spears, javelins, swords, daggers and bows all stacked on top of each other. But what intrigued Skelos the most was that each weapon, from smallest dagger to largest staff, was imbedded in some way with a glittering, coloured gem. Paws shaking with eagerness, Skelos reached down to grab an ash staff and hefted it experimentally, admiring the hunk of orangey-red crystal mounted on its head. A strange sort of power surged through his paws into his arms and up into his chest, like the warmth from a campfire.

"What are these?" the panther asked in a hushed, awed voice, the crystal's reflection glittering in his eyes.

"Weapons," Drehgarr grunted, "Apes left them here…now they gone. Weapons belong to you. You control…el…el…"

The Dreadwing faltered, stuttering, as though he had forgotten the word he wished to use. Scowling, he tried again, the unfamiliar word slipping between his fangs and coming out as a low hiss.

"El…ments."

Skelos looked sharply at him, "Elements?"

"Yes. Apes had once…now for you."

"You mean…anyone who wields these weapons can control the elements? Like the dragons?" Skelos asked eagerly, suddenly excited, eyes almost glowing with fervour. Drehgarr nodded wordlessly, and a wild grin spread across the panther's face. The crystal on the staff he held seemed to glow, coating the dark fur of his face with pale, red light. Eagerly, he turned and called his warriors over.

"You're really giving these to us?" Skelos asked Drehgarr sceptically, but the Dreadwing just shrugged.

"Lord Orroch decides," he said throatily. "We allies now. Together fight. Power yours now."

"But where did the apes get this sort of weapon from, anyway? I thought only dragons could control the elements."

"Dark Master…knew much secrets. He gave power. Stole gems from dragons…for apes."

"Skelos," Silt interrupted suddenly, and he turned towards the assassin. There was a serious look in his bright orange eyes. "These aren't ordinary crystals. They're Spirit Gems."

"Spirit Gems?" Skelos echoed curiously, eying the orange crystal on the staff he'd picked up. Silt nodded.

"You remember the legends. Spirit Gems are the dragons' life force. Malefor must have given them to his apes to allow them to control the elements, just like dragons. I guess, after the war, these weapons were all abandoned."

"Well, I suppose we can put them to good use," Skelos grinned, blue eyes twinkling triumphantly. "Tell everyone to choose a weapon, and bring along the extra. I'm sure Skulk and the others will appreciate this gift."

"Of course, Master Skelos."

Skelos turned back to the Dreadwing, "I'll trust you to get your brethren ready. We'll leave as soon as we can. Oh and, if you can, send someone to Lord Orroch to express my gratitude for the gift."

Drehgarr responded with a respectful half-bow, "I will do, Mah-ster Skee-loss."

"Good," a smile spread across the panther's face, "By nightfall we'll be back at the badlands. And from there, it's only a matter of time before those dragons get what's coming for them. Let's just hope Skulk manages his task."

* * *

High upon the tallest turret of Cynder's old fortress, where the young purple dragon had once fought with the Terror of the Skies, a lone Dreadwing lingered. Orroch stood in silence, his stark-white fur dampened by the falling drizzle of rain, and his harsh, yellow eyes peering through the gloom. Below him, he could see a cloud formed of the dark shapes of Dreadwings, soaring away from the fortress and into the unknown, carrying the panthers with them. He had sent more than half of the inhabitants of this fortress away into battle, but Orroch felt no emotion as he watched them leave.

"Lord Orroch?" the sound of a voice and the clicking of claws on stone alerted the Dreadwing king to the arrival of another. He turned slightly to glance at the messenger.

The smaller Dreadwing bowed respectfully as he spoke in the Dreadwing tongue, "Sir, Drehgarr ordered me to pass a message on to you from the panthers. They thank you for the gift of the elemental weapons."

Orroch grunted and turned away, his eyes shifting back to the crowd of Dreadwings. They were now merely dots upon the dark horizon, almost hidden by the haze of rain. For a moment there was silence, broken only by the mournful howling of the wind and the distant rumble of thunder. The Dreadwing messenger shifted uncomfortably, glancing from his king to the horizon that he so intently watched. Eventually, he plucked up the courage to speak.

"If…I may be so bold, Lord Orroch," he began nervously. "Are you sure it was a good idea to trust the lives of so many of our brothers with a group of creatures we have only just met? No…no disrespect intended, sir, I just…"

"Do I give permission for my subjects to question their king?" Orroch interrupted sharply, his voice dark with warning.

The smaller Dreadwing shut his mouth quickly and shrank away, "Forgive me, Lord Orroch, I have stepped out of line."

Orroch's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more to reprimand the messenger. Turning his eyes back to the horizon once more, he spoke again at length.

"It has been almost four years since our master deserted us," the Dreadwing king mused softly, "and even longer since Cynder abandoned this fortress. Four years since the apes, our old allies, were cursed, and we so narrowly escaped. Four years we have lived on the outskirts of the world, in the one place that would accept us, the one place those dragons do not dare to tread. I am tired of living in exile."

He turned sharp eyes on the other Dreadwing, "Already there are far too many of us living here than is wise. I am not satisfied with living a life so uncomfortable, where the walls of this fortress cannot contain our numbers, where even the sun is too frightened to show itself! This fortress was satisfactory once, but that was years ago. Now, we deserve more."

Orroch took a deep breath, as though to calm himself, though his voice had hardly risen to a shout, "We have been waiting for a long time for such an opportunity to arise. Malefor promised us power, but he abandoned us. We have learned that dragons can never be trusted. And knew that we stood no chance against them. Not alone. But now…this opportunity; it is ours for the taking. We will take what Malefor promised us with our own claws, and gain freedom in our own right."

"I am afraid I do not understand, my Lord," the messenger Dreadwing said nervously, "I fail to see what these cats can offer us that we do not already have. If this was what you were waiting for, why could we not strike sooner? Who knows what they will demand in return for helping us achieve our goals?"

"You have much to learn," Orroch replied grimly, flexing his blood-red wings, "In return for helping us achieve our goals, the panthers believe we are helping them achieve theirs. And even if, by chance, we do—they long only to return to the land of their ancestors, the Valley of Avalar. Let them have it. It is Warfang we desire."

"But how can they help us? They're just a bunch of cats!"

"Fresh meat," the Dreadwing king replied darkly, "Let them fight and die for our cause. The greater their number, the greater the number of _my_ army, and the greater the chance of victory."

"I…I see…" the smaller Dreadwing said uncertainly, eying his king nervously. "But…what if they turn on us?"

Orroch's eyes glinted, "You were right; they are just cats. And if the need arises, we will slaughter them along with the dragons. And those that survive—be they dragon or cat—will be banished to exile, as we once were. Warfang and the surrounding land will be under Dreadwing control, and we will no longer have to live in the harsh lands of nowhere. Let the dragons suffer how they forced us to suffer. It is the least they deserve."

The smaller Dreadwing swallowed nervously, "So…so we won't have to hide here anymore? We can live wherever we want, hunt prey wherever we choose, and take orders only from ourselves?"

"Yes," Orroch rumbled, turning away from the edge and plodding back towards the elevator that would return him to his stateroom. "Exactly as Malefor promised. I assure you, it will be done. Now, come. Let the panthers do the work. However many of our Dreadwing warriors die is a worthy sacrifice for the prizes we will receive."

"What about what that panther said," the messenger piped up, hurrying to catch up with his king as he strode onto the elevator, "about there being another purple dragon? What if…he's another Malefor? Shouldn't we do something about him?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry," a dark chuckle hissed through Orroch's fangs as the elevator lurched and began to sink down into darkness, carrying the Dreadwings with it. "All we need to do is watch and wait, and the purple dragon will come to us. Our _guest_ will see to that…"

* * *

For almost half an hour, the young dragons lounged around the giant hourglass in the Chronicler's den, talking in quiet voices or half-dozing in the strangely warm, blue light. Spyro would have been impatient for answers for why Ignitus had called him here, but even he could not deny the tiredness that had settled in his very bones. He lay contentedly beside his old mentor, satisfied for the moment just to be close to the only dragon he had ever considered a father.

Saffron dozed with her head on her brother's shoulder, while he flipped through a massive tome he'd found on a podium beside the bookshelves. Ignitus had given them permission to browse through the books of time, but most of them were too tired to even think of reading. Nevertheless, both Ember and Roku had found their books—with a little help from the Chronicler—and were curiously perusing through what had been written about them. Flame was curled up beside the pink dragoness, eyes half-lidded and only half-aware of the goings-on around him.

Across from Saffron and Zannak, Kazan lay dozily watching them, his tail flicking every now and then as Zannak flipped through the thin pages of the tome. Eventually, near the end of the book, the gold dragon finally paused and read one of the pages. Kazan watched curiously as his expression changed from curious to sad in a matter of moments. Frowning, the crimson dragon stood up and strode over.

"What's up?" he asked softly, and Saffron cracked open her eyes to glance lazily at him. Zannak didn't look up from the page.

"This is the book of the dead," he mumbled softly, resting a paw on the page. Kazan craned his head to get a good look, and saw something he wasn't expecting. A familiar name was inscribed on the page, under the parchment-toned picture of a familiar ice dragon. The fire dragon sighed and looked away.

"Ciro…" Kazan mumbled, and Saffron opened her eyes again. She, too, glanced at the page, her eyes turned sad, and she turned her face into her brother's shoulder. Silently, he draped a wing over his sister's back. Kazan sat down on her other side without another word.

Meanwhile, Cynder was perusing the ceiling-high shelves, gazing at the many books that had been stacked within, of every colour she could think of. At first she wasn't really sure what she was looking for—merely browsing for the sake of something to do. But then her paws seemed to move on their own, and she found herself wandering as though in a daze towards one of the shelves. Lazily, she raised a paw towards a grey-covered book and plucked it from the shelf.

The book fell open as she laid it at her paws, and she found herself staring at a page of old parchment, upon which a simple picture lay. It was a picture of an egg, but of what colour she couldn't tell—it was formed only of sepia tones. Curiously, Cynder flipped a few pages, eying the ancient script that she could not read and the colourless pictures on almost every page. At length, she stopped turning the pages and gazed at the picture that met her eyes. A jolt of shock ran through her, and she took an involuntary step back.

Alta stared at her from the page, his eyes—once icy blue—no less intense in parchment tones. She would recognise him instantly. Only then did Cynder realise the grey cover of the book was the exact shade that his scales had been. A shudder ran through her body and she snapped the book shut, suddenly feeling short of breath. Gazing at the plain cover, she wondered why, out of all the thousands of books here, she would be drawn to this one.

At her shoulder, the deer-skin pouch quivered violently and fell still. Cynder glanced warily at it, but it did not move again. Fervently, she hoped she had imagined it. But something told her otherwise. Nervously, her eyes returned to the grey book.

"What have you found?"

Spyro's sudden voice startled Cynder so much that she almost jumped. Instead, managing to catch herself before she did so, the black dragoness turned to give him a quick smile. It was a strained smile, she could feel it, and she was sure Spyro wouldn't believe it.

"Just…just…" Cynder hesitated, gazing from the face of the purple dragon to the book at her paws. "…It's his book."

"Whose?" Spyro asked, confused, following her gaze to the pale grey book. Cynder didn't answer, to his confusion, but a moment later it hit him—coldness swept over his limbs and a lump formed in his throat. "…Oh."

Sighing, the black dragoness shook her head, "I don't know how I found it. I just…pulled it out. I'm sorry, Spyro. I know he's the last dragon you want to be reminded of."

"It's ok," Spyro replied in a strained voice, though his eyes said otherwise. "Even…even if the memories hurt…he deserves to be remembered. It's the least I could do…for not being able to save him."

"That wasn't your fault, Spyro," Cynder murmured gently, for what felt like the hundredth time—and could well have been. The purple dragon didn't respond.

"You should listen to your friends, Spyro. They have wisdom to share." The young dragons looked up to find Ignitus standing behind them, a sad twinkle in his silvery eyes. Spyro looked away, as though he was ashamed to face his old mentor.

"You never met him, Ignitus…" the purple dragon mumbled, "But I failed to save him."

"It is true that I never crossed paths with young Alta," Ignitus replied gently, and Spyro flinched at the use of the name. "But as Chronicler, I know him as well as I have known you, young dragons. And, as Chronicler, I know that his death was no fault of yours, Spyro."

Cynder watched the purple dragon anxiously as his shoulders shook, and knew he would argue no matter what. There was nothing she had been able to do in the year that had followed Alta's death to convince Spyro it had not been his fault. But, if anyone could convince him otherwise, it was his old mentor.

"How can you say that?" Spyro cried out suddenly, and everyone in the room jumped. "I was _there_! I could have stopped him! I could have _saved_ him! But I didn't… I just froze… I let him die…"

"He had nothing left," the purple dragon choked out, shuddering, "and I was too stupid to help him; to realise that. If only I'd done something… if only I'd stopped him. He wouldn't have died…"

Ignitus observed the young dragon for a moment, his eyes full of a gentle sadness, until at length he spoke. "Spyro, there is something in this book that I wish you to see. I believe it is important."

He gestured towards Alta's book, still lying at Cynder's feet. "Will you allow me to show you?"

It took a moment for Spyro to compose himself, but eventually he nodded without looking at the Chronicler, his eyes on the floor. Everyone else had stopped what they were doing and were listening intently, waiting for what was about to happen. Though only Flame and Ember had met Alta personally, the others had heard the story many times of what had occurred in the caverns that had once been their home.

"Thank you, Spyro," Ignitus said gently, and summoned the book with a wave of his paw—to the amazement of the other young dragons. Cynder watched curiously as it rose from the floor and moved to float unaided in front of Ignitus's chest. It opened seemingly of its own accord, to one of the very first pages.

Glancing at each other, the group of young dragons crowded around the Chronicler, like hatchlings waiting to be told a bedtime story. But this was a story they knew did not have a happy ending. Ignitus eyed them all carefully before he began, as though to assure himself they were ready to hear this tale. His gaze lingered on Spyro, who still would not look up to meet his eyes. Then, with a nod, the Chronicler gazed upon the pages of the book.

"Though only some of you knew Alta, I believe it befitting that all of you should hear this tale—if only to understand him better, and to understand why it was that he had to die in such a…terrible way. To understand, we must begin where all lives begin…at the very start."

Taking a deep breath, the Chronicler began, "Alta's egg was born to a pair of oracle dragons, who lived and thrived among a clan of nomad seers. When he hatched—well, some could say he was doomed from the very start—an old oracle dragon delivered a simple prophecy that concerned him. It was not a clear vision; just a whisper on the wind that suggested only harsh times awaited Alta in his future. Many dragons of the clan refused to believe such a flimsy, half-formed prophecy, though it was spoken by one of the most respected seers they knew."

At this point, Ignitus waved a paw and the book turned so that the pages faced his audience. Upon on the pages, among lines of ancient writing, was a picture of a withered dragon and an elegant dragoness with a tiny hatchling at her feet. Her face was pinched, defiant, as though she had been told something she simply refused to believe. With another flick of his paw, Ignitus turned the book back to face him, and continued.

"It goes without saying that Alta was never told of that prophecy. He was an innocent child, growing up in a carefree world among those of his own kind. The clan continued to shift home every few weeks, avoiding the Dark Master's army and searching for any dragons to whom they could sell their merchandise—unique artefacts that their tribe was known for. Alta's parents were busy dragons, and as such he was raised mostly by his brother, Lumis, who was two years his elder. There was no one the young oracle dragon was closer to."

Another glance at the book, and the group saw a second picture—this one of two hatchlings, one slightly larger than the other, laughter written across their faces. Cynder's eyes lingered on the larger dragon, whom she was sure was Lumis. He looked just like his younger brother, from the tailblade, to the horns, and the shape of his face.

"It was Lumis whom Alta relied on above all others, even his parents. But he was loved and safe in the small clan, at least for a time. No matter how far they travelled, the clan stayed together. They were a family—a very large family, but a family nonetheless. And there was nowhere safer. Unfortunately, his carefree days could not last…"

"Alta was only five years old when he had his first vision. Strangely enough, it saved his older brother from an untimely death. But his visions would only get worse from then on. When he was but seven years old, a vision came to him that would destroy his life and that of everyone he loved. A vision of the end of the world."

Ember shivered involuntarily, and Flame hugged her close with a wing. After a moment, the Chronicler continued.

"What happened afterwards is…difficult to understand. That vision…_unhinged_ the young dragon's mind. He became unstable, violent, unpredictable…prone to tantrums of violent temper, and fits of uncontrollable sobbing. The other dragons came to fear his unstable mind, and he was kept closed off from the rest of the clan by his worried parents. No matter what they did, they could not help their son. He had been…driven _mad_ by his vision. It was not uncommon for oracle dragons, but at such a young age…"

Ignitus trailed off sadly, and presented the young dragons with another picture. Spyro took one look at it and looked away immediately, his eyes burning. A young Alta lay screaming on the floor of a cave, tears streaming down his cheeks, a mix of fear and violent anger etched across his face. An older dragoness, his mother, stood at the mouth of the cave, watching her son helplessly.

"Only Lumis tried to comfort him," the Chronicler continued gravely. "And it was only around him that Alta showed any sign of his remaining sanity. But the fits of madness did not stop—nightmares consumed him, both sleeping and awake. He thought of nothing but the impending doom that he had foreseen. It consumed his mind…his every thought."

"Eventually, the nomad clan came upon a natural cavern under the western mountains, where they stayed for a time. But it was a grave mistake. For they were living in the middle of ape territory, and the apes of Malefor's army did not take kindly to dragons…or trespassers. They were slaughtered in the night, smoked out of their caves like rabbits from a warren… The apes were waiting for them; they didn't stand a chance."

"Lumis told his brother to hide, and so he did. Alta watched from the bushes—he saw his parents die and watched as his whole clan—his family—was overwhelmed by the Dark Master's forces. In the chaos he lost sight of his brother, and in fear he hid and waited for the apes to find him. But they did not."

"When Alta left his hiding place, he found the bodies of his clan had been dragged away by the apes—why, he did not know. I believe it was to use their claws and horns to craft their weapons, as was custom for those barbaric apes. And dragon scales were highly prized among them."

Spyro shuddered, drawing his wings protectively around him, but he did not interrupt.

"As he strode through the bloody battlefield, Alta came across something he recognised—the severed tailblade of a dragon. A tailblade that looked just like his. He knew that it had belonged to Lumis. His brother was dead. Alta was alone. For a time he remained in a daze, continuing to live in the cavern his clan had once occupied, unaware of anything around him. But, slowly, his sanity returned. For Alta knew now… His tribe was but the first of many to be slaughtered by the Dark Master, just as his prophecy had foretold. It would only be a matter of time before he was with them again."

"With the assurance that everything that had happened was meant to happen, Alta regained a hold on his madness and waited patiently for death to claim him and every other dragon in the world. He took to painting on the walls to occupy his mind and, when he felt brave enough to explore the outside world, learned the language of a native, semi-hostile species that feared that apes as much as he."

Flame stared at the picture that Ignitus showed them next, his eyes wide. "But those are grublins! Weren't they, you know, _part_ of Malefor's army?"

But Ignitus shook his head, "Not at first. It wasn't until after he was reborn that Malefor cursed his apes and formed a new army of grublins. In the years before, the grublins feared the apes as much as any dragon. They were territorial and untrusting, but Alta was merely a lone dragon, and from him the grublins felt they had nothing to fear. He was, to them, an unlikely ally in a time when apes ruled all. They had a common foe, and that was enough."

"The years passed. Alta became secluded in his cavern, where he was alone but for the occasional group of grublins taking shelter from the apes. He waited patiently for his prophecy to be fulfilled, longing for his foretold death so that he may be returned to his brother's side. It may well have happened…but then you came."

Ignitus's eyes turned to Spyro, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Looking up, the purple dragon saw with a jolt of shock the picture that was on the next page. It was a picture of him, as he had been over four years ago—an innocent, chubby young dragon who had just learned he was not a dragonfly after all.

"Why…why am I in his book?" Spyro asked in a hushed voice, stomach churning with guilt. Had everything that had happened to Alta been his fault?

"Because you are the dragon who stopped Alta's prophecy from coming true," Ignitus told him gently. "You are the one who stopped the Dark Master from destroying everything. You changed the course of history and altered the future, as only a purple dragon can do."

"Alta did not notice when the grublins left to join the Dark Master's army. But he noticed when they returned, bringing news of defeat at Warfang, and Malefor's fall. It was from them that Alta learned the Dark Master had failed, and that death was not coming on swift wings to carry him back to his clan and his ancestors. It was then that he realised his prophecy had not come true."

"The knowledge of this almost drove him mad once more, until he learned from the grublins who it was that had stopped Malefor. Another purple dragon. You."

"Alta became convinced that the only thing stopping his prophecy from being fulfilled was you, Spyro. He yearned to fulfil it, but he was sure that, as long as you were alive, he would not be able to do so. So in solitude he tried to plan, to figure out a way of ridding the world of the purple dragon, assured by his unstable sanity that once you were gone the prophecy would fulfil itself. How? He didn't know, he didn't care. He refused to see the impossibilities.

"All he needed was an opportunity. He had the grublins, eager for revenge on the dragon that had robbed them of the spoils the Dark Master had offered, but he needed something more. He ordered the grublins to capture any dragons they found and imprison them, in the vague hope that the purple dragon would come looking for them. But that was a foolish thought. Of the outside world he knew nothing, and when the dragons were caught he knew not what to do with them. He never bothered to meet his prisoners face to face, ordering the grublins to keep them captured. But the purple dragon did not come."

"That was when an unsuspecting fire dragon stumbled into his cavern…" The Chronicler turned silvery eyes on Flame, who shifted his paws uncomfortably and looked away. Smiling sadly, the old dragon lowered the book and gazed at his audience.

"I believe you know the rest," he said, and was answered by solemn nods. After a moment of silence, Spyro looked up.

"I don't understand…what was the reason for telling us this?" He insisted, looking pained.

"So that you may understand why he died, and know that it was destined to occur from the moment he was born. There was nothing you could have done, Spyro. His death was not your fault."

Spyro hesitated, an internal battle reflected in his eyes. "But…you say that purple dragons can shape destiny. If that's the case, why couldn't I change _Alta's_ destiny? I don't…I don't believe in destiny! I don't want to believe in it! He was the last of his tribe and I just let him die…"

Ignitus sighed softly, "There are some things that are not meant to be changed. In time, you will understand, young dragon. But there is one more thing I must show you. Alta's story has ended…but the story of the oracle clan has not."

With gentle wave of his paw, he flipped the book to the very last page, and turned it to face his audience. They gazed upon the picture for a moment, unsure of what they were seeing, until Cynder uttered a strangled gasp. It was an image of Alta's lifeless body, lying amongst the shadows of the cavern he had died in, and another dragon was standing over him. This dragon was identical to him in every visible way, but for the scars that crisscrossed his scales and the bladeless tip of his tail. There was sadness in his eyes.

"Alta was not the last of his clan," Ignitus told them grimly, "but his brother now is."

"Alta's brother is alive?" Cynder asked in a hushed voice, and flinched when she thought she felt the Poison Claws quiver inside their pouch. No one else seemed to notice.

"That's…that's impossible," Spyro stammered, eyes widening. "Alta told me himself that his brother had died in the attack that killed his parents! How can that be?"

Ignitus shook his head, "Alta never saw his brother die. All he had to go on was the severed tailblade the apes left behind. Naturally, he assumed Lumis had been killed along with the rest of his clan. But he was not…"

"Then what happened to him?" Spyro asked, his voice nearing a desperate shout. "How did he survive? Where is he now?"

The Chronicler closed the book with a snap, "That, young dragon, is something you must discover for yourself. If you truly feel guilty about Alta's death, then perhaps you can redeem yourself in your own eyes by finding his brother…before the last living link to the oracle tribe is lost forever."

Those ominous words hung like cloying smoke in the air, and for a moment no one knew how to respond. Leaving the young dragons to mull over those words, Ignitus returned the book to its shelf and turned instead to another. Spyro stared blankly into the glowing depths of the hourglass, his eyes not really seeing what was before them, covered with a haze of thought. Cynder watched him anxiously; the mark of guilt was all too apparent on his face. But the Poison Claws inside her satchel lingered insistently at the back of her mind.

"I guess that's something else to add to the list of things to do," Zannak said suddenly, breaking the silence, "Find a missing oracle dragon. I'm sure it'll be _easy_…"

The joking sarcasm was plainly evident in his voice and, though Saffron turned to glare at him, Spyro felt strangely relieved by it. At least he wasn't the only one who thought it sounded nigh on impossible. Alta's brother could be anywhere by now, if he was even still alive. And there were more pressing matters to attend to than finding a single dragon that they had never met before. But the moment Spyro opened his mouth to say this to Ignitus, it seemed the Chronicler read his thoughts.

"I believe I have kept you waiting long enough," the old dragon sighed, turned back to them with a large, silvery book floating by his head. "It's time I told you why it was that I called you here."

"_Finally_," Flame groaned, and winced when Ember slapped his hind leg with her tail reproachfully.

Spyro looked suddenly hopeful, pushing Alta and his brother from his mind for the moment. "Do you have some information for us? About the panthers? How we can stop them? A weakness? Their leader?"

"Patience, young dragon," Ignitus responded solemnly, his eyes serious. "Remember, it is the Chronicler's duty to record the lives of dragons. Not apes; not grublins; and not panthers. There is little I can tell you about them that you do not already know."

Disbelief flashed briefly across Spyro's face, followed by horror, until it finally settled into an utterly crestfallen expression. If even the Chronicler knew nothing, their cause seemed hopeless. Before Spyro could voice his worries, Ignitus continued quickly.

"However, there are some things I can tell you… But that is not why I brought you here. I brought you here so that you may be warned. Already, this battle is being blown out of proportion…expanding beyond what it should have been. It is becoming _war_,and for the dragon race—and the cheetahs—the consequences could be disastrous."

Ignitus's eyes were stern but worried as he continued, "Hardly a year has passed since the war with the Dark Master ended, and the consequences of that war were catastrophic—but this you already know. The dragon race has not yet fully recovered; that could take many, many years, young dragons. Dragonkind cannot face another war so brutal. If they do, the consequences could be irreversible. You must _stop_ this war, Spyro, before it can truly begin."

* * *

It was dusk on the grassy plains to the Northwest of Warfang, where the panthers had retreated to after their first defeat at the dragon city. Skulk paced around his group of warriors, watching with displeasure as they struggled to contain the aggravated Death Hounds. It hadn't been a pleasant trek back from the southern shore, herding the less-than-cooperative hounds through bushland and open plains. Already, several had managed to break loose and escape, to Skulk's great annoyance.

Overall, they had managed to return not quite forty of the hounds, out of the over-fifty they had captured at the grove. Skulk had a nasty feeling that, when Skelos returned, he would be very much shown up. The competitive part of him hoped that wasn't the case—the logical part hoped he brought as many Dreadwings back as possible. But, as far as he knew, they could be waiting for days before there was even any sign of his twin brother and the other panthers.

Shaking his head, Skulk turned away from Erebos and Steel—the two assassins busy trying to pin down a hound that had broken free from its restraining rope—and stared impatiently at the horizon. He didn't expect to see anything, and for a moment he didn't. Behind him, the Death Hound growled and Erebos uttered a shout of triumph. Then Skulk's eyes widened and he peered intently at the dark sky.

"What in the name of…?" he growled under his breath, brow furrowing. A dark shape, like an approaching storm front, had covered the sky just above the horizon and was rapidly growing closer. Of the dark mass he could make out little, only that it was large and it was moving at an impressive speed.

"D'ya see that, sir?" A crunching of dry grass, and a familiar plump panther appeared at his leader's side.

"Yes, Burdock," Skulk grunted impatiently, not taking his eyes off the dark mass in the sky. "I can see it. What I'm wondering is _what_ is it?"

Burdock rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully, following Skulk's gaze, "Hard t' say, sir. Looks like a storm front, t' me."

"Clouds don't move that fast," Skulk replied darkly, eyes glinting. The closer it came, the bigger the mass seemed to be, and it was putting him on edge.

"Then I'm afraid I ain't got a clue, sir."

"Wonderful," the panther leader growled sarcastically through gritted teeth. "If you've got anything more useful to say, say it now or leave me be."

"Sorry, sir," Burdock mumbled sheepishly, and stepped quietly away—or tried to, stumbling over his paws clumsily as he backed into waist-high grass. When he looked up again, the dark mass was close enough for him to make out that it was formed of many smaller shapes. He could make out the up and down strokes of heavy wings.

"Uh…sir?"

"Didn't I say to leave me be?" Skulk growled.

Burdock gulped, "No disrespect intended, sir, jus' wonderin' if yer can see what I'm seein'. That's a whole lot o' winged beasties, that is—t'aint a cloud."

"Winged…?" Skulk echoed, shielding his eyes with a paw and staring hard at the approaching mass. A moment later, a grim smile crossed his face. "Dreadwings."

Burdock suddenly looked very uneasy, "Should'a…Should we be worried, sir?"

But Skulk's keen eyes picked out what Burdock's had not, and his grim smile widened ever so slightly. "No. I knew he'd show me up."

"Sir?" Burdock asked uncertainly, but received so answer. Instead, he turned his eyes back to the approaching mass and tried to ignore the tremors of unease inside.

It wasn't long before the group of flying creatures was close enough for the panthers to see them clearly, and Burdock gave a start when one broke off from the pack and dived hard towards them. He took a step back and covered his face as the creature hit the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust and yellowed grass that lingered in the dry, dusk air. Uncovering his eyes, Burdock beheld the sight of Skelos slipping off the back of a large, beady-eyed Dreadwing, and landing nimbly in front of his twin brother. Skulk smirked wryly.

"Returning with a flourish, I see, brother," he growled reluctantly, folding his paws over his chest. Skelos grinned and gestured with a paw to the mass of Dreadwings as they circled above and descended to land in the grass.

"I returned with more than that, Skulk."

Skulk's eyes glinted, the faintest hint of annoyance lingering in their dark depths, "So I can see. I must say, I didn't expect so many. Or for you to be back so soon…"

Laughing, Skelos slung an arm around his twin's shoulders, "Unexpected, but not unwelcome, right? I know you're competitive, Skulk, but you gotta admit…I showed you up this time."

Skulk shrugged his arm off irritably, "This time…which also happens to be the _only_ time—and the last."

"Sure, sure." Skelos grinned, polishing his chest fur with the knuckles of his fist—an unabashed, pleased sort of gesture. Skulk resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead turned his attention to the Dreadwing that had carried his twin brother here. It was a grotesque sort of beast, not unlike the Death Hounds, but its silvery-grey feathers were sleek and well-groomed. A pair of beady-black eyes peered into his own with an intelligence he didn't expect.

"So, what's the story?" Skulk grunted reluctantly. "How did you get so many?"

"They came on their own," Skelos admitted with a bit of a smirk. "We made a deal and they agreed."

"A deal? You make it sound like these things can think for themselves." The scorn in Skulk's voice was unmistakable. The eyes of the Dreadwing flashed furiously and it opened its mouth to speak—but Skelos beat him to it.

"They can," he said simply, twirling his new staff in one hand. "In fact, they're just about as intelligent as you or I. Some of them even speak our language. Well, sort of. Right, Drehgarr?"

The Dreadwing uttered a deep purring sound by way of gratitude and, to Skulk's amazement, spoke. "We speak dragonspeak. Lord Orroch teach us well."

"Dragonspeak?" Skulk echoed, wrinkling his nose in confusion. Skelos shrugged.

"It's what they call the language. Apparently, dragons were the first to speak it. Other races learnt it from them. Nowadays it's just the common language. But Dreadwings have their own. Only their king can speak ours fluently."

"King?" Skulk rubbed his temples, irritated by the amount of questions he had. He wasn't used to his twin knowing more about something than he did. It was, he thought, not the most pleasant of feelings.

Skelos waved a paw, "I'll tell you in detail later. All you need to know is that we got to Concurrent Skies, had a bit of a chat with the leader of the Dreadwings, and made a deal. 'Course, the king didn't come himself. He's got a fortress to rule over. And these are only about half of the Dreadwings that live there."

Skulk's eyes widened in half-hidden amazement, and he turned to take in the sight of the hundreds of Dreadwings that covered the grasslands. In fact, there were almost as many as there were panthers, which surprised him.

"We stopped back home at the Badlands on the way back from Concurrent Skies," Skelos said, stepping to his twin's side, "I gathered as many able warriors as I could. Now, with the Dreadwings, we should at least match the dragons in number. How did you fare?"

Skulk snorted, "Dismally. We caught about fifty of those damn hounds. It was all we could managed to load onto the boats and return to the mainland. Several of them escaped on the way here. I'd say there's not even forty of them left. And already they're proving troublesome."

Skelos watched the closest panther struggling with the angry hounds for a moment, before shrugging and looking away. "No matter, I suppose. They will learn fast to follow our orders, or die. And I'm sure there are plenty more where they came from. You did well to bring this many."

"Don't patronise me," Skulk growled, eyes flashing a challenge. "If I'd had more panthers and more boats, I could have done more. But now that we have wings…"

He trailed off, but Skelos grinned and twirled his staff again. "That's not all I brought back…"

"Oh?" Skulk glanced at his twin, and finally took note of the new staff he was bearing. He eyed the chunk of orange-red crystal mounted upon it with interest, and raised an eyebrow at Skelos's grinning face. "A new staff… Do explain."

His voice was almost icy, as though he thought Skelos had betrayed him by finding himself a new weapon without discussing it first with his twin. But Skelos just shrugged off the icy look in his eyes and explained.

"It's not just any old staff," he said, an undertone of excitement in his voice. "It's old ape weaponry. We brought back a lot more, too. It was a gift from the Dreadwing king, to help up fight the dragons."

Skulk didn't seem impressed, "I fail to see how this new staff of yours is any better than your old one. Unless you want to draw attention to yourself with that ridiculous hunk of crystal."

"Spirit Gem," Skelos corrected, unfazed by Skulk's annoyance. "The apes once used them to artificially control the elements, just like the dragons. These weapons were left behind at the old fortress."

Skulk glanced from the chunk of fiery-coloured crystal to his twin's eager expression, and uttered a soft noise of disbelief. "If you want to believe such stupidity, go ahead. As if any weapon could do that."

"Stupidity?" Skelos looked almost offended. Eyes narrowing, his paw tightened around the staff and he spun on the spot, slashing his weapon through the still air. Embers sparked across the gem's surface, and then flames arched from within, cutting through the air in a crescent-shaped slash. The embers fell to the grass, and Skelos stamped on them before they could catch alight once more. He turned, smirking, to Skulk.

"Still believe it's stupidity?"

The panther was visibly stunned, but moments later he rearranged his expression and hid it quite well. "Intriguing. You say the apes once used this sort of weaponry?"

"The Dark Master taught them how to harness the elements using Spirit Gems. Or, at least, that's what the Dreadwings say. And I see no reason not to believe them. They _were_ in the Dark Army once, after all."

Skulk only grunted in reply and, without warning, reached out and snatched the staff from his brother's grip. Skelos didn't react fast enough, but still tried to snatch it back when he felt his weapon torn from his paws.

"H-Hey! Give that back!" he yelped indignantly, sounding more like a jealous cub than the intelligent leader he was. But Skulk backed out of range of his snatching paws, smirking as he eyed the crystal on the end of the staff curiously. His eyes glinted appreciatively, orangey-red light reflected within. Scowling, Skelos hid his pout and folded his arms impatiently.

"I don't suppose you brought one of these back for me?" Skulk asked, almost teasingly. But Skelos caught the warning note in his voice that told him his twin would not be pleased if the answer were 'no'.

"We brought back heaps," Skelos snapped, gesturing vaguely with one paw somewhere over Skulk's shoulder. "Take your pick."

Skulk glanced over his shoulder and Skelos took advantage of his momentary distraction to snatch the staff back. But Skulk hardly reacted, only shooting a half-hearted glare at his brother before striding confidently over to Silt and Agra. The two assassins had been charged with taking care of the rest of the weapons during the flight from Concurrent Skies. They had divided them into two bundles and wrapped them in old, faded, red wall-hangings that had once garnished the walls of the dark fortress.

Under Skulk's orders, they retrieved the bundled-up weapons from the backs of the Dreadwings that had carried them, and spread them out over the grass. Skulk's dark eyes lit up with malicious appreciation as a multitude of colours met his eager gaze. Spirit Gems had never looked so appealing, he thought. The assassins hung back as their leader sifted through the old weapons. Skelos approached cautiously, curious as to what his twin would choose. Moments later, Skulk straightened up.

In his paw was a long, thin sword, longer than his old rapiers, a shimmering yellow-gold stone imbedded at its pommel. With a wicked grin, the panther sliced the air with his new blade. Arcs of electricity curled and hissed around the blade, leaping away to disappear into the crisp air. Skulk's fur almost stood on end as he watched the voltage flicker and dissolve back into the old steel of his blade.

"It could use a polish and a good sharpen," he said, half to himself and half to his brother lingering behind him. "But I think this will do well. That is if…"

Trailing off, Skulk knelt down again and started pushing weapons out of his way, as though looking for something. Skelos watched unspeaking, and moments later his twin straightened up again. There was another blade in his paw, identical to the first in every way. A wicked, satisfied smile graced the panther's face, and he held the blades out before him, as though admiring their sheen.

Then, in a single, graceful motion, he stepped forward and cleaved through the air. Electricity curled around him, causing his fur to stand on end, arcing from the cold steel of the blades. It crackled with ferocious intensity, and Skelos took a step back, eyes wide. But Skulk's own eyes were alight with wild vehemence, and they blazed with almost as much intensity as the voltage itself. Grinning, the panther lowered his twin blades, crossing them in front of his chest as the electricity dissipated.

"Yes," he said with icy satisfaction, "this will do nicely."

"You don't even know how to use them," Skelos muttered under his breath, but his twin heard well enough. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"No, but I'm a quick learner."

"Famous last words."

Skulk waved him away with a scoff and glanced back at the remaining pile of weapons. An idea sparked in his mind, and he turned back to the two watching assassins. Both Silt and Agra had remained largely emotionless during their leader's display, but now they half-bowed respectfully as he addressed them.

"Gather the rest of the Elite Guard here," Skulk ordered. "They should have first choice. The rest will be divided among our best warriors."

As the two assassins moved off to do as they were bidden, the twins exchanged glances.

"Do you think it will be enough?" Skelos asked hesitantly. Skulk knew what he was referring to.

"Who knows? But I do know one thing," he smiled grimly. "The dragons won't be expecting any of this. We'll catch them all by surprise, and they won't even know what hit them."

* * *

A wind dragon stood alone at the top of a shallow ledge, overlooking the dragonfly village below. The musky scent of moist swamp air was carried to him on the breeze, and he found himself unsure whether to breathe deep in satisfaction or winkle his nose in disgust. It was not the most pleasant of scents, but one that was strangely homely. Closing his eyes, he breathed the swampy air and exhaled a feathery sigh.

"Why are you still here?"

Nadi opened his eyes in surprise and glanced towards the intruder of his thoughts. Sparx hovered nearby, his arms folded and his eyes both accusing and curious. The wind dragon arched an eyebrow at the question.

"I mean, weren't you going to go to the big dragon city or something?" the dragonfly continued, gesturing skywards with a hand as though to illustrate his point.

"I was," the wind dragon admitted slowly, frowning. "But…well, I like it here. I feel kind of…accepted."

Sparx raised an eyebrow sceptically, "Uh-huh."

"And besides," Nadi shifted uncomfortably, glancing back the lazy goings-on down in the dragonfly village. "I don't know if I've got the guts to go to Warfang on my own. I mean, it's the biggest dragon city in the realms! …What if they don't accept me?"

"Hey, you're a _dragon_," Sparx insisted unhelpfully. "What's not to accept? Besides, you can't stay here forever. This is a _dragonfly_ village."

"Sparx!" a voice interrupted reproachfully, and the yellow dragonfly winced, turning around slowly to find his parents hovering behind him. Nina had her hands on her hips, eyes blazing with a kind of disapproving flare that only a mother could wield.

"He can stay for as long as he wants," she told her son matter-of-factly, then smiled kindly at the wind dragon. "You helped get rid of those horrible monsters, and we can't thank you enough. You are more than welcome here, for however long you need to stay. Regardless of what my son says."

"Mom! I'm just saying it like it is!" Sparx pouted, and turned his glare away from his parents. "Jeez. Why doesn't anyone ever take my side?"

Ignoring the irate yellow dragonfly, Nadi bowed his head respectfully to Nina, "Thank you. I'll try not to impose on you much longer, though. When the purple dragon and his friends—"

"_Spyro_," Sparx interrupted irritably. "How many times do I have to say it? He has a name, you know!"

"Right, sorry," Nadi shook his head sheepishly. "When Spyro and his friends get back, I'll go with them to Warfang. I have a feeling I'd be more welcomed if I arrived among others…"

"Admit it. You're just scared to go alone."

The wind dragon gazed at Sparx with a level expression, "Didn't I already admit that?"

Sparx looked away, polishing his knuckles on his chest nonchalantly, "Whatever. Well, I hope Spyro gets back soon. He's already been gone way too long… I thought he'd be back by now."

The yellow dragonfly seemed to droop as he spoke, and his mother placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Sparx glanced uncertainly at her, and the worry was clearly evident on his face.

"I'm sure he's fine, Sparx," Nina said softly, a wavering sort of conviction behind her words. "He'll be back when he's ready."

"Yeah, I know," Sparx brushed her hand away gently, as though soundlessly telling her he needed no reassurance. "Just…I didn't expect him to be gone so long. It's been almost a week. I've never been apart from him this long. Except…"

He trailed off, his thoughts in the not-so-distant past, of a time when he had been forced to stay behind. But the dragonfly shook those thoughts away remarkably quickly, and plastered a defiant grin on his face.

"Ah, what the hell," he said, folding his arms decisively. "When he gets back, I'm not letting him out of my sight again! A brother's gotta take care of his little bro."

"_Little_ bro?" Nadi asked under his breath, but Sparx pretended not to hear him.

Suddenly, the tinkling sound of laughter echoed from behind a clump of low-growing mushrooms, and the group looked sharply towards the noise. Three female dragonflies were peering around the mushrooms, blatantly visible despite their feeble efforts to hide. Their eyes were all trained on Sparx and they were giggling gleefully to each other, hiding their smiles behind their tiny hands. Nadi stared.

"Who are they?" he muttered, and Sparx coughed sheepishly.

"Oh, don't mind them," he said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "Just my adoring fans."

"You have _fans_?" Nadi asked incredulously, and the yellow dragonfly looked indignant.

"'Course I do! I'm a hero, remember?" Behind him, the girls giggled ahead and Nadi could hear them whispering—but what they were saying, he couldn't tell. Sparx's father looked disapproving.

"What sort of tall tales have you been feeding these girls?" he asked his son sternly, and Sparx managed to look offended.

"Tall tales?" he gasped, "I'll have you know I speak only the truth!"

"If the truth is code for 'blatant lies'," Nadi quipped, and Sparx turned to glare at him.  
"How would you know? You weren't there!"

"No," the wind dragon smirked, "But I heard it all from your parents—who heard it all from the purple dragon, I might add."

"Spyro," Sparx corrected automatically, and then scowled. "Now, Spyro might have been there the whole time…but he just doesn't know the art of great storytelling! Now me; I know how to say it like it was. If there's one thing Spyro forgets, it's how much I did for him! He wouldn't have even left the swamp without me!"

The dragonfly girls giggled again, and this time Nadi thought he heard them whisper something that sounded like, "…so brave, standing up to a dragon!"

The wind dragon groaned, "You know, I hope the purple dragon gets back soon, or I might be driven mad by dragonflies before I even get to Warfang."

"Hey, no one said you had to stay."

Nadi glared at Sparx as the dragonfly hovered over to confront the giggling trio. Two of them, bearing colours of red and green respectfully, flew away laughing, but the third did not follow. She was a dusky blue colour, much lighter than the strong azure shade Flash bore, and when Sparx flew over she just smiled shyly. The wind dragon watched as Sparx spoke to her, gesturing wildly with his hands as though he was telling an epic tale that needed more than words to express it.

"Don't mind him," Nina said softly in Nadi's ear. "He's just a little on edge because he's worried about his brother. I'm sure he doesn't mind having you here."

"I know," Nadi smiled at the motherly dragonfly, "and I don't mind. I know what it's like to lose a sibling…

He trailed off and stared out over the dragonfly village, so tiny he could have destroyed it with a simple gust of wind. But it felt so peaceful, so serene. As he gazed upon the dragonflies, he found himself thinking how strange it was to feel so at home amongst creatures so different than he was. It was a strangely bittersweet feeling, but he resolved to hold onto it for as long as he could.

* * *

"But how are we supposed to _stop_ a war?" Spyro asked desperately, pacing in front of his former mentor with anguish in his eyes. "I thought you called me here to give me advice on how to fight this war, not stop it. And now you're telling me _not_ to fight? I don't know what you want me to do!"

"Spyro, calm yourself," Ignitus said sternly, as gently as he could. "Allow me to continue. This war began a thousand years ago, when the panthers were banished from Avalar. This much you already know. All the panthers want is to return to Avalar, to regain what their ancestors lost. And now, because the dragons have intervened, a battle that could have been short and relatively painless has become far more dangerous."

Spyro's eyes flashed angrily, "So, what? Are you saying we should have just stood by and let the panthers overrun the valley? The cheetahs live there! They would all have been slaughtered if we hadn't intervened! They're our allies! We couldn't leave them to die! They fought for us, so we fight for them now!"

The Chronicler sighed, "I agree that the situation is a tricky one. Either way, someone would have lost. Had you stepped aside and allowed the ancient feud to continue on its own, the cheetahs would have been overrun. But, due to your intervention, now not only Avalar, but the entire race of dragons is at stake. If this war should go on, the consequences will be…catastrophic."

"Then what were we supposed to do?" Spyro cried, horrified. "And what can we do now?"

"It's alright," Cynder cut in suddenly, uncomfortable at seeing Spyro so distressed. She draped a wing about his shoulders reassuringly. "We'll figure something out. I'm sure Ignitus has a good reason for calling us here."

The Chronicler smiled gratefully at the black dragoness, "Thank you, Cynder. Yes, Spyro, I do have a reason for calling you here. There is something you can do to help stop this war. Allow me to show you something."

Turning around, he summoned a familiar purple book and flipped through it. It opened upon a largely blank page, and the young dragons craned to get a look. Spyro knew it was his book, and he was shocked when he saw the picture that lay upon the yellowed page. Two panthers, back to back, identical to the very last hair—but for the ragged ear the one on the left bore. One held a staff in his paws, the other a pair of twin rapiers. Their eyes were dark and cold.

"Why…why are they in my book?" Spyro stammered, "Who are they?"

"These two are the twin leaders of the panther tribe," Ignitus told him grimly. "Their names are Skulk and Skelos. And they are in your book, Spyro, because they will play a great part in your future. This, I am certain. But how and what, I do not know. However, I am sure the key to stopping this war lies with them."

"So you want us to find them?" Spyro asked hesitantly, still staring at the picture.

"Find them, isolate them, and speak with them. They must see reason. But beware, Spyro, there is every chance they will use your own emotions against you," the Chronicler's eyes were grim. "They will do anything to regain the honour their ancestors lost, but perhaps you can come to a compromise. But you are already fighting your own war, one that rages within you. This, you already know."

Hesitantly, Spyro raised a paw to his chest, as though to feel the darkness that pulsed through his heart. The memories of the nightmares he'd suffered, and the many slips he'd had into the shadows of madness, caused shivers to ripple along his spine. He could feel his friends watching him uneasily.

"If you are to stop this war," Ignitus continued grimly, "first you must win the war that rages inside your own heart."

"You…know about that?" the purple dragon managed to stammer, moments later. The uncontrollable anger that lingered within him shamed Spyro at the best of times, but to admit to it in front of Ignitus was another thing entirely. He had always strived to make his mentor proud, and he had hoped somehow that the old fire guardian would never find out about his greatest flaw. But now…

"Spyro, I am the Chronicler. It is my duty to know," Ignitus's voice was as gentle as possible, and Spyro had a strange feeling that somehow he understood the shame he felt. "And I do not think any less of you because of it. I want to _help_ you master it."

"Master it?" Spyro sighed and looked down at his paws. "I don't want to master it; I want to _get rid_ of it. I don't care how or why it happens; I just want it to stop. Even if it means I never use convexity again…I don't care; it's a horrible element. All it does is kill."

The Chronicler gazed upon him with gentle understanding, "All elements have the ability to kill, Spyro. It is true that convexity is more…potent, but this does not make it an evil element. The elements are only as evil as though who use them. Cynder is a prime example of this…as was Malefor."

The black dragoness shifted slightly, and Spyro glanced at her. He knew the allusion to the strange, dark elements she wielded bothered her in a way. They were but some of the scars that remained from her days as Terror of the Skies, and would remain for eternity. But, born from evil or not, the elements themselves were not so—for Cynder herself was not.

"Are you saying I need to learn how to control convexity?" Spyro asked hesitantly, and Ignitus nodded slowly.

"Life seeks out balance, both in nature and within us. Convexity is but one half of that balance. What you need is to awaken the other half. Any dragon, be they strong of mind and will, can control convexity and its counterpart. But only the purple dragon is destined to do so."

"Wait," Flame cut in suddenly. "Are you saying any of us can use that weird purple element Spyro has? Man, and here I thought it was just some purple dragon thing…"

"Any dragon can, Flame," Ignitus agreed, though there was a definite note of warning in his voice. "But only the strongest are able to control it. If not, you may find that _it_ controls _you_."

The red dragon snorted, but said no more, and secretly Spyro hoped he hadn't gotten any ideas into his head about pursuing the mysterious purple element. But then his attention turned back to his own troubles, and he anxiously met the Chronicler's silver gaze.

"I want to control it, Ignitus, I really do. But…I don't know how."

Ignitus lowered his head until his eyes were level with Spyro's, and they almost glowed with reassurance. "That is why I am going to point you towards someone who can help."

The purple dragon's eyes widened, "Who?"

"An ancient race," The chronicler straightened up and summoned another book with a wave of his paw. "One that many believe disappeared before Malefor was even hatched. But I know otherwise. If anyone can help you, they can."

"Who are they?"

A heavy, silvery-coloured tome opened in front of Ignitus's chest, and he turned it to face his curious audience. Upon the page were pictures of dragons Spyro didn't know, dragons that looked quite unremarkable, but for their strange eyes. Even in the colourless picture, he could tell that something wasn't right about their eyes—they seemed to stare forever into everything and nothing, to a world far beyond the mortal realm. There were many of them, from hatchlings to elders, all with the same, mysterious eyes.

"They call themselves the Magic Crafters."

"Years before Malefor's egg was laid, the Magic Crafters lived together with the rest of the dragons at Warfang and the Dragon Temples. Unlike normal dragons, they could not control any of the five basic elements, and instead specialised in other areas. Many held oracle abilities, others had their own strange branches of magic—but what tied them all together was their ability to control the mysterious element convexity, and its counterpart, light."

More pictures were presented to the awed young dragons—a young dragoness morphing into the form of a bird; a larger dragon suspending his prey above the earth by mind alone; two dragons battling with elements that reminded Spyro strongly of his own convexity.

"They were a race very much in tune with the spiritual realm, and some say this was what gave them their unusual abilities. Though some feared them, the Magic Crafters were mostly welcomed by the other dragons. But…then a purple egg was laid. The dragons were awed and amazed by the unusual colour, by the Magic Crafters were not. They warned the dragons that the hatchling inside this egg would one day rise to become more dangerous than they could ever imagine. They were in favour of destroying the egg before it could even hatch."

"Naturally, the dragons protested. Destroying an unhatched egg was no less than criminal, and they would not hear the warnings of the Magic Crafters. The relationship between them deteriorated, and when the dragons refused to smash the purple egg, the Magic Crafters came to their own decision. They left."

"Some were sorry to see them go, but most were glad the 'threat' to their precious purple egg was gone. Years later, however, the warnings of the magic tribe would prove to be true, and a thousand year war would begin. That side of the story is history, but it is unknown to dragonkind what befell the Magic Crafters after they left. Even the Chronicler cannot tell you much…"

Ignoring the confused looks of the young dragons, Ignitus lowered the book.

"The last entry in this book is the last piece of information we know regarding the Magic Crafters. After that, the pages are blank. But the story is left unfinished. It is as though, in their seclusion, they managed to shield themselves from even the Chronicler. Their whereabouts remain unknown even to me."

"So how are we supposed to find them?" Spyro asked, frustrated. "If they disappeared almost a thousand years ago, they might as well be extinct."

"Perhaps," Ignitus agreed with a slow nod of his head, his brow furrowed. "But I am sure that is not the case. The Magic Crafters still exist, and you must find them. They may be your only hope of regaining control of your elements, Spyro, and therefore our only hope to stop this war."

"Remind me again why Spyro learning to control his evil side is going to help us stop the war," Kazan cut in suddenly, sounding impatient. "It's the panthers we're up against, isn't it? Why can't we just cut them all down and be done with it?"

The Chronicler glared sternly at the crimson dragon, "Killing is not the way to win this war. If it continues, there will _be_ no victory—for either side. Someone needs to come between the two sides, and stop them before more blood is shed. Already the panthers move against Warfang, and the dragons prepare to meet them in battle. Only you, young dragons, remain on the outside, on the thin line between friend and foe. As the purple dragon, it is Spyro's duty to bring balance to the world. He must not take sides, and I urge you, his friends, not to as well. You are the ones who must convince the panthers to see reason."

"Do not see them as your enemies; rather as potential allies who need to be shown the right path. The panthers are not a bad people. They seek only to regain the honour of their ancestors, but have become blind to what is right and what is wrong. You must open their eyes, Spyro. But to do that, first you must open yours."

"You want us to make _friends_ with the panthers?" Flame practically spat the word out, disgusted and horrified by the suggestion. Beside him, Saffron was trembling with anger.

"They killed one of our friends!" she yelled suddenly, and everyone jumped. "And they ruined the life of another! They don't deserve mercy! They deserve to die, all of them! I'll never make friends with such horrible monsters!"

"Easy, Saff…" Zannak muttered, drawing a wing around his sister and pulling her back. But she brushed him away, eyes blazing with anger and anguish.

"I am asking you to remain unbiased," Ignitus said sternly, meeting Saffron's furious gaze levelly. "I understand they have caused you all great wounds already. But the wounds that will be inflicted on the dragon race, and everything around it, will be far greater should you choose to fight this war. You _must_ stop it. You must learn to forgive, or those wounds will never heal."

"That is another reason why you must find the magic tribe. Unlike the dragons, the cheetahs, and the panthers, they have no part in this war. _They_ can remain unbiased, and they may be the key to stopping this war."

"I don't care," Saffron said heatedly, limbs trembling. "I will get revenge for what they did to Zephira and Ciro. Even if it kills me, I will get revenge."

"Revenge only brings more harm than good, young Saffron," Ignitus said gently. "Remember that."

But the yellow dragoness just looked away, and the Chronicler sighed with sadness. An uncomfortable silence fell, yet again, until it was broken by Spyro.

"Alright…so, we need to find these…Magic Crafters," he said, frowning. "But how are we supposed to find them?"

Ignitus seemed glad to get back on track, and quickly opened the book again to a page somewhere in the middle of the silvery tome. "There is but one lead…the last species to lay eyes on the Magic Crafters before they disappeared entirely from the books of time."

The picture he showed them was of a species that none of them had ever seen before. From the waist down they were covered in thick fur, and their feet ended in cleaved hooves that reminded Spyro of deer. But, from the waist up, their bodies were covered in smooth, hairless skin, but for the long fur that sprouted from their heads. They wore clothing on the top halves of their bodies, similar to that of the cheetahs', and their faces were flat, furless, and fine-featured. On the stockier creatures, Spyro thought he could see tiny, stubby horns just poking through the hair on their heads.

"In the forest of Enrin, the Magic Crafters came upon a race of fawns, with whom they stayed for a while. The fawns were a peaceful, harmless race, and they were very hospitable. But the Magic Crafters did not stay. Eventually, they left Enrin, and that is where their story stops. Nothing more is known of them. However, the descendents of those who once welcomed the Magic Crafters still live and thrive in the forest of Enrin, and they may be the only ones who know what happened to the elusive magic tribe. You must go there, and speak with them."

Spyro's wings seemed to droop, "I guess that means we're not going back to Warfang."

Ignitus sighed and closed the book, "I am sorry, Spyro, but I called you away from the city for a reason. You must not become caught up in this war, until you are ready to stop it. Warfang is about to become a dangerous place, and I cannot allow you to return there. You must seek out the magic tribe, learn to control your powers, and return, unbiased, to put forward a compromise that will end the war before it can spiral out of control. And the more allies you have with you, the better."

The Chronicler looked sternly at every one of them, and they shuffled their paws nervously, exchanging sheepish glances. They all knew that, at this point in time, they saw the panthers only as their enemies. It wouldn't be easy, they knew, to change that view. But if it was going to help Spyro, not to mention the entire race of dragons, they were willing to try.

"We'll do what we can," Cynder spoke up determinedly. "And we'll stick with Spyro until the end. Even if it means we have to distance ourselves from the rest of our race…"

"But what about everyone at Warfang?" Spyro insisted, and Cynder could tell he was struggling to accept everything he'd been told. "Are we just going to desert them? What if they need our help? We can't just desert them in the face of war…"

The Chronicler shook his head, "If I know my old comrades, they can handle themselves. There are enough dragons at Warfang to hold out for now. They will simply have to survive without the purple dragon. We did it once, Spyro, for hundreds of years. We can do it again. Have faith in them."

The purple dragon heaved a sigh, defeated, "Alright, Ignitus, you win. We will find this magic tribe, and find a way to stop this war. I promise."

"Thank you, Spyro. I have faith in you. In all of you. I know you will not fail me. I can show you the way to Enrin, if you like."

Only Spyro really understood what he meant, and surprised the others when he shook his head. "We can't, Ignitus, we need to go back to the swamp. Sparx is there waiting for us. Just tell us which way to go."

"Very well," the Chronicler agreed with a nod of his wizened head, "Enrin lies to the west, just beyond the Midnight Mountains. If you fly fast, you should make it in just over a week."

The purple dragon tried not to look alarmed at those words. A week seemed like an awfully long time to be away from Warfang, especially when the city was facing war once again. But he knew he had no other choice, and so nodded in consent.

"I wish I could offer you a rest, Spyro," Ignitus added, sounding very apologetic. "But it would be best for you to leave here as soon as possible. Time has no restraints here at the White Isle. When you leave, you may find that you have been away much longer than you would have expected. You must be on your way."

Spyro frowned, but nodded anyway. The last time he had come to the White Isle, he remembered, he had spent hardly an hour in the company of the previous Chronicler. But when he had left, the Night of Eternal Darkness had already arrived. Granted, he had not known when the Night was due to arrive, but its suddenness had surprised him. It worried him to think of how much time had passed since they had first set paw on the White Isle.

Ignitus saw them all to the door, but hesitated a moment just as they all stepped out. Spyro glanced back at him quizzically, and he had the distinct feeling that the Chronicler was battling with a difficult decision. He opened his mouth to ask, but Ignitus spoke before Spyro could say a word.

"There is…one more thing," his voice was hesitant, unsure. "Cynder, Flame, if I may speak with you both? Alone."

The aforementioned dragons exchanged curious glances, and Flame levelled an interested gaze at the Chronicler. "Us?"

Ignitus nodded, and Spyro thought he looked almost guilty. Frowning, the purple dragon stepped forward.

"Ignitus? What is this about?" he asked anxiously, but to his surprise the Chronicler shook his head.

"I am sorry, Spyro. This is for their ears only. It will only take a moment."

"But—!"

"It's alright, Spyro," Cynder murmured soothingly beside him, nuzzling his cheek gently with the tip of her snout. "We'll see you in a bit. I'm sure it's nothing terrible."

The purple dragon swallowed hard, glancing from Cynder's reassuring face to Ignitus's anxious one—and could have sworn he saw guilt behind his silvery eyes. But he didn't get a chance to argue before Cynder and Flame stepped back into the room. The door shut behind them with a dull thud, leaving the rest of them alone in the gloomy hall of trials.

**A/N: So, Alta held me at gunpoint and insisted a write a chapter about him...so this happened. Okay, maybe that isn't quite what happened, but you get the picture. There are several things in this story that I still don't have the details confirmed for, which was probably why I had trouble with this chapter. Damn you, Ignitus. And if you can't spot the blatant classic Spyro reference in this chapter, I will be very disappointed in you, Spyro fans. Also, elemental weapons, because I could. Oh yeah, dunno if anyone noticed, but I changed the tags a bit. I decided friendship was more central to this story than romance. xP**

**Thanks as always to my wonderful reviewers. Three chapters ago I was marvelling over 400 reviews...now it's almost to 500. What is this madness.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I'm back. I'm alive. I'm sorry. You don't want to listen to my ramblings, have a 3-month-late chapter.**

**24.**

Tall grasses danced to an eerie tuneless song as an icy wind crept across the grasslands. The cloudless star-flecked sky promised a flawless day come dawn, but there was no midnight sun to chase away the chill. Only the twin moons cast light upon the grassland. Warmth was found only around the trembling flames of campfires. Illuminated by firelight, the dark shapes of panthers covered the grass like a great sea of black fur. Surrounding them like sharks around a school of fish were the much larger forms of the Dreadwings, spread out across the grasslands.

Echoing across the midnight landscape, the mournful howls of captured Death Hounds disturbed the dark cats from their rest. Trapped in enclosures of stone, they paced restlessly. The crackling of fire and the eerie whisper of wind joined the lonesome song of the hounds, keeping silence at bay. Sleep was naught but a fantasy to many that night.

The dim light of the red moon reflected in the staring eyes of a panther as he lay awake, gazing into the dark expanse of sky. Skelos lay on his back, a crackling fire to his left and his brother perched stiffly on a jutting rock nearby. It had been several days since his return from Concurrent Skies, but they had yet to move against Warfang. They weren't ready. Not yet. Absentmindedly he turned a small cold object over and over in one paw, his thoughts far away amongst the ribbon of stars that stretched across the night.

Blinking lethargically, Skelos raised the object into his line of sight and observed the way the firelight played off its dark shimmering surface. The tracking gem glinted mockingly back at him. It reminded him of something.

"Skulk?"

At first there was no reply, and Skelos's voice sounded strange and lonely in the silence. Rolling onto his side, he observed his brother's back, tense and straight as he sat upon his perch of stone. Seconds later he received a gruff response.

"What is it?"

Skelos hesitated. "What will we do if the purple dragon is back at Warfang?"

More silence, followed by a rustle as his brother stood. Skelos sat up in time to see Skulk slide down from his perch and land next to him in the tall grass. His expression was taught and stormy.

"You've had the tracking gem all this time and you haven't checked?"

"I suppose it slipped my mind," Skelos said, gazing at the tiny gem nestled in the pad of his paw. He didn't need another word from Skulk to know what needed to be done. The dark gem crackled to life as he closed his fist over it and concentrated. Purple light crept through the gaps in his dark fur and illuminated his watching eyes.

With a harsh spitting sound that wasn't usual, the projection flickered to life above Skelos's paw. But before either of the twins could process what they were seeing, the image crackled angrily and changed. Bemused, Skelos could only stare as it repeated this process several times, skipping over images too fast for him to keep up. It spat and crackled like a fire out of control.

"What's wrong with it?" Skulk wondered aloud, voicing his twin's very thoughts. As though it had heard the derision in the panther's tone, the tracking gem uttered a particularly violent spitting sound and the projection went dark. Before the panthers had time to be alarmed, however, it flared back to life once more, still trying in vain to establish a stable connection.

"I'm…not sure," Skelos frowned and for a moment he looked uncharacteristically worried. His eyes tried desperately to keep up with the swift reel of images playing in the projection, but he couldn't focus on anything—just blurs of colour. Occasionally it would freeze for a split second and he caught several glimpses of images that made no sense to him—a warrior frozen in stone, a silvery vortex of what could have been wind, a ring of candles.

"I've never seen a tracking gem behave like this," he admitted to Skulk, who didn't look pleased. "It's almost as though…as though time is moving quicker for them than it is for us."

"Ridiculous," Skulk growled and snatched the gem from his twin's paw before he could protest. Another angry crackling sound ensued and the projection went dark again before once more returning with a spit and a hiss. Skelos thought he caught sight of a dark beast with glowing white eyes before the image skipped and changed once more. The fur on the back of his neck stood on end.

"Where exactly were they going, anyway?" Skulk muttered, tapping the crystal impatiently in a vain attempt to stabilise the projection. Skelos eyed the projection warily, but the white-eyed demon did not appear again.

"Going?" He blinked, thrown off by the question. "Oh…the Chronicler. They were going to find the Chronicler or something. At least, that's what Orpheus said."

"If he even exists." Skulk gave a derisive snort and shook the tracking gem roughly, as though that would help. "Damn crystal!"

"Give it here," Skelos said. He snatched the gem back as swiftly as it had been snatched from him, receiving a glare from his irritable twin.

Almost instantly the image stabilised, much to the surprise of both panthers. Skelos almost dropped it in surprise, but managed to steady his paw and found himself staring at an old grey-blue dragon. There was a thin, eerie blue crystal hanging against his white-grey chest and a look of immeasurable wisdom in his mysterious silver eyes. The projection didn't skip again and a grin wound its way onto Skelos's face.

"Who's got the magic touch?" he taunted.

"Shut up," Skulk snapped edgily, his eyes on the projection. "Let's see what this old geezer has to say…"

* * *

The door to the Chronicler's library creaked shut as Cynder and Flame followed the former fire guardian back inside, separating them from Spyro and the others. Cynder could not deny how taut her nerves had suddenly become. Already several scenarios of what the Chronicler had to tell them were resonating in her conscious mind. Glancing sideways at Flame, she was almost jealous to see the mild interest bordering on apathy that played across his face, as though nothing that could be said would be worth his concern.

"I will do what I can to control the flow of time for now," Ignitus said, breaking the black dragoness from her thoughts. Returning her gaze to the Chronicler, she could clearly see the strain and worry across his features. She had a feeling it had little to do with the White Isle's unusual flow of time. "Too much time has passed already, but I cannot control it for long. We must make this quick."

With a sweep of his greying wing, the Chronicler summoned a familiar book from its shelf and turned back to the curious young dragons. Cynder hoped she was imagining the conflicted sorrow that haunted his silvery eyes. But the heaviness of his voice as he brought the book to hover in front of them only worsened her fears.

"The information I am about to impart to you, Cynder, Flame, is very dangerous. And I warn you… You may not like what I am about to show you."

Without another word, he flipped the book open.

Outside the Chronicler's den, Spyro was pacing anxiously to and fro outside the door, a haunted, anxious look in his violet eyes. A part of him desperately wanted to know what was being said on the other side of the door, and with every passing second the urge to press his ear against the seamless wood grew harder to resist. It would not be the first time he had eavesdropped on an elder, but somehow the Chronicler seemed…different. Far beyond the old fire guardian he had once been, the dragon formerly known as Ignitus commanded a certain respect in the way that he carried himself and the immeasurable wisdom brimming in his eyes. Spyro could not have brought himself to eavesdrop on his old mentor regardless, but somehow the knowledge that he was the _Chronicler_ made the rebellious thought seem all the more incredulous.

Nevertheless, he could not shake the unnerving feeling that something big—something _important_—was happening behind those doors. And he was being left in the dark.

The purple dragon paid little attention to the soft paw-steps that approached his pacing form, at least until he felt the warm presence of another beside him. Hesitating, Spyro looked up from the worn stone to find Ember pressed against his side. Her azure eyes were filled with kind reassurance. She smiled gently and Spyro sat down with a sigh, allowing her to enshroud him in a comforting wing.

"It'll be all right you know," she said, and her voice was so soft that only Spyro heard. He didn't reply, only stared edgily at the closed door and wished he could know what was happening beyond. Ember's dainty paw weaved into his and he didn't pull away.

"There is nothing so important he would tell them that he would not tell you," she continued. Spyro wished he could believe her. He wished he knew what made her so sure. But her presence beside him, one that usually never left Flame's side, reminded him that he was not the only one on the wrong side of the door. They all were. All of them, except Cynder and Flame. Spyro wished he knew why.

"Spyro?"Ember's voice was questioning this time and Spyro couldn't help glancing at her. "What worries you the most?"

He hesitated for a long time, tangled, half-formed thoughts rushing through his head like debris washed down a raging river. At length, he opened his mouth, frowned, and closed it again, unable to word what he wanted to say. But Ember was patient and, as she waited for him to speak, Spyro sensed only warm compassion from her. It calmed him somehow. Of all the dragons that stood in this room today, Ember was the friend he had known the longest—she had stayed by him in dark times before the days of peace at Warfang. And she stayed with him now, when that peace was broken.

"I'm…I'm afraid of what Ignitus is going to say," Spyro admitted at last, his voice heavy. "I'm afraid that it is something important, something he doesn't trust me enough to know. I'm…I'm scared that he's losing faith in me. And I'm scared because I feel like he has a reason to."

"Spyro…_Spyro_," Ember sighed, and he thought he caught the hint of a tinkling laugh hidden in her voice. She hugged him closer with her wing and tried to catch his eyes. "That's the silliest thing I've heard all day. And trust me, when you spend any amount of time alone with _those_ two, you hear a lot of silly things."

It took a moment for Spyro to realise she was talking about Flame and Kazan, but a smirk tugged at his lips at the thought. Ember smiled gently and patted his paw, for all the world like a mother comforting her timid son.

"There is no reason the Chronicler—_Ignitus_—or anyone for that matter should lose faith in you. There are things you are struggling with, I know, but everyone has their own demons to fight. You aren't alone, and you aren't different. We will never stop believing in you and neither will he. You know him better than that, don't you?"

Spyro bit his lip subconsciously, glancing from the closed door to Ember's reassuring smile. She peered intensely at him and he realised she wouldn't be happy until he gave an answer. He wasn't even sure he had the answer. _Did_ he know Ignitus better? Did he feel like he knew anyone well enough that he could be certain they would never lose faith in him? Did he even know _himself_ well enough?

"Don't you?" Ember pressed insistently and Spyro grimaced. He forced that grimace into a strained smile, however, and gave her an answer. Even if he wasn't so sure of that answer himself.

"Yeah…I guess you're right. Ignitus has always believed in me. Always."

_But it's been so long now…what if things have changed since I last knew him?_

"Exactly, so stop worrying." Ember patted his back companionably with her wing, never dropping her warm smile. Spyro only wished he could return it whole-heartedly. But the smile he offered her in return only felt like a lie.

While Spyro worried and Ember tried in vain to reassure him, Saffron and the three boys were in deep conversation regarding a certain wind dragoness back at Warfang. Opting to remain unconcerned about whatever was happening behind the closed door, they gathered in a small circle on the other side of the room and put their heads to good use. With the knowledge that their journey was far from over—indeed, it was only just beginning—there were certain things that needed serious reconsideration.

"We _have_ to go back to Warfang," Saffron insisted for the third time in the last ten minutes, slamming her paw into the floor as though to illustrate her point. But despite how adamant his sister was, Zannak only shook his head apologetically. The yellow dragoness turned imploring eyes on Kazan and Roku, but the fire dragon looked away. Roku merely bowed his head.

"Wh…we can't just leave her there!" Saffron exclaimed incredulously, stumbling over her words in indignant disbelief. There was no need to ask who she was referring to. For no other dragoness would Saffron argue so fiercely.

"The old guy told us we can't go back there," Zannak said, offering his sister an apologetic look. He of all dragons knew how protective she became when the subject of Zephira was brought up. But he was also less inclined than most to tread carefully around her. "If Warfang's about to get as dangerous as he says it is, we'd best stay away. Besides, we've got a new mission now."

"But that's all the more reason to go back for her!" Saffron argued, eyes blazing indignantly. Her voice rose in volume alongside her frustration and Spyro glanced back at them curiously, wondering what the fuss was about. Noticing this, Saffron ducked her head and bit her lip, trying to focus on the ball of hot anger condensing in her chest and push it back down again.

Zannak patted her shoulder awkwardly and she glared at him out of the corner of her eye.

"It's dangerous for her to stay in Warfang," she continued, fighting her irritation from rising in the face of their blatant refusal to help their city-bound friend.

"It's dangerous for anyone to stay in Warfang," Kazan cut in before Zannak could respond. Glancing sideways at Roku, he continued at the agreeing nod from the earth dragon. "But it's even more dangerous outside Warfang. At least for a dragon who can't fly."

"But she'd have _us_ to protect her!" Saffron insisted. "In Warfang, all she'd have is—"

"The guardians and the entire city guard," Roku finished, though it was clear that was not what had been on Saffron's mind. She opened her mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of it and closed it again looking conflicted. "I understand you will fear for her safety as long as it is not in your own paws, but Warfang is the best place for her. Without flight, she would only slow us down and we cannot protect her from everything. At least at Warfang she will be amongst many others under the protection of the guardians. There is always safety in numbers."

"What he said," Zannak agreed, pointing at Roku with a talon.

Saffron glared at all three of them, frustration still festering in her gut. What irked her most was not that they were disagreeing with her, but that what they were saying made sense. Every part of her screamed to return to Warfang and find Zephira—to save her from whatever horrors that were soon to come to the city—but she had no argument to combat theirs. As much as she didn't want to agree with Roku, she could not deny that his words were the honest truth.

"Dangerous as Warfang is about to become, who's to say the dangers we will encounter outside the city won't compare?" Roku continued, a calm steadiness to his voice that quelled the angry churning inside Saffron. "It won't be easy, what we are about to attempt, of that I am sure. If the Chronicler is to be believed—and he has given me no reason to think otherwise—the entirety of the Dragon Realms is about to become a dangerous place. We cannot protect Zephira, not outside of Warfang's walls. A grounded dragon is an easy target in the wilderness."

Saffron looked away, "Sometimes I wish you didn't say things that made so much sense. It's just…I've never been apart from her for so long. What if she needs me?"

"Hey," Zannak curled a wing over his sister's back, jostling her companionably, "you'll see her again, just wait. She's got the whole city to look after her if she needs us! But aren't you always the one telling us not to underestimate her?"

He poked his tongue out at that point and Saffron made a similar face in return.

'_That's just what Kazan said…'_ she mused to herself, _'maybe they listen to me more than I thought.'_

Grinning, Zannak bumped his forehead against hers and she sighed against his muzzle. A small smile curled her lips.

Silence descended over them like a warm blanket, heavy with thoughts but not uncomfortable. Kazan stared wistfully into the flickering tongues of flame that danced on the wicks of the circle of candles in the centre of the room. If he concentrated hard enough, he thought he could see shapes in the flames—like tiny dragons twirling together in an endless dance. Suddenly he felt very far from home.

"I guess…it will be a long time before we return to Warfang," he mused. Saffron looked up from the lazy staring match she had just slipped into with her brother.

"Do you think your mother will worry?" she asked, her voice soft. Had Kazan looked up he might have noticed the gentle sympathy on her face. But he did not, and a bitter snort left his nostrils.

"She won't care. Odds are she won't notice. She never does." His wings drooped ever-so-slightly and for a brief moment Saffron thought she saw a wistful longing in his eyes. A second later, though, and she assumed she had imagined it. His expression was conflicted, caught somewhere between melancholy and bitterness. "I don't even remember the last time I talked to her."

"At least she's still around," Zannak offered half-heartedly, exchanging a look with his sister.

Kazan just scowled. "She might as well not be."

Roku glanced from him to the electric siblings and back again, curiosity in his gaze. But he didn't get a chance to enquire—though he may have been too polite to, regardless—before the door to the Chronicler's Den creaked open. Spyro stepped back in surprise and Ember's wing slipped from his back. Nobody spoke as Cynder and Flame stepped back into their presence, Ignitus looming behind them like a tangible spirit.

The first thing Spyro noticed was the look on Cynder's face. For a split second he saw many things brimming in her emerald eyes—grief, disbelief, pain and fear. But then she rearranged her expression so quickly that he hardly had a chance to register the hollow, haunted look he thought he'd seen. She offered him a reassuring smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Spyro felt a hollow feeling open just below his heart, as though something had just been torn out of him. Ignitus had told her something terrible—something he didn't want Spyro to know. No false smiles, no hastily erected masks, could hide what her eyes told him.

"What did—" Spyro began, his voice almost catching in his throat. But Cynder shook her head once, a subtle movement that he almost didn't notice.

"It's nothing, Spyro," she assured him, though her eyes gave the lie away. "It's nothing important."

Her words were so definite, almost insistent, as though she was begging him to believe her, that Spyro couldn't bring himself to question her. Instead he just stared into her eyes and tried to read what he saw there. But though he searched desperately for the truth, her eyes would not reveal it to him and neither would she. It was as though an icy wall had just been erected between them and Spyro couldn't find the cracks to break through. Never before had Cynder felt so far away from him, even when they were so close their muzzles were almost touching. The unease inside him grew.

"It pains me to ask my guests to hurry, but you must go," Ignitus announced suddenly, breaking the icy silence that had just fallen upon the room. His voice was strained and worried in a way that reminded Spyro more of the old Fire Guardian he had once been than the wise, ethereal being he now was. "You must make haste, young dragons. Allow me to show you the exit."

Before any of the young dragons could respond, the Chronicler extended a wing towards the closed door on the other side of the chamber that had led into the trial of wind. With a faint hissing sound, like wind rushing through autumn leaves, the once-glowing wind rune faded into the wood and the door creaked open. Instead of the turbulent vortex of wind that had once been there, they now found themselves staring into a calm tunnel that seemed to be filled with silvery mist and starlight. It welcomed them into darkness, turning a slow dance as it waited for the dragons to enter.

Spyro gazed imploringly at his old mentor, wishing with all his heart that they did not have to leave so soon. After over a year, he had finally been reunited with the one dragon he had ever considered a father and yet it felt like it had lasted only the blink of an eye. There were so many things he wanted to say, to hear—so many questions and stories to ask and to tell. If he could, he would spend an eternity here beside the former Fire Guardian. But to be ripped from him so soon…

"I wish you could come with us," were the words that slipped from Spyro's lips. But his thoughts said something different, echoing a desperate longing he could not bear to voice aloud. _'I wish I could stay.'_

Ignitus smiled sadly, "As do I, young dragon. But my duty is here and yours is far beyond the horizon. I will always be watching, though, Spyro. Whenever you need me, know that I am never too far away. Good luck, young dragon. I asked the ancestors nothing more than a simple wish to see you again and they delivered. It does an old dragon good to see your face once more."

"Guess that means we're leaving," Kazan said, pushing himself to his feet with a groan and stretching his limbs. Saffron stood up beside him and turned to face the Chronicler, looking uncharacteristically shy.

"Thank you for your hospitality…"

"And for everything you've done for us," Ember finished when Saffron trailed off, unsure what else to say. The yellow dragoness passed her a grateful smile. Ignitus inclined his head to both of them.

"It is my honour, young dragons. Take care of yourselves and your friends. I have never met a more able group of young dragons to whom I would entrust such important matters. Spyro is lucky to have every one of you."

"No," Cynder interrupted, glancing sideways at the purple dragon, "we're lucky to have him. And he is lucky to have you, Ignitus."

As one, the young dragons moved towards the starlight tunnel, ready to embark on a journey they had never expected to take. They looked back at Spyro, who hesitated beside the Chronicler, caught between duty and the longing to remain. But eventually he turned, met Ignitus's once fiery eyes, and stared at him for a long time as though to commit him to memory—every scale, every whisker, every shred of wisdom in those silvery eyes.

"Thank you, Ignitus."

"May the ancestors look after you," the Chronicler replied fondly as he watched the group turn and step through the door, where they became part of the mist and starlight that swirled in the darkness. Spyro looked back one last time before he plunged after them.

"May they look after us all."

* * *

The sun had set and risen a few times on Warfang since the arrival of the pantheress Terra and her cheetah escorts. Though the days had passed agonizingly slow for her, it seemed all too soon that the sun set on her third day and she witnessed the moons washing the city in a pale glow for the third time. As she always did on these late evenings, Terra sat by the arched window in her room and watched the stars dancing in the blue-black heavens. Yet again she found herself comparing the moons to her own plight—they were alone amongst the countless stars, yet all too conspicuous.

Smoothing her tunic absentmindedly, a soothing movement that calmed her subconscious mind, Terra turned her gaze to the cheetah fast asleep beside her. Mari was curled up in a tangle of blankets, her face half hidden in her paws and her sides rising and falling with a gentle rhythmic motion. Her tail had somehow escaped the tangle of sheets and lay draped across her legs, the tip twitching every so often. She looked so peaceful, so unconcerned with everything outside her world of dreams. Terra couldn't help but smile despite the jealous twinge in her chest.

She wished she could sleep so easily. But there were so many anxious, half-formed thoughts twisting and tangling in her mind that sleep seemed but a fantasy. Though the days she had spent in the dragon city had not been unpleasant, nor had they been entirely comfortable. The tense worry and dread that held the heart of the entire city in its inescapable grip was all too plain to see—and Terra could only share this worry. To the dragons, the threat of the panthers was like a shadow on the horizon—indefinable and cloaked with unanswered questions—but Terra knew her tribe all too well. She knew that when they struck, the battle would be swift and unexpected, and the twins would do all in their power to snatch victory from the claws of Warfang. The threat of the attack she knew was to come was to her more like a knife held against her throat. There was no escape and it was only a matter of time.

If only she knew when that time would come. Somehow, not knowing for sure made it that much worse. And the atmosphere of Warfang itself, so tense it could be cleaved with a knife, did nothing to sooth her nerves.

It was all too apparent now that the dragons were preparing for what they obviously considered to be the beginning of war. With the knowledge that their enemies were out there and possibly growing in power, the guards patrolling the walls of the dragon city had doubled in number, as had the combat classes for the students of the academy. The guardians had sent out scouts and spent their days with the council discussing battle tactics and emergency evacuation plans—something they hoped would not be necessary. Between the distrust of the dragons and the threat of the tribe she had betrayed, Terra felt like she was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

Unexpectedly, the young pantheress then found her thoughts shifting towards the other cheetahs that had accompanied her here. She saw little of the one they called Cougar, who seemed to be treating his time at Warfang like a vacation and often slept half the day away. But Hunter was there almost as often as Mari; somehow, he was never too far away. The atmosphere of Warfang seemed to have had an effect on him, too. Unlike his usual self—at least, what she had seen of it in her short time at the cheetah village—he had become almost as stiff as his chief. There was a constant steely glint in his eyes and not even the shadow of a smile had been seen on his face for the last few days. Terra couldn't help but notice that he hardly spoke unless necessary and seemed to carry himself as though he was expecting an ambush at any given moment.

The very opposite of this, however, was Mari. It was as though the stiff atmosphere of the city and its inhabitants had no affect whatsoever on the cheery female cheetah. For Terra she was like a flower in a field of stone, the only smile in a sea of frowns. It didn't take long for her to decide that she would have been driven mad already had it not been for Mari.

By now, the entire city had heard of the panther in their midst. This, in turn, made things harder for Terra. As Chios had suspected, not many of the dragons were as welcoming as she had been. They leered at her from the streets, shooting silent messages of disgust her way, and Terra thought for sure they wouldn't hesitate to attack if she hadn't been escorted everywhere by the cheetahs.

Hunter hadn't seen fit to let the two girls wander the streets alone and Terra was secretly glad of this. Though Mari was more welcome company, the pantheress felt safer when Hunter was around. The dragons respected him and their hostile glances were fewer when he was with her. Mari, however, didn't quite see things the same way. She begged and pleaded for Hunter to let her and Terra spend the day without him playing bodyguard and trailing them everywhere. Though Hunter resisted her pleas for a time, Terra had a feeling even he couldn't last forever.

The following morning would only prove that thought right.

When the early morning sun crept into their shared room, it found Hunter leaning on the doorframe. He looked tired, as though he hadn't slept in days, and if one looked closely they might have seen the dark patches beneath his eyes, almost hidden by his golden fur. In contrast, Mari stood in front of him, wide awake despite the early hour, her eyes bright and her whole body trembling with eagerness. Sitting in her usual spot by the window, her knees drawn to her chest, Terra listened.

"The guardians want my presence in a council meeting this morning," Hunter was saying, his voice as weary as his face, "and I likely won't be back until midday. Cougar's coming with me—_if_ I can wake him—and I can't expect you to stay cooped up in this tiny room all morning…"

A squeal left Mari's lips and she jumped forward to snatch up Hunter's paws in her own, eyes sparkling. "You're finally letting us go out on our own?"

He met her sparkling eyes sternly, "Don't make me regret it, Mari. I'm trusting you to be responsible…for once."

"_I'm_ responsible…"

"Then prove it to me," Hunter extracted his paws from her grip and turned his stern gaze on Terra. "If you have any problems, you can find myself and the guardians at the Atrium." He glanced briefly back at Mari. "You _know_ where that is, don't you?"

"Um…yes?" Mari grinned sheepishly, entwining her fingers behind her back. Hunter sighed.

"In the western district; biggest building in the city. You can't miss it. If you get lost—though I don't see how—you can ask one of the moles. I'm sure they'll be forthcoming. Let's hope it doesn't come to that, though." He stared intently from cheetah to panther and it was all too obvious what his eyes were saying. _'Stay out of trouble'_—not that Terra needed that advice to know that was a good thing to do in unfamiliar and possibly hostile territory.

"Now I need to go wake Cougar up," Hunter said, straightening up and brushing the creases from his deep green tunic.

"Good luck. You'll need it," Mari said with a grin and thought she saw the shadow of a smirk ruffle Hunter's whiskers. Seconds later it was gone and his stern gaze held the two girls like birds in a cage.

"Behave yourselves," he growled, as though he was talking to his two unruly daughters. "And don't give the dragons any reason to be hostile towards you."

Terra knew that last part was directed at her. She nodded mutely, as she always did when Hunter was around. Despite her lack of words, the cheetah seemed satisfied and turned away with a few parting words.

"I'll see you both after midday."

"'Kay," Mari waved him out of their room, a grin splitting her face. "Bye, Hunter! And thanks!"

His only reply was to raise a paw in farewell as he strode down the corridor towards Cougar's room and stopped to knock on the door. For a moment nothing happened, then a faint thud was heard from within the room and the door creaked open, admitting Hunter reluctantly. The second he had disappeared, Mari turned around with a high-pitched squeal and threw her arms around a stunned Terra.

"Finally!" she giggled, squeezing the pantheress—who she had discovered not long ago was several inches taller than her. "We can do whatever we want without him breathing down our necks! I've been waiting for this."

"Y-Yeah…" Terra gasped, massaging her ribs as Mari let her go, not feeling nearly as excited. In fact, a tangle of nerves had appeared in the pit of her stomach at the idea of going out in the streets of Warfang without Hunter's protection. She still didn't feel entirely safe around dragons, especially when they specialised in shooting her death-glares.

"Aren't you excited?" Mari pressed, grinning from ear to ear. "It means Hunter is finally starting to trust us…or, well, you. But he trusts me, too. Not that he didn't before, just not with important stuff, and…you know."

"That's…good, I guess," the pantheress mumbled uncertainly, rubbing one of her ears bashfully. Mari cocked her head and tugged on one of Terra's paws. They were wider and less dainty than her own, but held a strong sort of beauty that was complimented by her sleek black fur.

From Cougar's room, which was to the left of theirs, they could hear his grumpy muffled voice through the walls. No doubt he was complaining about having been woken so early. Mari knew all too well that her cousin rarely woke before the sun had reached its zenith—unless Forage or the chief were involved, or in this case, Hunter. She couldn't help but smirk at the sound of his muffled grumbling, but that smile faded when she saw the conflicted emotions in Terra's eyes.

"Aren't you happy?" Mari asked gently, frowning. "I know it's been hard for you, staying with people who are supposed to be your enemies…and everyone has been so on edge lately. But things will get better, and Hunter starting to trust you is a great start."

"Oh, no…I mean, yes, I am happy," Terra sighed and smiled hesitantly. "I don't know, I guess I'm still a bit nervous around dragons. I mean, they're so big…and powerful. And dangerous."

"_Only_ when you get on their bad side."

"I think I already was, before I even came here," the pantheress mumbled sadly.

"And that's why we're going to prove them wrong about you!" Mari piped up brightly, whirling towards the door with a clap of her hands. "Come on, then!"

"I'll try not to get you in trouble with Hunter," Terra offered with a bit of a smile as she trailed after the excited cheetah. Mari just grinned over her shoulder.

"You won't."

Despite Terra's misgivings—or perhaps because Mari was intent on proving those misgivings wrong—the day started out as pleasant as a day with a friend could be. They wandered the streets together, stopping briefly by the main hall to grab a quick breakfast and chat with Chios again. The dragoness had kept them longer than they had expected, gossiping about Naxos and Delos and how they had deserted her this morning to hone their skills in the battle arena at the Academy. But she eventually bade them farewell and the two felines moved on towards the northern sector.

Some of the moles stopped to chat to them in the street and Terra thought she had never met more agreeable, albeit tiny and almost overly-chatty, creatures in her life. Most of them didn't even seem to mind that she was a panther, unlike the dragons that passed by. But even they didn't seem as threatening as she expected they would, despite the mild hostility in their eyes. A few even cracked a smile when Mari called out greetings to them as they passed. Terra wondered if perhaps she had been overreacting and the dragons were already becoming used to her—accepting, even.

Feeling more confident and relaxed, the pantheress saw no reason to argue when Mari stopped them to watch the young dragons training in the flight grounds at the Academy. Most of them were young, still in their hatchling years, and an old withered dragoness was in the process of teaching them to fly. Terra watched with awe as a hatchling flapped his wings and rose off the ground for the first time in his life. Excitement exploded across his face when he realized his paws were no longer touching the ground, and Terra couldn't help but smile. She was explicitly reminded of the panther cubs back home and a warm feeling budded in her chest.

They stayed for some time, watching the flight lesson—during which time Terra noticed the elder teaching them was completely blind—before moving on. This time, walking paw in paw like life-long friends, the two felines headed for the gardens. Terra liked the gardens. They were so different from the barren wastelands of the Badlands where she had grown up and yet reminded her of the oasis where she had spent many summers playing with her brothers. But memories of the oasis were bittersweet now and quickly thrust from her mind.

The two of them were just standing at the edge of the gardens chatting to Chios again, who had just happened to pass by, when Terra heard something nearby. It was a soft voice, frail and sad, like a flower that had wilted long ago. For a moment Terra didn't understand what it was saying, until she realised—singing. She was singing.

_Sometimes I still wonder_

_If the night will ever end,_

_If the light I used to love_

_Will the broken shadows mend._

_A freedom yet so fleeting,_

_You breathe your final breath_

_And leave my heart still wondering_

_If freedom equals death…_

It was not flawlessly sung—the words were broken and the rhythm uneven—but Terra felt the emotion in the singer's voice as clearly as if it was in her own heart. Struck with the sudden urge to see who the singer was, Terra left Mari talking to Chios and crept through the bushes like a shadow. A white figure came into view—a dragoness, slim and frail-looking, beneath a blossoming tree with flowers as stark as her scales. A gentle breeze caused the grass to dance around her paws and a blossom to break away from its branches where it floated, light as a feather, to land on the dusky blue horns of the dragoness.

Terra observed her for a little while and her curious eyes didn't miss the many scars that decorated this dragon's pale scales like cobwebs. Her head was bowed to the ground, her tail wrapped around her forepaws and her eyes closed. Terra wished she could see what colour hid behind those snowy eyelids and know what tragedy had befallen such a frail-looking soul. Deciding it was rude to spy—and struck by a sudden confidence—she cleared her throat and stepped forward.

"Um…"

The dragoness looked up, startled from her reverie, and Terra smiled apologetically. But the instant lavender eyes met her own the dragoness was on her feet, an unmistakable expression masking her face—an expression caught somewhere between fear and anger. No—hatred. Terra took a step back, startled by the sheer emotion in this dragoness's eyes.

"Go…" her voice was so soft, Terra wondered if she's heard it at all or if it had merely been the wind.

"I-I heard you singing," she stammered, but broke off when the dragoness's eyes blazed like fire.

"Go!" she yelled, her voice rising several octaves. Then she turned sharply and Terra's breath caught in her throat. Her wing was deformed. Terra had never seen a limb so horribly mutated—the membranes had been all but torn away, the bones snapped and shattered, and there was little left of it but the ghost of a frame and a few tattered pieces of membrane. A sick feeling churned in her gut and she wondered why on earth anyone would keep such a broken, useless limb. Why had it not just been amputated?

As though sensing Terra's horrified gaze, the dragoness turned sharply again to hide her deformed wing from view, utter fear overtaking the revulsion in her eyes. Still, Terra did not move. She remained frozen, as though turned to stone, eyes locked on the white dragoness.

"_Why_ are you _here_?" the dragoness screeched suddenly and Terra jumped involuntarily. Without waiting for an answer—or perhaps afraid of the one she would get—the dragoness turned and fled into the bushes. In that split second, that crucial instant, Terra did the one thing her impulses screamed at her to do. She pursued.

"W-Wait!" she stammered, pushing through the bushes as the tip of the dragoness's tail disappeared into them. A flash of white caught her eye and she sprinted after it, brushing vegetation aside, desperate to catch up to this dragon for a reason she wasn't sure of. As they dashed through to the edge of the gardens, Terra failed to hear Mari's worried calls when the cheetah realised she was missing. Nor did she notice the green dragon lounging in the sun when she raced past. But he noticed her.

Terra wasn't sure why she was chasing this dragoness. All she knew as she followed her quarry into the mouth of a wide alleyway was the burning desire to set _something_ right—whatever that something was. And to do that, she needed to catch this dragoness and speak with her.

It was only a short chase. The white dragoness turned a corner sharply and the pantheress lost sight of her for a heart-stopping instant before she too skidded around the corner. Down the alley she fled, paws slapping on stone, determined to catch up with the white dragoness with the lavender eyes, whoever she was. She was so close—she could hear the dragoness's breaths coming in short gasps. It didn't even occur to her that she might be afraid.

Around another corner they skidded and suddenly came to a halt. A dead end loomed before them, a tall wall of stone between two buildings—nothing but an empty alley. As Terra skidded to a halt, breathing heavily, the white dragoness spun around. Her eyes flashed with such ferocity that the pantheress took an involuntary step back.

"Why are you following me?" she screeched, her voice drilling into Terra's ears like sword blades. "Haven't you done enough damage already?"

Terra was visibly stunned. In that instant she realised what she had been doing. Why had she been chasing this dragoness? What purpose could she possibly have had for herding her into a dead end? To interrogate her? But no, that didn't seem right at all. She wasn't here to interrogate anyone. It was a moment before she remembered her reasons for pursuing the white dragoness in the first place. Considering them now, she found they were pointless, selfish reasons.

"Tell me!" the white dragoness yelled and Terra was startled out of her reverie. "What do you _want_? Why are you _here_?"

"I just wanted to know why you were running!" Terra blurted out suddenly, but the instant the words left her lips they sounded ridiculous. Shaking her head at her own stupidity, she stepped to the side in a wordless gesture that she hoped the dragoness would understand. Her eyes roved over scarred white scales apologetically. "I shouldn't have chased you. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

But the glare in the dragoness's eyes did not abate. She stared at Terra as though she was mould growing in a damp corner—a disgusted, hateful look. But, behind that, Terra thought she saw something else. Something deeper, something stronger, as though she had a true reason for the hatred she shot from her eyes. A shiver crept over the panther's skin beneath her pitch-black fur.

"Just get out of this city," the dragoness spat, her voice like venom. "You don't belong here. You shouldn't even be here."

Terra wasn't sure what to feel. A small part of her felt offended, a large part of her was just hurt, and the rest of her wondered if this dragoness was right. But pushing those thoughts away, she spoke with intent to find out why the dragoness felt this way. "I mean no harm to anyone here. I apologise if any of my tribe has caused you grief, but I—"

"Get out!" the shriek of the dragoness cut her off. Her violet eyes were blazing like twin flames and the next emotion Terra felt was fear—fear and a sudden need to defend herself.

"What have I done?" she cried out, holding a paw to her heart as she gazed imploringly at the dragoness. "Tell me what I have done to wrong you!"

"_Done_?" the dragoness shrieked and this time her voice cracked not with rage but with a broken sob. "Look at me!"

"I didn't…"

"_Look at me_!"

Terra faltered at the raw, agonising emotion in those words, her breath catching in her throat. Again, her eyes picked out the network of scars that marred her snowy scales and the deformed wing folded tight at her side. It didn't take long for her to piece it all together, and when she did a variety of emotions clashed violently in her gut. She felt defensive, guilty, horrified and angry, and under it all was a churning mass of sympathy for this broken dragoness.

"Panthers did this to you," she said, her voice tight. It was not a question. "Of course they did."

"_You_ did this to me!" the dragoness exclaimed furiously and Terra jerked in surprise. Indignation sparked in her heart.

"My tribe did this to you, yes, but it was not I! I would never hurt someone so horribly! It wasn't me!" For a moment, she felt like she was screaming these words at herself just as much as she was at the dragoness. Just because her brothers had caused these wounds did not make her responsible. Did it? Suddenly, she wasn't even sure herself.

"All of you did this to me!" the dragoness argued ferociously, pure anger rising from her aura. "Because of you…! How dare you walk these streets? How dare you stay freely within the walls of this city? How dare you face me like this! How _dare_ you?"

'_How dare you blame me?'_ It was what Terra wanted to yell, but she could not bring herself to. She felt every bit as guilty as she did indignant and she could not shake that feeling for the life of her. Terra's hands trembled as she clenched them. The logical part of her mind told her this dragoness's anger was misplaced, but her gut still writhed with guilt nonetheless. Had she done this? Even if it had not been by her hands that these injuries that been forced upon an innocent dragoness, should she not share the blame? Her tribe had done this… Her brothers…

"I'm sorry," were the words that slipped from her lips instead, but though they were heartfelt, there was defiance in them. "I'm sorry for what my tribe has done. But I—"

Again, she did not manage to defend herself before the dragoness cut in, eyes burning with rage.

"Shut up," she spat. "I don't want to hear your fake remorse. I just want to see you leave this city. Leave and never come back!"

Terra hated this feeling, as though acid was eating away at her stomach. She felt dirty, unwanted, undeniably flawed. A burning need to do something, anything to redeem herself had surface from somewhere deep inside. Her defiant streak wanted to utter that simple word, to deny so simply the dragoness's angry request. But she could not force it past her lips. Something was stopping her—guilt, misplaced or not. And staring into this dragoness's eyes, she had the strangest feeling that her scars penetrated far deeper than her scales.

She didn't get the chance to ask.

"Oooh, that's unusually harsh of you, Zephira," said a taunting male voice from behind Terra. The pantheress spun around in alarm, reaching automatically for a weapon that was not there. A green dragon paced down the alleyway towards them, a dark glint in his hazel eyes. He was smaller than a full grown dragon, but a full head and shoulders taller—not to mention bulkier—than the white dragoness.

"Ch-Chasm?" the dragoness stammered, the anger suddenly dropping from her voice to be replaced by bemused fear. Terra glanced sharply from her to the new arrival, an uneasy feeling surfacing inside. "What are you doing here?"

The green dragon—Chasm?—shrugged almost nonchalantly and Terra noticed he walked with a pronounced limp. His scales were also decorated with scars and she wondered if her tribe was responsible for that too. But something about this dragon squashed any guilt she might have had regarding his injuries.

"I saw you running," he said smoothly, odd amusement dancing in his eyes. "I half expected I'd be too late and this panther would already have reunited you with your idiot brother. But you're still alive. Funny about that."

Terra heard the white dragoness draw in a sharp breath and she realised with a jolt of horror what he had implied. But what was that about her brother?

"At the very least," Chasm continued, "I'd have expected _you_ to attack. What, you think verbal abuse is going to avenge him?"

"What are you talking about?" Terra asked warily and turned to the white dragoness when he didn't respond. "What is he talking about?"

Zephira trembled and stared at her paws, unspeaking.

"You mean she doesn't know?" Chasm's obnoxious laugh filled Terra's ears and she was struck by the strangest urge to hit him. "Oh, Zephira, I knew you were a coward, but this? Man, what would your brother think…"

"Shut up!" Zephira screeched suddenly, her head snapping up and her eyes blazing. But their fire was muted and her lips were quivering undeniably, just like the trembling of her paws on the cobblestones. "D-Don't talk about him! Don't talk like you knew him! Ciro hated you just like everyone else! Don't you dare talk about him!"

Terra glanced from one to the other in bewilderment, suddenly feeling trapped and confused between the two dragons. She couldn't grasp what was going on, but some part of her told her that this Chasm was bad news.

"I suppose by 'everyone else' you mean your idiot friends," Chasm drawled with an ugly smirk, pacing slowly to and fro. "Well where are they now, Zephira? Where are your friends? Where's that stupid purple dragon and his ugly hussies? Where's your brother's bone-headed friends? Where's that dumb bitch Saffron? I'll tell you where…"

By now Zephira was trembling with rage and Terra could almost feel it radiating from her. She turned to give Chasm a look of disgust—though she didn't understand what was going on, his vulgar words and insults angered her none the less. A part of her began to feel defensive about the white dragoness, despite herself.

"Gone, that's where!" Chasm exclaimed suddenly, bitter amusement on his face. "Weak little Zephira, too cowardly to avenge her stupid brother, too timid to attack one measly little panther! Even your friends think you're a coward! Even they deserted you! They're ashamed to be friends with something so weak, someone who caused the death of her own brother!"

"How dare you?" Terra exclaimed, blazing with a sudden fury, at almost the exact time a shriek of anguish ripped itself from the white dragoness. The panther jumped aside in shock when Zephira dashed past her, shouldering Chasm aside none too gently, and disappeared around the corner without another word. Shocked, Terra was tempted to pursue her again, but this time Chasm was standing in her way. Instead, she clenched her paws and turned her angry gaze on him.

"How could you say such horrible things to her?" she yelled, gesturing violently with a paw. "You're both dragons, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be allies? How dare you be so insensitive! You…you…!"

"Cut the crap, panther," Chasm snarled before she got any further, and Terra faltered with surprise. As though Zephira's sudden departure was of no consequence to him, he turned his attention fully on the panther and resumed pacing. To and fro, his claws clicking on stone, for all the world like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. Again, Terra's paw reached involuntarily for that non-existent weapon.

"I know you don't care," he continued, eying her darkly. "That's not why I'm here. It wasn't Zephira I came for. It's you. And now that she's out of the way…"

"What do you want with _me_?" Terra exclaimed, bewildered and wary. Chasm rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure out. I want answers. I want to know why you haven't done anything yet," he paced closer suddenly, only a few steps, but enough to make Terra nervous. She was horribly aware of the wall at her back.

"What exactly were you expecting me to do?" she asked carefully.

"It's been days," Chasm continued, "and you haven't even tried anything. At least, not that I've seen. Unless you're passing secret information to your tribe and waiting for the right moment to strike. So, is that your game? Or is it something else? You know you're in prime position to attack the guardians, right? Well? I'm waiting."

Terra gaped at him, hardly daring to believe what she had just heard. She knew many of the dragons still mistrusted her, but none had openly accused her like this, let alone interrogated her about it. He didn't even seem remotely unsure about his accusations, too, as though he had solid evidence hidden somewhere under his scales. But that was impossible.

"I don't know where you get your information," she said coldly, choosing her words carefully despite her growing anger, "but you have been misinformed. I'm not here to harm anyone. I'm here to help. As for my tribe, I doubt they even know I'm here. They might not have even noticed I'm missing yet."

Chasm considered her for a moment and she glared defiantly back at him. Then a dark chuckle emanated from his throat and he took another step forward—this time, it was deliberately threatening.

"You're lying." His voice was laced with dark intent and it sent chills down Terra's spine. At that moment, she would have given anything to have a sword by her side—or at least a big stick. Unarmed, she felt incredibly vulnerable.

"I'm not," she said bluntly and realised with a start that she had been backing up absentmindedly. Her paws searched the wall behind her for some sort of escape, but found none in the rough sandstone surface. She cursed herself for being stupid enough to leave Mari's side, and even stupider to chase a dragon into an alleyway. But there was no helping that now.

"If you won't talk…I'll just have to _make_ you talk," Chasm sneered, a dark grin weaving its way onto his face. Terra's jaw tightened and her back hit the wall. Behind her back, her claws slipped silently from their sheaths.

As though Chasm had read her mind, a wild, amused look crossed his features and he added, "In case you were thinking about it, attacking me wouldn't be your best idea. If you really want the inhabitants of this city to trust you, then you'd be wise not to lay a single claw on me. Wouldn't want them to think you attacked a poor innocent dragon, now would you?"

Terra's breath caught in her throat, "You wouldn't."

"I would."

With a triumphant snarl, he charged his cornered prey and leapt with claws outstretched. Spurred on by a desire to keep herself alive, Terra ducked under his leaping form and shouldered roughly into his chest. He was knocked back to the cobblestones as she rolled across the ground and sprang back to her feet. Whirling around, she just managed to catch his tail before it hit her, his clubbed tailblade quivering inches from her face. She released him instantly when he ripped his tail from her grip.

Weaving away from his slashing claws, she sheathed her own and landed a punch right beneath his left eye. His grunt of pain rewarded her as she staggered away, nursing her hand from the bruises his hard scales had inflicted on it. Now the open alleyway was at her back and it was Chasm cornered instead of her. But with his claws, scales and superior strength—not to mention his threat to frame her—he clearly had the upper hand. And Terra wasn't stupid enough to turn her back to him long enough to flee.

"You're only making this worse for yourself," Chasm sneered, rubbing his bruised cheek with the back of a paw. "Maybe if you speak now, I'll let you go free. I'm feeling generous."

"I can't tell you what you want to hear," Terra argued hotly, the implications of his words slipping past her in the heat of the argument.

"Then I've got no other choice."

With a sadistic grin that made Terra certain he was enjoying this, Chasm charged her again, this time horns first. She stepped to the side just in time, her fluid footwork only just sparing her the pain of having her ribs crushed by his ram-like horns. Skidding around, Chasm charged back at her, but this time when she dodged, she managed to grab hold of his tail. Using his momentum against him, she guided his charge into the wall and the stonework cracked with the force with which he struck it. Rubble rained down on the dazed dragon as Terra backed away, tensed to run. Now was her chance.

But just as she turned to do so, a pillar of rock suddenly burst out of the ground in front of her, almost twice her width and height, causing her to fall backwards with a yelp. Scrambling onto hands and knees, she looked up frantically to find herself staring into Chasm's grinning face. Fear coursed through her veins.

"Game over," he hissed. But he never got the chance to strike.

Like a thunderbolt from the sky, a figure dropped to the ground between panther and dragon, straightening up with a spin that sent the pommel of his blade slamming into the side of Chasm's head. A strangled yelp rent the air as the green dragon crashed to his side and Terra found herself gazing at a rich brown cape—a very familiar cape. She recognised the back of his spotted head instantly, even before he turned to glance at her. The anger in his eyes was unmistakable, but Terra had a feeling that anger was not directed at her.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded and Terra's jaw tightened for a second time that day.

"I'm fine," she said stiffly, rising to her feet.

On the ground, Chasm groaned and clutched at his head, rolling back onto his belly. Hunter turned his gaze back to the dragon, just as Chasm opened his eyes and directed his glare at the cheetah. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself shakily to his feet.

"How dare you!" Chasm exclaimed furiously. "The guardians will hear about this!"

Hunter just stared coldly back. Somehow, the calm of his voice sounded that much more threatening. "Yes. They will."

Chasm faltered and sneered, realizing he was outmatched. Bitterly, he shouldered past the two cats, giving Terra a disgusted look as he went. Then, with his head held high, he limp down the alleyway and disappeared around the corner as quickly as he had first arrived. Terra stared after him for some time, her heart still hammering madly in her chest. But then Hunter's voice brought her back to reality.

"What were you thinking, going off on your own?" he exclaimed incredulously. Terra turned to face him, intending to tell him that she could take care of herself. But the words died on her lips when she saw the anger on his face—and something else that she couldn't place. Worry?

When she didn't respond, Hunter continued, "You know better than anyone how dangerous it is for you to walk the streets alone! Mari was frantic when she came to find me!"

Guilt wormed its way inside her again and Terra couldn't help but cringe. If there was anyone she regretted worrying, it was Mari. She had almost forgotten about the female cheetah in her mad rush after the white dragoness and her quick but exhilarating fight with Chasm.

"I'm sorry," she admitted moments later, looking suitably abashed. A spark of defiance still remained in her eyes, however. "I wasn't thinking."

"That much is obvious," Hunter growled, sheathing his sword with a violent movement that betrayed his frustration. Terra winced involuntarily.

"Is Mari all right?" she asked hesitantly, rubbing her upper arm abashedly. "I didn't mean to get separated from her, things just happened."

Hunter sighed and ran a paw through the short fur on the top of his head—a tired, subconscious movement that she had noticed seemed to be a habit of his. His anger seemed to have abated for now. "I shouldn't be surprised how many times things 'just happen.' Mari's fine. I left her with the guardians when I came to find you. You're lucky one of the moles saw you when you ran in here, otherwise I might not have gotten here in time."

"I could have handled him," the words slipped from her lips before she had a chance to think about what she was saying. Hunter glanced sharply at her, his eyes steely.

"I doubt that," he muttered. "From what little I saw of your fight, it seemed like you were afraid to hurt him. Seriously, at least."

Terra looked away and didn't respond, a little embarrassed by how much Chasm's threat to frame her had unsettled her. Hunter moved to her side, placing a paw on her shoulder to her surprise. She glanced up at him.

"Why _did_ you run off?" he asked almost accusingly, searching her face for answers. She grimaced.

"There was this dragon," she explained slowly, thinking about it and her own stupid reasons. She hated to tell Hunter about them.

"Other than Chasm?" he asked curiously. Terra nodded slowly.

"It was a female—still young. It's kind of stupid, but… I met her in the gardens and she ran from me. I wanted to know why, so I chased her. I shouldn't have. I didn't think. She was probably just afraid," Terra rubbed her forehead with a groan, wishing she hadn't relied so heavily on her impulses. Hunter, however, only seemed curious.

"What did she look like, this dragoness?"

"Oh…" Terra gestured with her hands as she tried to explain the appearance of the white dragoness. Chasm had called her Zephira, hadn't he? When she was finished, she saw the recognition on Hunter's face before he even spoke.

"It's…almost unfortunate that out of all the dragons in the city, you had to come across her," he mused. Terra cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Why's that?"

Hunter met her gaze grimly, "The dragoness you met is called Zephira. She is a friend of Spyro—the purple dragon—so I know her by association. During the attack your tribe stagged on this city, her brother was killed at the hands of a panther and she received the horrible injuries you saw. Her friends are no longer in the city—they've accompanied Spyro somewhere, so I've heard. I imagine she is a very lonely dragoness at the moment. A lonely dragoness with a grudge against panthers and a reason for it. It is unfortunate that you would have to meet her in this way."

"So that's what he meant…" Terra mumbled to herself, remembering Chasm's words. Her shoulders drooped despairingly and she shook her head. "It's wrong. It's so wrong what they have done. My tribe…"

She turned a helpless gaze on Hunter, "I wish I could undo everything they've done. I wish I could make things right again. And not just for her."

"That is…an honourable thing to wish for," Hunter patted her shoulder awkwardly, "but do not blame yourself for what they have done. Panther or not, you can't be blamed for the crimes of others. Come, we should return to Mari. She'll want to make sure you're all right."

Terra stared at him as he stepped past her and waited for her to follow him back out of the alleyway. She had never heard him say something like that before—not to her. Mari had time and time again, and even Chios, but Hunter had always struck her as the sort caught between wanting to blame her and wondering if that was the right thing to do. She would never have expected him to say that—to free her of guilt in his eyes. Warmth blossomed in her heart.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, trailing after him. Hunter glanced back at her.

"For what?"

"Trusting me. And…saving me." Terra smiled awkwardly, twisting her hands behind her back.

Hunter nodded once and turned away. But as he did, Terra thought she saw the ghost of a smile cross his features. If there was anything worth chasing a dragon into an alleyway and almost getting gutted by another, it was that. But Terra secretly hoped that there were less dangerous ways of earning a smile from Hunter.

**A/N: The original chapter was much longer than this, but it was terrible so I cut it into tiny pieces, rewrote it almost entirely, and in the process about 8000 words were sent to the fiery pits of hell. It's still not wonderful, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. The next chapter will not take as long as this one did...hopefully _no_ more waits between chapters will be this bad. **

**_Also, poll on my profile regarding this story. VOTE. If you haven't already, that is._**

**Again, super duper massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed. And I am so, so sorry for the wait.**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: I'm tired and should be in bed right now, but what the hey, you've waited long enough. I had a bit of trouble getting this chapter edited, and on that note I want to thank Feanor-the-Dragon and Torchie1 for replying to my plea for help and editing this chapter for me. You guys rock. :D Erm, not much to say here, I'm super tired and stuff.**

**Oh yeah, the poll is now closed and there was a clear winner... Sorry for anyone who would have preferred shorter chapters, but it seems like the majority of you (at least those who voted) enjoy the long ones. For now I'm trying to keep them at 10 000 words or under, for the sake of my own sanity, but I have no idea how long that's going to last...**

**Anyway, super thanks to my reviewers as usual! Please enjoy this chapter, everyone. :D**

**25.**

"…and then, just when we thought we were safe, just when we thought our night couldn't get any worse, out of the darkness there came—!"

"Gotcha!"

Arms fastened around Sparx's abdomen from behind and he cut himself off with a high-pitched squeal of terror. He wrenched himself out of the hold of whatever had grabbed him and flew screaming to hide behind a large mushroom, trembling. Peals of laughter filled the air and Sparx lifted his head timidly. A blue dragonfly was hovering where he had been moments ago, doubled over in a fit of giggles that was soon joined by the laughter of her two friends—Sparx's former audience. Blushing furiously, Sparx came out of hiding.

"Lulu!" he exclaimed indignantly. "What was that for?"

The female dragonfly wiped away her tears of laughter and met Sparx's indignant gaze, "S-Sorry, I couldn't help it! Y-You were just s-so intent on the story that I…"

She broke off into another fit of giggles, leaving Sparx looking very embarrassed. The other two dragonflies who had been listening to his ghost story were snickering behind their hands. Expelling a sigh, Sparx pouted and turned away.

"Well if that's how I'm going to be treated, maybe I just won't tell you stories anymore."

Lulu the blue dragonfly stifled her laughter, "Oh, don't do that, Sparx. We like your stories. It was just a bit of fun."

Sparx glanced slyly over his shoulder, "Oh yeah? Well it wasn't my idea of fun. Wanna know what _my_ idea of fun, is?"

Lulu opened her mouth to respond, but never got that far. In a flash, Sparx had spun around and grabbed her, tickling the base of her wings and grinning mischievously. The blue dragonfly squealed as she tried to get away, giggles escaping her again as she tried in vain to push him away.

"_This_ is fun!" he exclaimed, before emitting an obviously forced evil laugh that had the other two dragonflies rolling their eyes. Lulu broke out of his hold, still laughing, and zipped away towards a low hillock, Sparx in tow.

A bronze-scaled dragon lay warming his scales in the midday sun on that very hillock and his ruby eyes cracked open when the two dragonflies shot past, laughing. Yawning, he raised his head, "Stop messing around. Can't a dragon sunbake in peace?"

Sparx hovered to a halt and turned back, "You spend too much time sleeping there, anyway! Keep it up and you'll get fat like Spyro."

"Better than being a twig like you," Nadi grunted, resting his head on his paws again.

Lulu hovered back to Sparx and whispered something in his ear, earning a grin from him. Holding a finger to his lips, he flew silently into a nearby bush and returned with a sharp twig in one hand. Winking at Lulu, Sparx flew back to the dozing Nadi as quietly as he could, sneaking around behind him. The bronze dragon cracked an eye open.

"You've gone quiet," he muttered. "What's going o—OW! Hey!"

Jumping up, Nadi whirled around to glare at Sparx. The dragonfly was now laughing uproariously, the sharp twig—with which he had just stabbed Nadi's flank—still clutched in his hand. The bronze dragon's eyebrow twitched with irritation, although it had hardly hurt worse than a tiny bug bite.

"What's the big idea?"

"F-Fight me, you foul beast!" Sparx stammered between guffaws, waving his twig around like a tiny sword. "I am the mighty Sparx, slayer of dragons!"

"And I am the mighty dragon-who-has-to-deal-with-annoying-pests, eater of dragonflies!" With a wry grin, Nadi pounced on Sparx and flattened him to the ground between his forepaws. The dragonfly squealed and threw his hands up to protect his face, sending his sword-twig flying. Chancing a peek, he cracked an eye open and beheld a set of sharp, grinning fangs. Sparx screamed again and covered his eyes.

"Oh no, don't eat him!" Lulu squealed, flying forwards with a hand outstretched. "He won't taste very good, honestly!"

"Lulu!" Sparx protested between clenched teeth. "I'm the mighty warrior, not you! I should be saving you!"

The blue dragonfly put her hands on her hips, her unusually long antennae swaying behind her back, "Well, you don't look like you're in much of a position to be saving anyone, _mighty_ warrior."

Nadi rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Lulu instead, "All right, then maybe I should eat you instead!"

He made to pounce on the female dragonfly, but she darted away with a scream and a laugh, calling over her shoulder, "On second thoughts, you can eat him! I'm sure he'd taste fine!"

"Lulu! Hey!" Sparx struggled under the paws of his captor, pummelling tiny fists against bronze scales. "Let me up!"

Nadi grinned down at him, "Only if you promise to stop being a pest."

Sparx stroked his chin thoughtfully, as though imagining a substantial beard like the one the old Chronicler had sported. Then he stuck his tongue out at Nadi and announced, "No deal."

Nadi shrugged, "Eating it is, then."

And without another word he opened his mouth wide and lowered his head. Sparx squealed and covered his face, a dramatic howl of 'I'm too young to die!' leaving his lips. But then Nadi stopped, his teeth inches from Sparx's abdomen, and the yellow dragonfly heard Lulu's voice from somewhere above.

"I've got him, Sparx! Get away while you can!" from the sound of her voice, Sparx could tell she was barely holding back her laughter.

Grimacing, Sparx pounded at Nadi's talons for what felt like the hundredth time and finally felt them shift, releasing his tiny body. With a whoop, he hovered back up to the dragon's eye-level and saw Lulu clinging to one of his horns, putting on a great show of trying to hold him back. Nadi was barely concealing his smirk.

"Fiend!" he cried to the blue dragonfly. "Let me go!"

"Never!" she called, eyes squeezed shut. "Not until you release your prisoner!"

Sparx tapped her shoulder, "Uh, Lulu, I'm right here."

"Oh." She released Nadi's horn, grinning sheepishly as she hid her hands behind her back. The other two dragonflies rolled their eyes for the umpteenth time that day and flew off, bored.

"How come _I_ was the damselfly in distress?" Sparx protested minutes later when all three of them were lounging about at the crest of the hillock. Nadi passed the disgruntled dragonfly a grin.

"It just suits your personality so well…"

"Hey!"

Lulu giggled behind her hands, "But Nadi wouldn't really eat you, would you, Nadi?"

"Maybe if he annoyed me enough. But then he might get stuck in my teeth."

"Yeah, that's right," Sparx prodded Nadi's snout. "You eat me and I'll keep on annoying you long after I'm eaten! Oh, and Spyro would probably torch you, too."

"Wouldn't want to mess with the purple dragon. Or his mighty brother."

"Now you're catching on." Sparx yawned and stretched his arms over his head, leaning back to rest against one of Nadi's horns. Lulu settled down on the dragon's head beside him.

"You know, you're not so bad, Nadi," the yellow dragonfly admitted after several seconds of silence. "You're nothing like when we first met you! Heck, I thought you were gonna be as shy as Zephira!"

"Who?" Nadi asked curiously.

"Oh," Sparx waved a hand, though Nadi couldn't see it, "just a dragoness we know back at Warfang. She's really shy. Like, really. You were acting kinda like her when we first met you. What gives?"

Nadi smiled vaguely and shrugged, "I'm just not used to meeting new dragons. Kinda makes me nervous, you know? I guess it takes me a while to warm up to others."

"Just wait till you get to Warfang. There's _hundreds_ of dragons there. But I'm sure you'll fit right in. You know, scales, claws, weird bat wings—you're all dragons, right?" Sparx casually slung an arm over Lulu's shoulders and her cheeks turned pink. It was a few moments before Nadi replied, and when he did it was only a single word.

"Yeah."

Silence descended upon them like a heavy blanket, not entirely comfortable, but not awkward either. Sparx grinned inwardly when Lulu didn't shrug his arm away and instead snuggled subtly closer. The midday sun crept through the canopy and warmed his wings. He closed his eyes. Then the distant beating of wings interrupted the serenity and he opened them again. Through the gaps in the canopy, he could only see blue sky.

"Hey, uh…did you guys hear that?" Sparx asked uncertainly, sitting up slowly. Lulu glanced at him and Nadi shifted under them.

"Hear what?" dragon and dragonfly asked at the same time. Sparx shushed them and listened hard. The distant beating of wings continued, growing closer with every passing second. His eyes narrowed.

"How about now?"

"Wings," Nadi muttered, raising his head slowly as to not jostle the two dragonflies perched in front of his horns. Lulu looked up towards the sky.

"I hear it too," she said.

Removing his arm from her shoulders, Sparx hovered up and looked towards the sound. Glancing towards him, Nadi noticed the uncertain hope on the dragonfly's face. Sparx shielded his eyes from the sun's glare with a hand, but the other remained clenched tensely at his side.

"That had better be who I think it is," he said as the wing beats grew closer. Nadi didn't need to ask to know who the dragonfly was thinking of—he hoped it was, too.

"Wanna check?" the wind dragon suggested with a wry grin. Sparx glanced back at him.

"As long as it's not something horrible." He grimaced. "It's _always_ something horrible, isn't it?"

Nevertheless, Sparx nodded and flew up towards the canopy, leaving a nervous Lulu waiting below. Nadi leapt after him, beating his wings strongly to take him up and above the canopy of mushroom trees. Within minutes, both dragon and dragonfly had broken above the tops of the trees into the open skies. They twisted around to see where the noise was coming from and a grin split Sparx's face when he saw them—a whole gang of dragons. Very familiar dragons.

"Woo! Spyro!" he yelled to the purple dragon out in front, pumping a fist in the air. "'Bout time!"

Nadi just smiled.

* * *

Orpheus squinted along the length of his sword-staff and the new glittering green gem embedded into it. It had taken him a while—a few days in fact—to modify his staff for the spirit gem to fit. But now, at last, he was happy with it. Now all that was left was to test it. Digging one sword-tip into the ground, Orpheus used the staff as leverage to pull himself to his feet and hefted the weapon in his paws.

"Finally finished it, huh?" said a drawling voice, and the young panther spun around to find his brother sitting lazily on the ground, back rested against a large rock. Erebos grinned almost tauntingly, deep purple eyes glimmering. "Why didn't you just pick one of the other weapons? Why waste all that time just to modify your staff?"

"It wasn't a waste," Orpheus replied defensively, his paw tightening around the staff. "There were no weapons like my sword-staff and I wasn't about to just replace it. I've had this weapon for four years now. It just feels…right."

Erebos shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing with a paw lazily, "Suit yourself. So, know how to use it?"

The younger panther hesitated, gazing down at his modified weapon warily, "Well…not really. But I'll learn."

"Better learn fast," Erebos warned with a wry smirk. "It's only a matter of days before we march against Warfang again. Don't want to be stuck with a weapon you can't use, now do you?"

Orpheus scowled and turned away from his brother, bristling with annoyance. He suddenly found himself determined to prove to Erebos that he could handle his new sword-staff and handle it well. Gripping the staff in one paw, he took a step forward and cut through the air, as though slicing through an imaginary foe. He focused all his attention on the green spirit gem and almost dropped the staff when he felt a powerful force rush through his paws.

A jagged crevice of rock opened up in front of him, slicing through the tall grass, stalagmites shooting upwards from the previously soft earth. Orpheus cried out in shock and stepped backwards, but the damage was done. Not far in front, almost hidden in the darkness of dusk, a panther cried out in alarm and barely dodged the spikes of stone that thrust out of the earth. Scrambling to his feet, he turned furious eyes on Orpheus.

"Watch where you're aiming, you idiot!" he yelled furiously and Orpheus opened his mouth to call an apology. But Erebos placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"You're not seriously going to apologise, are you?" the taller panther grunted, as though he had read his younger brother's thoughts. "It's his fault for getting in your way."

Frowning, Orpheus opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off again by another voice. The friend of the panther that had almost been injured by the earth strike had suddenly appeared on the scene.

"Are you crazy?" he hissed to his angry friend, grabbing him by the shoulder. "That's one of the Elite Guard! You can't go mouthing off to one of them!"

The other panther faltered, fear briefly flickering across his eyes, "Oh…crap. I didn't notice."

His friend snorted and pulled him away, "Come on, idiot." Glancing over his shoulder, he called an apology to Orpheus and Erebos and moved on. Orpheus stared after them, feeling suddenly worse than before. Shouldn't he have been the one apologising? He was the one who had grown careless with his weapon and almost injured a fellow panther. It was his fault, not…

"The Elite Guard _don't_ apologise," Erebos muttered, slapping him on the shoulder companionably. "Remember, you're always in the right, no matter what."

"But that isn't right," Orpheus argued, frowning as he turned around and brushed his brother's paw off his shoulder. "It was my fault. He had every right to be there, I was the one who got careless. Why should we be treated with special privileges just because we're from the Elite Guard?"

"Because everyone's scared of us," Erebos explained, in a voice that suggested Orpheus should have already known that. "No one wants to argue with an Elite Guard and no one's stupid enough to do so."

"But _why_?" Orpheus insisted. "Why should they fear us? We're no different from the other warriors…are we?"

"Earth to Orpheus," Erebos waved his paw in front of his brother's face, only succeeding in irritating him. "Did you forget what it means to be an Elite Guard? It's their _job_ to fear us. We're _meant_ to be feared. We're fast, we're strong, we're emotionless, we're _deadly,_ and damn are we good at what we do! Did you forget what they call us? The _assassins_?"

"But…!"

"No buts!" Erebos grabbed his brother's shoulders, his eyes suddenly dangerously steely. "If you weren't my brother, I'd have beaten some sense into you ages ago. _We are Elite Guard_ and _you_ need to start acting like it. Stop playing the nice guy and get it into that thick skull of yours that we're meant—to—be—_feared_! You might have the physical skill needed to be one of us, Orpheus, but that's going to mean nothing if you don't have the _mind_ of an assassin."

He tapped Orpheus's head sharply and released him, dark eyes flashing. "Remember that. It might just save your hide one day."

Without another word, Erebos turned and strode away from his stunned brother, where he was soon welcomed into a group of panthers chatting around a campfire. After a moment in which he just stood in silence and took in his brother's words, Orpheus scowled and turned away, muttering under his breath. He found a seat on a relatively flat rock and sat for a few minutes, glaring out over the grasslands, his sword-staff across his lap. The sound of laughter from the panthers around the campfire disturbed his silence and suddenly he felt horribly alone.

Sighing, the young panther slipped off his seat and rose to his feet, walking away and hoping to block out the sound of his brother and his friends. He knew it was envy that was eating away at his innards, but there was something else there too. It took a moment for him to place what it was. Uncertainty. It churned his stomach and made him restless.

Striding through the grasslands, Orpheus couldn't help but notice that the other panthers purposefully looked away whenever he drew near. Some of them glanced at him with interest, until they recognised him and looked away. It was painfully clear that no one wanted to talk with him. They didn't even seem to want his company, and that sent a bitter pang through his chest. Eventually, his steps took him away from where most of the panthers lingered and towards the makeshift Dreadwing nests. He could see Skulk and Skelos sitting together with one of the Dreadwings, no doubt discussing plans in the waning light.

With a sigh, Orpheus sat down on a shallow rock and rested his chin in his paws. Life sure was lonely for an Elite Guard, he mused. Or maybe that was just him.

"Orpheus?"

The young panther looked up sharply at the welcome sound of a voice calling his name. At first he thought no one was there and his eyes raked the grasslands for the sight of whoever had called him. Then his gaze settled on a lone panther sitting not far away on a cropping of stone, a small campfire at his feet. Silt waved him over wordlessly and Orpheus didn't argue.

When Orpheus had settled down on a rock opposite his fellow Elite, Silt spoke up.

"You seemed like you had something bothering you."

Orpheus uttered a short sigh and rested his cheek on his hand, "What gave it away?"

Silt raised an eyebrow, looking up from his sword, which he had been polishing with a rag. "I'm not a fool, Orpheus."

The young panther averted his eyes and silence reigned for several moments, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Orpheus found himself wishing bitterly for a distraction, but none came. At length, it was Silt who broke the silence.

"An assassin can't afford to allow himself to be bothered by anything, let alone remain as such for any length of time."

That did little to lift Orpheus's mood. In fact, it seemed to make it worse. His voice was heavy with bitter sarcasm when he spoke. "Because we're supposed to be _feared_, right?"

Silt looked up from his sword again, an almost-amused twinkle in his orange eyes, "Did Rebus tell you that?"

Orpheus's silence was answer enough. The older Elite set his sword aside and leaned forward, closer to the flames and Orpheus on the other side of them. The firelight reflected in the alarming hue of his irises made them look like they were on fire themselves.

"Do you know why the masters chose you to become one of the Elite Guard?"

Orpheus shrugged reluctantly, frowning, "Because…they thought I was a good fighter."

Silt nodded, "They were impressed with your physical skills, yes. But they would not have given you this opportunity if they did not believe you capable of adopting the state of mind of an Elite."

"Which is…?"

Silt smirked and sat back, "Your brother was partly right when he said that the Elite Guard is meant to be feared. As Elites we demand respect. And how better to gain that than by making a name for yourself? A name feared by those lower than you, weaker than you. We are the best of the best and it is our job to ensure the common warriors are aware of that. As such, many of them fear us, and so they show us respect."

"But I don't _want_ to be feared," Orpheus insisted, sounding strained. "I miss having friends, I miss feeling like I fit in. …I miss not being looked at like I'm some sort of outsider."

Silt's eyes were stern, but largely emotionless, "You are an Elite, Orpheus. And Elites trust no one but themselves and their fellow Elites. We do not have time for trifles such as friends. Friends make us weak_,_ and we cannot afford to be weak."

"But what about Erebos?!" Orpheus exclaimed, a sudden envious anger rising from within. "He's always joking with those stupid friends of his! What makes him an exception to that rule?!"

The ghost of a smile tweaked Silt's mouth, "Rebus is…an interesting case. He is a smart panther, smarter than most. He knows that the strongest weapons one can have are allies that are willing to _die_ for you. He commands respect both with fear and by being _likable_. He makes sure they know he is the strongest and therefore the one they should be allied with. Rebus gives those panthers the illusion of friendship and in turn they go out of their way to show respect to him. In doing so, they prove that they are willing to die for him. But the loyalty he shows to them is a ruse. They are his pawns, his willing shields. They are not friends. Not of the sort you know."

Orpheus slumped slightly with a snort, glaring into the dancing flames. "I always knew he was a jerk. What about the other Elites?"

Silt glanced away from the fire shortly and Orpheus followed his gaze to a lone panther sitting cross-legged on a flat stone. His sword was laid out beside him and his eyes were closed. None dared to approach.

"Agra is the oldest of the Elites and therefore the most experienced," Silt explained softly. "He knows how to detach himself from the world, to discard emotions when he must. He is respected for his age and his skill, and no one dares to dispute that. But he is a loner, as most Elites are, and rarely speaks to anyone unless the situation demands it. Agra is what all Elites should strive to become. He is the perfect assassin, in mind as well as body."

"Steel and Nyx are…slightly different," Silt frowned, and for a moment Orpheus even thought he looked disturbed. But seconds later it was gone and he passed it off as a trick of the firelight. "They find company in each other and are closer than any Elite I have seen before. Unlike Agra, they do not detach themselves from the world or discard emotions. Instead, they derive enjoyment from being feared and doing their duty as assassins. They live for the kill and find nothing more satisfying than to be feared by all those they consider below them. The common warriors are wise to avoid them."

Orpheus grimaced at those words, feeling strangely sickened by the thought of enjoying the kill. Although in the heat of battle he often found himself caught up in the fight and had killed before, there was still a part of him that felt guilty and disgusted by the blood on his hands. The aftermath of battle was always the worst. A part of him envied Agra for his ability to switch off his emotions.

After another moment of silence, Orpheus leant forward and stared into Silt's fiery eyes. "And…what about you?"

Silt met his eyes with a steely gaze, "I know what it means to be an Elite. I know that I cannot afford to be weakened by friendship, I know I can trust no one but myself, and I know I cannot afford to doubt myself. No Elite can. And that includes you, Orpheus. Second thoughts have no place in the mind of an assassin. You need to accept that."

"The masters chose you for your physical skill. Now you need to prove to them that you have the mental ability to be an assassin, too. Otherwise, you will only make life harder for yourself."

With those final words, Silt returned to polishing his blade and left Orpheus to absorb his words in silence. The young panther stared into the spitting flames, feeling worse than ever before. Though a part of him had always known what it was like to be an Elite, it was only now that he was starting to understand what it meant. And it caused a cold feeling of dread and uncertainty somewhere deep inside that he could not shift.

What if he _couldn't _adopt the mind of an assassin?

What if he didn't _want_ to be an Elite?

* * *

Spyro's tale didn't take long to tell, though Sparx suspected that was because he hadn't told them the whole story. In fact, Sparx felt like there were some very large gaps—some very important details—that his brother was neglecting to mention. All he'd managed to gather from Spyro's retelling were two facts: they weren't going back to Warfang, and they were going to find some freaky goat-people who could help. Help with what? He wondered if Spyro had misheard, and the spooky moon dragon had actually meant 'llama-people'. Though what help the citizens of Tall Plains could offer was beyond him.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling us something?" Sparx asked suspiciously, jabbing a finger at Spyro's snout. Behind him, his parents exchanged nervous glances as though worried their two sons were about to start an argument.

Spyro stared innocently into Sparx's accusing eyes, "I've told you everything you need to know, Sparx. Why would I keep secrets from you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Sparx retorted, crossing his arms and looking miffed. Spyro sighed.

"Look, we can talk about the small details later," he said, eyes roving inconspicuously over his worried dragonfly parents and the curious-eyed Nadi. "But right now we should get going. We've got a long way to go and not much time to get there. It's best if we leave immediately."

"So soon?!" Nina exclaimed, flying forwards. Spyro cringed at the unmistakable disappointment on her face. "But you've had such a long flight! Surely you can spare a night to rest here?"

Spyro glanced towards his friends, and Cynder inclined her head hesitantly, "It wouldn't hurt, Spyro."

But, biting his lip, the purple dragon shook his head, "I wish we could, but…I'm worried. The sooner we move out, the sooner we get there."

'_And the sooner we can get back to Warfang and help the others…'_

"I don't like it," Flash admitted, hovering to Nina's side and looking over the dragons with a stern eye. "But if Spyro thinks it is the right thing to do, we can't hold you back. He is not the child who left this swamp four years ago."

The last part of his speech was directed at Nina. She twisted her hands anxiously and for the first time Spyro saw something in her that he had never seen before—the reluctance of a mother to let her child go. It was a bittersweet warmth that bloomed in his heart in that moment.

"But he is still _my_ child," she whispered gently. "They both are. And I will still worry about them."

"Don't worry, Mum," Sparx said lazily, slinging an arm around her frail shoulders, "I'll take care of chunky here. You've got nothing to worry about as long as I'm around."

"Cocky as usual," Cynder smirked. She stood up and inclined her head respectfully towards the elder dragonflies. "Don't worry, Mrs. Nina, we'll take care of your sons. Both of them. And I'm sure Sparx will keep us _all_ out of trouble…"

She turned a malicious smile on the yellow dragonfly, who didn't miss the undertone of sarcasm in her voice. He pulled a face in return and Cynder's grin only widened.

"W-Wait a minute," a voice stammered and all eyes turned on Nadi. The bronze dragon looked from the dragonflies to Cynder and finally settled on Spyro, incredulity written across his face. "You mean you're not going back to the Dragon City?"

Silence reigned, but only for a moment.

"That's…what we've been saying," Spyro said uncertainly, eying Nadi carefully. He didn't just look incredulous, he looked worried. Before he had a chance to enquire, though, Kazan beat him to it.

"Come to think of it, why are _you_ still here anyway?" the crimson dragon asked suspiciously.

For a moment, Nadi seemed taken aback. His eyes flicked to Sparx, perhaps searching for support, but the dragonfly didn't react. Throat bobbing nervously, the bronze dragon spoke in a halting voice, "I was…waiting for you. All of you. I thought…"

He trailed off nervously, head swinging to and fro from the distrusting eyes of Kazan to the curious and somewhat bemused eyes of Spyro. "I wanted to go back to Warfang with you."

"Why?" Kazan shot back without missing a beat, before anyone else had a chance to even open their mouths. Nadi hesitated, thrown off, and Kazan continued. "Why not just go back yourself? Why wait for us?"

"Um…"

"Ooh! Ooh! I know this one!" Sparx interrupted eagerly, waving a hand in the air. The dragons turned surprised gazes on him, and he folded his arms with a knowing smirk on his face.

"This guy," Sparx said, flying over to Nadi and pointing a tiny finger at his muzzle, "is a scaredy-dragon."

"Sparx!" Nina hissed disapprovingly.

"What?! He is! He told me himself he was too scared to go back to Warfang because of the big mean dragons. Go on, Nadi, tell 'em!"

"Is he telling the truth?" Spyro asked, ignoring Sparx's indignant huff.

"Sparx is known for exaggerating and making things up," Cynder added, rolling her eyes.

"I do _not_ make things up! Or exaggerate! …Maybe a little."

Nadi shook his head with a half-hearted smile, "Even if he does, he's telling the truth this time. I'm…not comfortable around large crowds, especially strangers. I just…didn't want to go there alone."

Cynder's expression softened and she nodded slowly, "I can understand that, but I'm afraid we're not going back to Warfang now. I'm sorry we can't help after making you wait for so long. ...Spyro?"

The purple dragon shook his head, "We can't afford even the slightest detour back to Warfang. I'm sorry about this. You're just going to have to make your way there yourself or stay here until we return. I…I'm not sure when we'll come back, though…"

'_Or even if.' _

Nadi's shoulders drooped, but the look in his eyes made Spyro wonder if he had been expecting such an answer. "I understand. I am sorry for causing you trouble."

"No, no, it's no trouble," Spyro said quickly, looking embarrassed. "If anything, it's our fault for not returning sooner."

"I wish we could help you," Cynder insisted, eying him with an apologetic expression dusted with pity. "Really."

"Well maybe we _can_!" a voice behind them insisted, and they turned just as Saffron pushed her way between Spyro and Cynder to face Nadi. His crimson eyes met hers for a few moments, and in that instant it seemed as though Saffron was trying to read him—to figure him out. Then her gaze switched abruptly to Spyro.

"What?" Spyro stammered, bemused.

"He could come with us," was Saffron's decisive response.

"What?!" yelped four voices in varying levels of surprise. Nadi had never sounded more shocked. Spyro and Cynder just seemed bemused. Kazan sounded furious.

Everyone else remained silent and for several heartbeats it remained that way, with only the sound of the wind whistling through the canopy to break their thoughts. At length, Saffron snorted and sat back on her haunches, looking Nadi over.

"Well, why not?" she asked. "He saved my life, he helped us fight off those Death Hounds, heck, he's a _wind_ dragon. He can help us. And don't you need someone to teach you the wind element, Spyro? Now that Zephira is…"

She trailed off uncomfortably before shaking her head roughly, "Anyway, my point is that he could be a valuable ally. Why send him back to Warfang when he could come along with us! We need all the help we can get, right?"

Spyro opened his mouth to respond, but Kazan shouldered him aside looking irritable.

"We don't even know who he is!" the fire dragon growled, locking eyes with Saffron, who curled her lip in response. "How are we supposed to know he's trustworthy? You know how important our mission is! Taking him along will only jeopardise it!"

"He's a dragon!" Saffron argued hotly, surging to her feet. Both seemed to have forgotten that the very dragon in question was standing right beside them. "What's not to trust?"

"Malefor was a dragon too!"

A tense silence filled the clearing, preceded by Saffron's sharp intake of breath. Nadi stared at the arguing dragons in amazement, eyes wide. Beside him, Sparx was a picture of shock, mouth hanging open and one hand raised as though he had been about to make a point. Suddenly, Cynder shouldered Saffron aside and glared into Kazan's defiant eyes.

"That's going too far!" the black dragoness snarled, looking livid. "How _dare_ you compare him—how dare you compare _anyone_ to that…that monster! We may know nothing about him, but that gives you _no_ excuse to accuse him of being like that _demon_! Malefor was a _curse_ upon this world. Even…even the panthers are not as terrible as he was! I do not care who it is, I do not care for what reason, but if I _ever_ hear you compare someone else to that monstrosity again, I will personally see to it that you never speak his name again!"

Kazan wilted under her furious gaze, all of the defiant anger suddenly gone from his face. "I…I…"

"Understand?" Cynder hissed with all the venom of a deadly serpent. Kazan nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak. The others stared in shock, until Spyro stepped forward and gently nudged Cynder away.

"He's learnt his lesson now," the purple dragon murmured soothingly so that only she could hear. "It's okay…"

Cynder snorted, a tendril of shadow curling from her nostrils, and tore up a clump of swampy earth with her talons. But she nodded, regardless of her anger, and looked pointedly away from the trembling dragon. It was some time before anyone else found their voices again.

"So…I…what I was trying to say is…" Kazan faltered and trailed off, his thread lost. He looked severely shaken, and Saffron noticed this with a twinge of satisfaction.

"Listen," Nadi interrupted suddenly, and everyone jumped at the sound of his voice, "I may not know any of you—I don't know where you're going, what you're doing or why—but if you think there's any way I can help, just tell me. I'd be glad to help, if you will let me. There isn't really anywhere else I can go. Only the Dragon City…"

Spyro sighed and exchanged a look with the still irritable Cynder, searching for her opinion. But she just shook her head, at as much of a loss as he was. Uncertain purple eyes turned on the bronze dragon. "Nadi…"

Saffron stood up abruptly and moved a few paces away, beckoning for Spyro to follow. The purple dragon seemed to realise he didn't have much of a choice and moved silently to her side. Nadi watched them curiously, wishing he knew what they were whispering about.

"You heard what Ignitus said," Saffron whispered, her head close to Spyro's, "the more allies we have, the better. And not only could he be helpful to us, but it wouldn't be fair to send him back to Warfang now! Maybe you don't realise, but that would mean sending a lone dragon to a city he knows nothing about, full of dragons who know nothing about him, _in the middle of a war_."

"I know," Spyro murmured back, shooting a glance over his shoulder, "but Kazan makes a fair point, even though he went a bit overboard. How do we know we can trust him?"

"Has he given us reason not to? Spyro, look at him! Listen to him! Doesn't he remind you of someone?" Her violet eyes were wide, staring into his almost pleadingly—begging him to see the similarities she had seen. Spyro chanced another glance behind him and saw Nadi look quickly away, as though embarrassed to be caught staring.

"You're thinking of Zephira, aren't you?" Spyro mumbled. Saffron nodded sharply.

"Just…the way he speaks, the way he moves, even. He's too shy even to go to Warfang by himself! He might not _be_ Zephira, but I know his sort when I see it. We can trust him, I'm sure of it."

"Why, though? Why are you so eager to trust him?"

"I still owe him, you know," Saffron smiled almost apologetically. "I just want a chance to repay him. Why not just give him a chance?"

Spyro bit his lip, his face a mask of deep thought. In truth, unlike Kazan, he was not searching for a reason to distrust Nadi—he'd much rather have a reason to trust him. And already—Spyro realised—he had those reasons. It might not have been enough to award him complete trust, but it was a start. With a tight smile, Spyro nodded. Saffron's face broke into a grin.

"Nadi," the purple dragon announced, striding back to the wind dragon, "we've come to a decision."

"You have?" Cynder and Kazan asked at the same time, both surprised and somewhat distrusting. Spyro offered them an apologetic smile.

"If you want to come with us, we could use your help," he said, and quickly continued before Kazan's protests could interrupt him. "But these are dangerous times and it pays to be cautious. I'm sorry if this seems a bit over the top, but until you have earned it, I can't give you my complete trust. That's why I want someone with you at all times, at least until you have proven we can trust you."

Even Saffron seemed surprised.

"Is that…fair?" she asked hesitantly, only to be drowned out by Kazan's angry words.

"I can't believe you're going along with her! Trusting a complete stranger is stupid, especially given what the Chronicler wants us to do! Saffron only wants him to come because she thinks he can replace Zephira!"

"I do not!" Saffron argued indignantly, her voice reaching an unnaturally high pitch. Kazan whirled on her.

"Prove it, then! You said yourself that you want to go back to Warfang to get Zephira, but now that you know we can't, you decided to replace her with this guy instead! Well, he might be a wind dragon, but he's _not_ Zephira, and you sure as heck shouldn't trust him so easily!"

"This has nothing to do with Zephira! How dare you accuse me of wanting to replace her? I only want what is best for all of us!"

"That's enough!" Cynder snapped, forcing herself between the two angry dragons before their argument could escalate. "No one wants to replace anyone. Kazan, I expect better of you—you shouldn't accuse your friends of such things. And Saffron, you need to stop letting him get under your scales! But you shouldn't hand out your trust so easily, either."

Saffron bristled with indignation, but chose not to say anything. Kazan just made a face at her behind Cynder's back and she replied by childishly sticking out her tongue. Sparx snickered at the looks on their faces, but quickly stuffed his fist in his mouth when they both turned to glare at him. Cynder, meanwhile, had turned her attention to Spyro.

"So…you think he should come along?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow and glancing from him to Nadi. The bronze dragon shifted nervously.

"Saffron made a good point," Spyro shrugged, smiling at Nadi. "The more allies we have, the better our chances; just like the Chronicler said. We should at least give him a chance to earn our trust."

"Seems like he already has Saffron's," Cynder whispered close to his head, her eyes flicking over to the yellow dragoness, who was still trading ridiculous faces with Kazan. Sparx was hovering about them, tittering to himself. Spyro just shrugged.

"Alright," Cynder announced, straightening up and looking Nadi in the eye, "looks like you're coming along with us. Unless, of course, you'd rather go to Warfang on your own."

"No, no!" Nadi insisted quickly, his cheeks tinged red. "I-I'll come with you. Thank you for giving me the chance. I'll do whatever I can to help."

Cynder looked him over with a scrutinising gaze, "Good. But I would advise against giving any of us a reason to mistrust you. We are most certainly not helpless."

"Was that a threat?" Sparx hissed to Saffron, loud enough for everyone in the clearing to hear.

Cynder rolled her eyes. "It was a warning. And I am sure he will heed it. Won't you?"

Nadi nodded quickly. Behind the others, Flame leaned over to Ember and muttered in her ear, "He seems almost _too_ genuine."

"It's called being polite," Ember shot back, slapping his flank with her tailblade, "something I'm sure _you_ wouldn't understand."

"I can be polite! ...When I want to."

"Shame you never want to, then, isn't it?"

"So, we've picked up another lost puppy," Zannak said, grinning. "'The more the merrier,' so they say. What do you think?"

He nudged Roku companionably, but the black dragon merely stared ahead impassively. "It is an interesting development. Perhaps things will be livelier with him along."

"Anything's livelier than you," Zannak dead-panned, standing up without another word and plodding over to his sister. He didn't hear Roku's sigh.

"So, time to get going?" Sparx suggested, looking eager for once in his life. Spyro seemed surprised.

"That's unlike you."

"Yeah, usually you complain about leaving," Cynder added, eyes twinkling mischievously. Sparx folded his arms over his chest and glared.

"You try spending a week with fangirls, then we'll talk."

Amidst the peals of laughter from Saffron and Cynder, and the chuckles of Spyro, Flash and Nina flew forwards with something hanging between them, clutched tightly in their tiny hands. Curious, Spyro stopped laughing at the look on Sparx's face and craned his neck to see what his foster parents had brought him. Upon close inspection he realised it was a bag, woven from tough swamp reeds and strips of bark. It was about twice as big as one of his paws.

"The whole village chipped in to make this for you," Nina told him as she and Flash laid the bag down between Spyro's forepaws. Their shoulders visibly drooped with relief as they dropped the weight. "A thank you for saving us from those dreadful hounds."

"Wow, Mum…I don't know what to say." Spyro examined the bag at his feet curiously, wondering how such tiny creatures could have woven a bag over twice their size. He decided not to ask. "Thank you."

"We just hope you like it," Nina smiled, stroking his snout gently.

"And I'm sorry we can't do anything more for you," Flash added, resting an arm around Nina's thin shoulders. But Spyro shook his head.

"You're my family. You have loved me and cared for me even though I wasn't truly your own." His eyes shone with gratitude as he smiled down at the dragonfly pair. "That's more than enough."

Without another word, the two dragonflies flew forward and embraced their adopted son as best they could, hugging his snout with all their might. When they parted, Spyro was blinking furiously and wondering why his eyes felt so wet. Cynder looked on almost longingly, but Sparx was making disgusted faces behind her back.

"All right, all right, enough with the sappiness," he insisted, waving his tiny arms. "Geez, Mum, Dad…"

Without warning, Nina darted forward and embraced him, ignoring Sparx's protests as he was crushed against her chest. "Be strong, my brave boy, and take care of your brother. We love you both, very, very much."

"Mum…can't…breathe…"

Sparx inhaled dramatically when his mother finally let him go to wipe her streaming eyes. Massaging his ribs, he smiled sheepishly and said, "Don't worry, Mum, I'll bring him back home. Promise."

"Stay true to yourself, Son," Flash said, placing a hand on Sparx's shoulder. "We are proud of you."

A grateful smile found its way onto Sparx's face until Cynder hissed in his ear, "Who's being sappy now?"

"We put your little crystal in Spyro's bag," Nina interrupted suddenly in the middle of Sparx's retort. The yellow dragonfly looked up in surprise.

"Crystal? Oh, the one the fireflies gave us?"

"What?" Spyro asked, suddenly interested, but Sparx waved him away.

"Tell you later."

"Let's go then, come on!" Zannak interrupted, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning from ear to ear. Saffron extended a wing over his back in a feeble attempt to hold him still.

"How old are you again?" she muttered.

"They are a very lively bunch…" Nadi mumbled, more to himself than anyone. But Roku, who had just moved forwards to welcome the bronze dragon, heard him.

"They always are."

* * *

Days after Terra's untoward meeting with Zephira and Chasm, the panthers had still yet to make their move. Hunter had become less strict with them since the incident, and Terra wondered if—somehow—her unwillingness to fight Chasm had earned her his trust. Regardless of the reason, her newfound acceptance into the lives of the cheetahs made the burden on her shoulders feel that much lighter. However, in turn, that made the coming battle seem all the more threatening.

Now she felt like she had something more to lose.

One evening, Terra was sitting at her usual place by the window sill, engaging in still slightly-awkward conversation with Hunter, when Mari threw open the door and made them all jump. Cougar, who had been dozing beside the door, jumped to his feet and promptly tripped over his own paws, landing sprawled on the wooden floor with a quiet curse. Hunter's paw inched towards the sword at his hip, but Mari waved him down and shut the door in a more sedated manner.

"Oops," she said, grinning sheepishly as she looked at her downed cousin, "guess that was a bit much."

"Care to tell us why you came barging through the door like a hoard of grublins was on your tail?" Cougar grumbled, pushing himself back into a sitting position and nursing a wounded pride. Hunter and Terra relaxed now that it was apparent there was no immediate threat.

"I was just talking with Chios, and she gave me this," Mari said, holding up a rectangular-ish package in her paws. Closer inspection proved it was a rather tattered-looking wooden box, almost square but not quite, and about as long as her forearm. It was about as tall as the span of a large cheetah's hand, and the corners were chipped and rounded.

"What exactly _is_ it?" Terra asked, sitting up straighter and looking interested.

Mari moved into the centre of a room, nudging a cushion under her with a foot, and sat down with the box in her lap. Shuffling over to her, Terra noticed there was an image engraved on the flat lid of the box—almost like a coat of arms. There were five symbols arranged in a circle that she was sure represented the five base elements, and a stylised engraving of a dragon's head in the very centre. Its eyes were set with tiny chips of emerald—at least, one of them was; the other was missing, though Terra suspected that hadn't always been the case. Scuff marks marred the surface of the wood, which she assumed had once been polished and smooth. It looked very old.

"It's a game," Mari explained, in a voice that suggested she didn't entirely know what she was talking about either. She ran a paw over the lid and the old engraving. "Chios told me young dragons used to play this game a lot…at least, before the war. A lot of the games were lost or misplaced during the war, so they're kind of hard to come across. She found this one in the library—we think it might have been dug out of the rubble back when they were repairing the city after the war."

"A dragon game?" Hunter asked, moving over to the girls to get a better look. "I didn't even know dragons played games."

"Here, look." Mari put the box on the floor in front of her and pried the lid open. Cougar shuffled over to look.

There were words engraved on the inside of the lid, though they were written in old draconian and none of the cats could read them. Inside the box were two tattered pouches that appeared to be made from deer skin, and under them was a wooden board of sorts. Mari plucked the pouches from the box, and they jangled as though filled with pieces of metal or chips of wood. Hunter, meanwhile, reached down to take the wooden board. He soon found that it opened on hinges into a much larger, semi-flat playing field—complete with fake mountains, rivers, trees and shrubs.

"A board game," Cougar said in mild surprised as Hunter laid the wooden playing field out on the floor. There was a blank space in the very centre of the board, as though something was missing, but otherwise it looked like a tiny replica of the Dragon Realms—or at least something similar to it.

"What's in the pouches?" Terra asked, leaning over to take one from Mari. It jangled at her touch and she found it was full of bronze medallions, each engraved with different symbols that reminded her of the elements.

"These are the counters," Mari added, emptying her pouch onto the floor. Tiny wooden replicas of dragons, cheetahs, moles and apes tumbled onto the floor, followed by a larger replica of what seemed to be a rocky mountain—complete with a tiny spirit gem at its peak. "Oh, that's what Chios meant…"

Without bothering to explain, Mari placed the miniature mountain in the empty space in the middle of the board. It fitted perfectly, and the others soon noticed the tiny moat that surrounded it. Cougar and Hunter settled down on cushions on the opposite side of the board.

"So…how do you play?" Cougar asked, leaning his cheek on his hand and propping his elbow up on his knee.

The keen-eyed Terra was the first to notice what they'd missed in the box. A very old piece of parchment was flattened at the very bottom, and the pantheress pulled it out extra carefully to make sure she didn't damage it. Luckily, unlike the words engraved on the box, the words on this piece of parchment were written in the more recent, universal language that both dragon and feline used frequently. Her eyes skimmed over the words curiously.

"Instructions," she announced, frowning. "It looks complicated."

"Chios explained some of it to me," Mari said, plucking the parchment from Terra's paws. "Let me see."

A minute passed in silence as the female cheetah looked over the rules, her brow creasing every now and then. Eventually she set it aside and looked up with a wide smile and bright eyes. "Why don't we just make it up as we go along?"

Cougar uttered a sound caught between a cough and a laugh, and Hunter smiled wryly. Terra stifled a laugh behind her paw. Mari made a face and insisted, "I got the gist of it!"

"Sure, sure," Cougar taunted, eyes twinkling teasingly.

"First thing we need to do is pick an element," Mari explained, ignoring her cousin. "You can have up to five players—one for each element—but you only need two to play. The element represents your team."

"Oh, oh, I choose fire!" Cougar insisted, grinning like a cub. Mari rolled her eyes at him. "What? Everyone knows fire is the coolest."

"Alright…Terra?"

"Earth," the pantheress said without missing a beat, and then blushed. "I was named for the earth, after all."

"I will choose electricity, because it is unpredictable and strikes as suddenly as an arrow from a bow." Hunter's eyes twinkled as he spoke, with an almost taunting confidence. Mari smiled brightly.

"And that leaves me with…ice," she said, before remembering the rarer, almost forgotten fifth element, "or wind. Nah, I'll go with ice."

"Then we choose our team," Mari continued, beginning to divide up the many, tiny wooden figures. "Everyone gets a certain number of each counter. Four dragons, four cheetahs, six moles, six apes. The objective is to get at least one of your dragons to the spirit gem mountain in the middle. If you meet other counters on the way, you engage in battle. The outcome is decided by flipping a medallion. Terra, you have them?"

"Oh, right." She handed Mari the pouch of medallions and watched her pull them out one by one. Each was engraved on one side by a symbol representing one of the five elements, but no two medallions were the same. Mari flipped the ice-fire medallion over in her paws.

"If the symbol that matches your team's element lands face-up, you win the battle and the losing counter is taken out of the game. Unless they're a dragon—dragons are only taken out if they lose three battles."

Scratching her head, she examined the piece of parchment again, despite her suggestion of making the rules up. Terra couldn't help but smile at the look of intense concentration on her face. At length, Mari looked up again and examined her counters.

"Each counter can do different things… dragons can fly if they land on a specially marked spot. You can move two apes at once, and they can leapfrog over other counters. Cheetahs can move up to three spaces at once. Moles can build and break down obstacles to hinder other counters. There are other things too, but they're a bit too confusing… Why don't we just start playing and see what happens?"

"Classic choice," Cougar grinned. "When in doubt, do it anyway. So, the aim is to get one dragon to the mountain before anyone else gets there? Easy peasy. I'm going to whip all of your butts."

"Don't be so sure, Cougar," Hunter said softly, a smile under his whiskers.

"Right!" Mari beamed, throwing the parchment aside again and looking eager. "Everyone knows _I'm_ going to win!"

Terra laughed at the look on her face, and together they arranged their counters on opposite sides of the playing field. It wasn't quite square, but nor was it round—more like a cross between the two. Terra pondered for a moment what such a shape would be called, but soon the game began and such thoughts were all but thrust from her mind. They got off to a shaky start, unsure what all the rules were, but by the time the very last shred of light outside had disappeared and only the lamp hanging from the ceiling illuminated the playing field, the game was in full swing.

"Aha, my ape challenges your mole to a duel! …In real life, I think we all know who would win."

"Never underestimate the moles, Cougar."

"What, no! Aww…that was totally cheating."

"How can you cheat a medallion toss?"

"Um…my dragon landed on a marked space. What does that mean?"

"Oh, that means it can fly! Only for one turn, though. I think it can jump four spaces while it's flying…"

"Take that, Hunter! Your cheetahs will never get past my mole's expertly crafted wall!"

"You forget I also have moles, Cougar."

"…this game sucks."

Hours passed in this way, and before they knew it, the game had extended into the wee hours of the morning. Listening to the giggles of Mari as she watched Cougar lose yet another counter to one of Hunter's dragons, Terra thought she had never had more fun. It felt as though a balloon of happiness was swelling in her chest, and suddenly she had never felt gladder that she had taken the risk and left her old tribe. These cheetahs were more than just allies and acquaintances—they were her friends.

Sometime between midnight and dawn, Mari was yawning and threatening to fall asleep in the middle of a battle between one of her apes and Cougar's last dragon. Terra was curled up on her cushion, watching the proceedings with a sleepy eye. Hunter's dragon was the closest to the mountain, and she was certain he would win in a few more turns.

"Come oooooon, fire," Cougar chanted, drumming his fists on his knees nervously as Hunter tossed the medallion in the air. It spun slowly, watched by four sets of eyes, and descended towards the floor.

They never saw what it landed on.

A loud, alarming howl sliced through the silence of night, startling the cats so badly that three out of four jumped to their feet—Terra tried to, but tripped over her cushion and found herself back on the floor again. The medallion skittered across the ground, knocked by Cougar's foot, but it had been all but forgotten by the startled felines. The shriek of the war horn continued unbroken for several seconds, reverberating in their sensitive ears without mercy, prompting Mari to slap her paws over her ears.

Hunter raced for the window, hand on his sword, but even his keen eyes could see little through the cloak of night. Whirling around, he met the wide, frightened eyes of the others. Terra's heart was hammering madly against her ribcage, and it felt like her balloon of happiness had completely deflated.

"They wouldn't—in the middle of the night, they wouldn't," Hunter insisted desperately, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else. Terra was suddenly on her feet.

"They would," she said in a hushed, terrified voice. The war horn continued uninterrupted in the night, and Cougar uttered a single word that summed up everyone's thoughts.

"Shit."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Surprise! I wrote this pretty quickly considering how long it is. Except now I'm doomed because I've been neglecting my uni assignments. My bad. I was considering splitting this chapter in two, but my beta said it was fine and according to the poll most of you guys like long chapters, so have fun! (Keep them under 10 000 words, I said... pfft, yeah right). War scenarios are really, really hard to write. D: But I hope you find some enjoyment in this chapter, nonetheless. As always, big super amazing thanks to all of my readers and reviewers. :D**

**26.**

Laughter.

Soft grass caressed her snowy paws, tickling her scales as gently as the touch of wind. There was a warm presence beside her—it had a familiar shape, but there was little else she could make out. Just blue. Lots of blue. Happiness swelled her heart to an impossible size and it beat in sync with another beside hers. She was laughing.

But the grass around her began to shrivel and fade, shrinking into dust and red dirt. The warm presence drifted away and she cried for it as the grass died around her paws. Her heart—her essence—ached with terrible sorrow, and that was all she knew. For a heart beat, a flash of green filled her vision—eyes, full of pain and longing.

Then a hollow shriek pierced the silence and the illusion shattered.

Zephira jolted awake with a start, heart beating violently in her chest. For several disorientating moments she thrashed upon her bed of cushions, sending one skittering across the floor, and her eyes tried desperately to pierce the dark. A loud noise was ringing in her ears, and she couldn't tell if it was real or in her head. For a heart stopping moment, she had no idea where—or when—she was.

"Zephira! Zephira!" cried a frightened voice, and the wind dragoness abruptly stopped panicking. Swallowing the lump of fear and confusion in her throat, Zephira staggered to her feet and scanned the dark room for the owner of the voice.

"I'm here, Myst," she called over the sound of the continuing howl that she had now deduced was coming from outside. Her voice trembled and cracked of its own accord, prompting her to clear her throat and try again. "I'm here!"

Small paws pattered over wood, stumbled briefly over a pillow, and then Zephira felt a small, warm body press against her chest. She unfurled her good wing and wrapped it around the shaking body, pulling it closer. Taking deep breaths, she craned her head towards where she knew the window to be, though it was hard to tell in the dark. Now that she was fully awake, it was all too clear what that persistent shriek was.

"What's going on?" Myst whispered into her chest, sounding every bit as shaken as Zephira felt. "What is that noise?"

"It's the war horn," Zephira murmured—half to herself, half to Myst—and felt an icy spike of dread drive its way into her heart the instant the words left her lips. _It was the war horn._

_No…_

"War…war horn?" Myst squeaked, and the fear in her voice was all too plain to hear. Zephira hugged her tighter, curling a forepaw around her shaking body and drawing her close. Her violet eyes fixed on the dark shape of the door, which she could just make out through the shadows of night.

"It'll be okay," she whispered, barely a second before the door exploded inwards. Myst shrieked and Zephira barely contained her own yell—instead, it came out as a strangled gasp. But the silhouette in the doorway was a familiar one.

"Zephira, Myst!" Selador cried, stumbling into the room with a trembling Domino between her front paws. Zephira was on her feet in an instant, though keeping one paw curled firmly around Myst. "Oh thank goodness…"

"Miss Selador!" Zephira exclaimed, startled. "What's happening? The war horn is…!"

"I know, I know," the navy dragoness interrupted swiftly, pushing Domino gently into the room. Zephira could only just make out her eyes, and to see them filled with such alarm and fear made her innards churn with apprehension.

"I'm going to find the guardians," Selador announced swiftly, raising her voice over the continuing horn. "Zephira, I want you to stay here and take care of Myst and Domino. Do not leave this house under any circumstances, do you understand? Barricade the doors and windows with whatever you can find and above all, stay together! If there is an emergency and you are forced to leave, run straight to the atrium. You should be safe in there. Now I have to go."

She turned to leave, but Zephira skirted around Myst and Domino and ran to intercept her. "Miss Selador, wait! I can help! I can fight!"

"No!" The navy dragoness whirled around, eyes flashing fiercely. Zephira staggered back in surprise. "No, Zephira. This is not your battle. Stay here and protect Myst and Domino. I'll be back soon. I promise."

"But, Selador…!"

Ignoring Zephira's pleas, the navy dragoness whirled away and slammed the door shut with her tail. The wind dragoness staggered backwards, shocked, and heard the sound of Selador cantering out of the building. For several seconds she just sat there, stunned, until the howl of the war horn faded and left them in silence. She could hear the sound of the young dragons breathing behind her, and almost the sound of her own heart hammering against her chest.

"Zephira…?" Myst murmured. Shaking, Zephira stood up and turned her back on the door, enshrouding both Myst and Domino in her wing and paws.

"It will be okay," she whispered to them, feeling their warm breath against her clammy scales. "Everything will be okay."

But there was only one thought in her mind. He was here. The one who had scarred her, robbed her of flight, _murdered_ her brother.

The one who had ruined her life.

_He was here._

* * *

By the time the echo of the war horn had faded into silence, Hunter had dashed out of the room, returned with sword in hand and quiver slung on his shoulder, and had begun barking orders at the others. They stood in stunned silence, marvelling at how quickly Hunter could move when he needed to. The board game lay forgotten in the middle of the floor, wooden pieces scattered around it like dead flies. The glow from the lantern hanging from the ceiling now seemed eerie, rather than warm and comforting.

"Cougar, get your javelin, we don't have any time for standing around like stunned deer!" Hunter snapped, a steely glint in his aqua eyes. With a startled cough, Cougar nodded and dashed out of the room. Mari staggered forwards, as though intending to follow, but Hunter grabbed her shoulders in a fierce but steady grip and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Mari, I need you to stay here and keep Terra safe. If she truly has betrayed her tribe, then her life may be in great danger if they find out. You must not leave this building, unless you have absolutely no other choice. Stay put, block the doors, and above all take care of each other. I don't want either of you to get hurt. Do you understand?" His eyes bored into hers with such intensity that she had no choice but to nod mutely.

"Stay safe," Hunter told her, his grip on her shoulders tightened briefly. Mari thought she could see worry in his eyes, and she raised a trembling paw to place on his. He nodded, but it was such a slight movement that she hardly noticed. His next words were a prayer as much as they were a promise. "We'll be back soon."

Cougar chose that moment to return, and Hunter stepped aside to allow him to envelop his cousin in a swift hug. His own eyes drifted to Terra, and for a moment he held her gaze before extending his paw. She stepped forward and took it hesitantly, and couldn't hold back a shiver when he tightened his grip and pulled her closer. Hunter's eyes searched her startled, frightened face, and her paw trembled in his grip.

"Be careful," was all he said before he released her. Terra swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

The two girls watched numbly as Hunter and Cougar slipped out of the room. Neither had any idea what awaited them outside, but for all they knew they could be walking to their deaths. Suddenly, with a strangled sort of sound, Terra dashed forwards just as Hunter made to close the door behind him. The words left her lips almost before she could think them.

"You too!" she cried. "You be careful too!"

Hunter's eyes met hers again, confidence replacing uncertainty like the sun moving out from behind a cloud, and nodded wordlessly. Then he walked away, Cougar at his side. Terra watched their backs, dearly hoping this wouldn't be the last time she saw them. She felt Mari's warm, trembling presence beside her, and together they whispered a quiet prayer.

"Come back to us..."

Neither cheetah nor pantheress were aware how long they stood there together, staring down an empty hallway, hand in hand but utterly silent, as though worry had stripped away all words. They only moved when the sound of elemental explosions, muted outside the walls, split the silence with merciless frequency. Terra uttered a sharp gasp and dashed back into the room, tearing her paw from Mari's in the process. She tripped over the board game in the centre of the room, sending counters and medallions skittering in all directions, but managed to keep her balance as she staggered to the window.

Her shaking paws found the stone sill of the window, and she stared through foggy glass at the darkness outside, still yet to show the first signs of dawn. But even as she stared, flashes of multicoloured light that could only be elemental attacks punched through the blackness like exploding stars in the night. It would have been beautiful had Terra not known the situation to be so dire. Her breath caught in her throat.

"It's begun…" she whispered, gripping the window sill fiercely. She felt Mari move to her side and place a dainty paw upon her own. It seemed almost comforting—in a strange, twisted way—when Terra noticed the cheetah was trembling just as much as she.

She was not alone in her fear.

"We must believe…that they will come back to us," Mari said, her voice trembling as much as her paw. "Alive."

A particularly bright flash of reddish light cut the sky at that moment, and Terra saw a large, dark shape silhouetted against the fading glow of fire. It was not dragon-like in build, but it sported massive bat-like wings far bigger than its wiry body. Terra thought she could see something hunched on top of it, but the glow faded before she had a chance to take a better look. The sky did not remain in darkness for much longer, however, for soon it was lit by multiple flashes of white-gold light that jumped and spider-webbed through the air as though it was alive.

"We have to help…" Terra whispered, so quietly Mari almost didn't hear. A deafening boom punched through the silence as a great fiery explosion ripped through the sky. This time, Terra was sure she heard a high-pitched shriek as one of the dark shapes fell pitifully from the air and was lost in shadow. Her limbs shook.

"We have to help!" she exclaimed, louder, and Mari's paw constricted around hers.

"We can't! We'd only get in the way! Hunter told us to stay here!" the cheetah insisted, sounding honestly terrified. Any other time, Terra would have listened to her—the sheer terror in Mari's voice would have been enough to quell even the most rebellious of thoughts. But not this time.

"That's my tribe out there!" she cried in a strangled voice, turning desperate eyes on her friend. "I cannot stand here and do nothing!"

She made for the door, but Mari's paw tightened on her wrist and pulled her back. For the first time, Terra turned a furious glare on the one cheetah that had trusted her from the start. Mari stared defiantly back, and somehow her fear made her seem all the more fierce.

"Let me go!" Terra insisted, tugging at her trapped paw. "I have to help them!"

"Help _who_?" Mari asked accusingly, never loosening her grip. "If you go out there, one way or another you'll be fighting against your allies. You chose to come to us! If you go out there now, whose side are you on? Who are you fighting for? Them…or us?"

Terra faltered, ice coursing through her veins. For a moment she had no answer, and she was just lost in the accusing oceans of Mari's eyes. But then the words slipped from her lips so easily that she wondered if they had always been there. "No one. But maybe I can stop them."

She held Mari's gaze, begging her to understand, begging her to see her true intentions. But her expression was guarded and confused, neither distrusting nor understanding. Terra swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Maybe I can save a few lives," she whispered. That did it. Like metal chains slipping from her wrists, Mari's grip on Terra's arm loosened but did not fall away. Instead her paws enveloped those of the pantheress, and she stared earnestly into her eyes.

"Then let me help you."

Relief and gratitude washed over Terra's face like the warm glow of fire, and she embraced the cheetah without another word. In another heartbeat, she had released her and placed her paws on her shoulders, much like Hunter had done previously.

"It will be dangerous," Terra said needlessly.

"Hunter told me to protect you."

"We'll protect each other."

Another earth-shattering boom shattered the night outside and the whole building seemed to shake. The two felines steadied themselves, grabbing at each other in a frantic attempt to keep their feet. No doubt the earth dragons were at work. The tremors subsided in the blink of an eye, and Mari extracted herself from Terra to stumble over to her cushions. Hunter had insisted she arm herself before they left the cheetah village, and now she was gladder than ever that she had listened to his advice. She had kept the short sword—which was little more than a dagger—under her cushions ever since they had arrived at Warfang.

Now, going into battle, it settled into her paw in a strangely comforting way.

"For protection," she told Terra, untying her belt and slipping it through the loop on the scabbard before tying it back around her waist. It hung against her hip, unnervingly out of place against the bright, cheerful blue of her tunic.

"I doubt it will do much good if we get in trouble, but at least it's something," Terra admitted. She would have given anything to have some sort of protective weaponry on her hip at this time, but all she had to rely on was her claws. Still, she reminded herself, she was not here to kill—but to save.

"Stay together, just like Hunter told us," Mari said, eyes bright and resolute. "Let's go."

The pantheress only nodded mutely. As she dashed out of the room after Terra, Mari couldn't help but wonder what Hunter would say had he been able to hear their conversation. But the words that circled in her head were more unnerving than comforting.

'_Lives are never saved in battle.'_

* * *

Terrador had not slept well that night—nor any night since the threat of the panthers had been confirmed by the pantheress in their midst. An hour past midnight he had been woken by one of the guards, as he had requested, to take up his post with the dawn patrol on the western wall. In those dark hours he paced the sandstone battlements, his eyes always trained towards the west. Scouts had reported movement on the western plains only days before, and the west-wall guard had since been doubled.

Regardless of what happened, the dragons would be ready for when the panthers made their move.

Or so Terrador hoped.

Seriphos heard it first. As captain of the guard, he had also insisted on taking the dawn shift alongside his old mentor. They paced the wall together, mostly unspeaking, but finding some reassurance from the strength of each other's presence. Dawn was still a few hours away when Seriphos stopped and frowned into the darkness beyond the wall. Terrador halted beside him.

"What plagues you, Seriphos?"

"I think I can hear wing beats, Master Terrador," he replied without missing a beat. He sounded only slightly uncertain.

"I hear nothing," the earth guardian responded moments later, a frown marring his features, "but my senses have dulled in my old age, and I cannot doubt the hearing of a young dragon such as yourself. Can you tell me how many there are?"

Seriphos frowned and stared harder into the shadows of night outside of Warfang, as though he intended to pierce the darkness with the intensity of his gaze. At length he shrugged helplessly and responded lamely, "…Many."

'_Perhaps this night will not be so dull after all…' _Terrador mused. He opened his mouth to tell Seriphos to alert the other guards just in case of attack, but he never got that far. A flash of red pierced the darkness, a gushing roar rushed towards the wall, and something white-hot shot past Terrador's shoulder, so close he felt it lick at his scales—straight into the stunned captain of the guard.

Seriphos was forced backwards by the violent blow, his talons scraping white scratches in the sandstone wall. His limbs locked together and for a moment he stood rigid, mouth half open in a silent expression of shock and pain. A gaping, smoking wound marred the scales between neck and shoulder on his left side. Then, as though in slow motion, he crumpled and fell backwards over the lip of the battlements.

Terrador's paws were rooted to the spot and for several heartbeats it was as though he had turned to stone. Blood pulsed in his head, throbbing behind his eyes. He heard the muted thud of Seriphos hitting the cobblestones below, and it was that sickening sound that threw the earth guardian into action.

Fury pulsed through his veins and, with a roar that reached the heavens themselves, the earth guardian threw back his head and screamed.

"SOUND THE ALARM!"

The war horn answered his cry only seconds later, uttering an unearthly howl that startled every citizen of Warfang from their peaceful slumber. Guards all over the city were dragged from their dream realms into dawn chaos. Some donned armour, but others wasted no time in racing out into the streets to assist their brothers in arms.

As the Guard raced to answer his call to action, Terrador whirled towards the darkness and fired a bullet of stone blindly into the night—his response to the fireball that had felled the captain of the Guard. A shriek emanated from somewhere ahead, and he thought he saw the faint outline of something large and winged fall from the sky. Vengeance was sweet.

As though the earth guardian's attack had been a signal, the guards all along the wall lined up and fired a barrage of elemental attacks into the night. The darkness was lit for several blinding seconds by fire and electricity, and in that glow the dragons saw them—Dreadwings. They covered the sky, wings beating strong as they flew in formation towards the walls, telltale lumps hunched upon their backs. But then the glow faded, and they disappeared alarmingly into darkness.

"Again!" Terrador roared. "Fire!"

Once more the sky was lit, and then something else interrupted what had once been a peaceful, silent night. Another horn bellowed its tuneless song to the sky from the other side of the city. Terrador whirled around in time to see elemental flashes illuminate the night sky far across the city near the eastern wall. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"They've split up," he said in a hushed voice, and cursed himself for not calling the tactic sooner. They had caught Warfang in a pincer movement—in the middle of the night, no less. But it did not take long for Terrador to shake off the shock and spring back into action.

"Mason!" he roared, and the mole who had been marching the western wall with the dawn guard instantly snapped to attention. "I want moles on those catapults! Immediately!"

Mason saluted smartly and raced off to find his moles. The catapults had been set up days previously in preparation for when the panthers returned with their Dreadwings. They were far too small to be used by dragons, but were deadly accurate in the dexterous hands of moles. Satisfied, Terrador roared another order to the surrounding guard, which was growing by the minute as those who had been asleep raced to their assistance.

"Snipers to the lookout towers! Bring those Dreadwings down!"

Upon his order, a small force of specially trained dragons—who had been preparing for this very moment—took flight towards the highest points they could reach in the city. Terrador wasted no time in screaming his last order to the rest of the Guard.

"The rest of you, protect these walls! Do not let those panthers into the city!"

A collective bark of agreement responded to his call, and then Terrador did something he had never done before. He turned away from the approaching enemy and leapt down into the streets of Warfang, leaving the guard leaderless and to their own devices. The earth guardian struck the ground hard, but his massive, tree-trunk-like legs absorbed the shock almost entirely. Then, heart pounding furiously in his chest, he loped over to the broken form of Seriphos.

The captain's eyes were closed, and rivers of blood were flowing through the cracks in the cobblestones beneath him. Fear was not an emotion Terrador felt often, but it was what was coursing through his veins as he gazed upon the dragon he had once trained as his pupil—a dragon who had, in his pre-guardian days, been like a younger brother to him. Silent prayers circling in his mind, he laid his head across Seriphos's beaten body.

A heartbeat, strong and steady, met his ears. Terrador sighed with relief.

"Seriphos! Seriphos, wake up! Now is not the time to sleep your life away!"

Startled into wakefulness by the guardian's booming voice, the captain of the guard jerked and forced his eyes open. The world spun as he took a shaky, gasping breath, and his rolling eyes found Terrador's concerned face. Seriphos coughed and felt a lance of pain pierce through his shoulder.

"T-Terrador! What…?"

"You were struck by enemy fire," Terrador explained solemnly. "A Dreadwing attack, no doubt. Get on your feet, Seriphos. Can you stand?"

Ignoring the spikes of pain through his shoulder and the base of his wing, the captain raised his body from the ground and shakily took a stance in front of the guardian. A few unsteady heartbeats later, and then Seriphos stood tall, his legs solid and steady despite the blood trickling down his chest. The wound had carved a charred path from the space between the base of neck and left shoulder to the base of his left wing joint. It was still smoking.

"I can stand," Seriphos announced defiantly, though a sudden tremble in his left leg belied his pain. "I wouldn't miss this battle for anything."

Terrador nodded solemnly, "Good dragon. Though I doubt you'll be flying."

In response, Seriphos tried to stretch out his left wing, but waves of fire swept mercilessly through his muscles and he gritted his teeth to avoid crying out in pain. Eyes watering with agony, he kept the wing folded tightly against his side and nodded reluctantly.

"Not in this battle," he agreed grimly.

"Take the ground force," Terrador ordered, springing back into action with practised ease. "Stop the panthers from breaking through our gates or trying to scale the walls. I will lead the air force to meet the Dreadwings."

"Ancestors be with you, Terrador," Seriphos responded before he whirled away to climb back up onto the wall.

"And you," the earth guardian called back. Then he sprang into the air with a strong beat of his massive wings and roared. "Air force! To me!"

The guards had trained and trained for this moment, and like a well-oiled machine they followed Terrador's orders without question. The ground force, under Seriphos's lead, dove from the battlements to confront the wave of panthers that had just appeared out of the shadows, and the others followed the earth guardian as he leapt skyward to meet the Dreadwings in battle. But the guards were not the only ones to answer his call.

"Need a little help?" called a familiar female voice, and Terrador spun around in midair to see who had hailed him. A navy dragoness soared gracefully to his side, her greenish eyes twinkling confidently.

"Selador!" he called gruffly. "I cannot say it does not please me to see you, but what of your young charges?"

"I left Zephira in charge and told them to stay put in the house," Selador replied, hovering in front of him. "They'll be fine."

Terrador grunted. "As long as that young dragoness gets no rash ideas in her head."

"She won't. Not while she has Myst and Domino to protect. Shall we commence this battle then, old friend?"

"You read my mind."

Together, the two earth dragons turned to join the air force rushing to meet the Dreadwings in combat. But they didn't have to fly far. Terrador's detour to check on Seriphos had cost him and the guards who followed his order precious time. The Dreadwings had already reached the walls, and the dragons were hard-pressed to hold them back. But already panthers were jumping from the backs of Dreadwings, or being dropped from their claws onto the battlements. Down below, a force of Death Hounds had broken through the ranks of guards and was ramming the western gate with everything they had.

Terrador was well practised in battle, and it did not take long before he spotted his target. A familiar panther was soaring on the back of a large Dreadwing at the very head of the pack, a staff in his paw and deep blue eyes shining with merciless intent. The earth guardian recognised him instantly. This was the panther that had tried, unsuccessfully, to negotiate with him previously—the one who had ordered him to step aside and let them overrun Avalar. This was the panther who had ordered the attack when Terrador had refused his terms, the one responsible for the dragons that had died that day. He still remembered his name.

Skelos, leader of the panther tribe.

With a terrifying roar, Terrador broke away from Selador's side and barrelled towards the Dreadwing carrying the panther leader. Skelos saw him coming, and a wild grin spread across his face. Clambering to his feet on the Dreadwing's back, he swung his staff in a wide arch, feeling whips of flame lick at the air around his body. Terrador's eyes widened in shock at the display of elemental power—power that should have been impossible for any but a dragon—and then Skelos yelled a single word.

"Dive!"

The Dreadwing dove. Skelos jumped. With a cry like a wounded animal, he swung his staff with as much force as he could muster towards the charging earth guardian. Flames flickered to life around the spirit gem on the head of the staff, Terrador's claws missed him by inches, and Skelos braced himself for impact. The staff struck the earth guardian's chest with devastating force, and the panther swore he heard something snap. Terrador's agonised howl cut the air, and then Skelos was falling.

He uttered an alarmed yelp as the ground rushed up to meet him, and cursed himself for not foreseeing this outcome sooner. But just as Skelos was preparing himself to be crushed against the cobblestone streets, his Dreadwing swooped above him and grabbed him in its wiry claws.

"Drehgarr!" Skelos called, relief all too evident in his voice. "Good catch!"

"No die today, Mah-ster Skee-los," the broken dialect of the Dreadwing reached him through the rush of wind in his ears. Skelos grinned.

But he didn't have long to celebrate his meagre victory. A sudden shriek of pain left Drehgarr's lips and he careened out of control, his claws losing their grip on Skelos's upper arms. The panther cried out in alarm and twisted his head around in time to see the earth guardian fire another stone bullet. Terrador was not out yet.

As Drehgarr swerved erratically to avoid the second bullet, his claws slipped and Skelos fell from his grip. The panther curled himself into a ball as he hit the cobblestones, wincing as he rolled and tumbled to a stop. Holding his aching shoulder, he pushed himself back to his feet and looked up in alarm, expecting dragon claws to come swooping down on him at any moment. But Drehgarr had swerved around and was charging back at the earth guardian, screeching a high-pitched war cry as he cannoned into the dragon's chest. Howling like wild animals, dragon and Dreadwing rolled over each other in the dark sky, clawing and biting without mercy.

Safe for the moment, Skelos took that time to take in his surroundings. He stood in the centre of one of Warfang's streets, not far from the western wall. Across the far side of the city, he could just hear the faint shrieks of the combined Dreadwing and panther force attacking the southern wall, led by his twin brother. His own force had pushed the dragons back considerably, and the Dreadwings had already carried many a panther into the city.

Skelos smiled grimly as a dragon shouted in alarm just before the western gate splintered under the unbridled charging power of several Death Hounds. Wooden shrapnel flew in every direction as hounds and panthers poured into the formerly impregnable city. Dragons dropped from the skies to meet them in battle, and the earth guardian himself broke away from Drehgarr to assist the guards. Warfang was being overrun.

"By dawn," Skelos said to himself, turning his eyes to the sky, which had begun to lighten already, "the Dragon City will be ours."

Then the sound of steel being drawn from its sheath met his ears, and Skelos spun around.

* * *

Nalu awoke in a panic to the sound of the war horn and her father's stern voice telling her to "Stay inside!"

She didn't manage to gather her bearings before he had rushed out of the room to join his fellow guards in battle. By the time she had shaken the remnants of sleep and shock from her mind, Nalu found herself alone in the room, shaking like a leaf. Swallowing her fear and wincing against the unrelenting howl of the war horn, the young green dragoness jumped to her feet and staggered over to the window. There was only darkness outside, punctuated by the occasional blast of elemental magic.

There was only one thought in Nalu's head—find Zephira. She wasn't sure where the thought came from, or how it managed to override everything other thought, but it was the one thing she was certain of. Even her father's order had faded to the back of her mind.

The last battle had cost the life of her crush. She would be damned if this one cost the life of his sister.

Not stopping to think about her plan, if she even had one, Nalu turned and hurried back across the room, wrenching the door open. The need to prevent what had happened last time overrode every last shred of common sense as she dashed down the corridor after slamming the door shut behind her. Out into the dark streets she fled, hardly noticing the faint form of her father as he winged his way towards the eastern wall. The city looked different in the dark, but Nalu had visited Selador's residence many times since Zephira had moved in with her, and she knew the way almost by heart.

Through the cobblestone streets she ran, paws slapping on cold stone and her breath coming in short gasps. The shrieks and explosions of elemental attacks were clear and loud in the stillness of the night, and her heart beat a frantic rhythm of fear against her ribcage. Find Zephira. All she had to do was find Zephira. And somehow, just being beside her would mean that she was safe. She hadn't been with Ciro when he had died. As long as she was with Zephira, the wind dragoness would be safe.

A particularly loud roar pierced the night and Nalu shrieked, flattening herself to the ground with her paws over her head. When it was apparent she wasn't about to be set upon by enemies, she got shakily back to her feet and continued on her way. She wished Selador's house wasn't so far away. But she would get there. She had to get to Zephira.

The wind dragoness in question was still curled around Myst and Domino in her room, whispering soothing words to them in a vain effort to block out the sound of battle outside. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since Selador had left them, but the explosions and roars were growing louder and more frequent with every passing moment. Zephira kept her eyes closed, but the face of a grinning, murderous panther kept swimming before her mind's eye. She could hear her brother yelling, almost as though she was back at that day, curled around a sobbing hatchling, beset on all sides.

'_Run, Zephira! I'll hold them off!'_

'_Run!'_

'_Zephira!'_

"Zephira!"

The white dragoness jumped with shock when a different voice called out her name—a female voice. Faintly, she could hear the sound of someone—or was it some_thing_?—knocking furiously at the front door, desperate to get in. Zephira felt her heart leap into her throat and curled herself tighter around the hatchlings.

"What's happening? Who is that?" Myst asked in a trembling voice. But Zephira shook her head and just whispered soothingly.

"It's okay. It's okay."

The knocking sounded again, louder this time, as though the figure on the other side of the door was becoming increasingly panicked. Was it a panther? Zephira had no idea what to do. She didn't want to risk leaving Myst and Domino unguarded while she went to check, especially if there was a chance it could be an enemy. All she could do was stay silent and hope it gave up—hope it didn't find a way in.

"Zephira! Please! Let me in!"

Quite suddenly a rush of familiarity washed over Zephira and she realised with a jolt of guilt and horror she knew the owner of the voice. Springing to her feet, the wind dragoness extracted herself from the two hatchlings, wrenched open her door, and raced out to the front door. When she opened it a crack, she found herself staring into the frightened face of Nalu. Zephira breathed an inward sigh of relief and beckoned the earth dragoness through the threshold as quickly as she could.

"What are you doing outside at this time?" she hissed, snapping the door shut and flicking the metal bolt back into place with a claw. Nalu shuffled her paws sheepishly.

"I…I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," Zephira said shortly, hurrying Nalu through the main room of the house and into her room, where a nervous Myst and Domino were huddled together. The latter jumped to his feet when the two older dragonesses stepped through the door.

"Nalu! Oh man, I thought it was something evil that was going to eat Zeph!" laughing, the black and white dragon launched himself at Nalu and hugged her paws, relieved. The sightless Myst swung her head towards the noise, trying to pinpoint its location.

"What happened?" she called nervously.

"Everything is fine, Myst. It was just Nalu," Zephira reassured her. Her violet eyes slid over to the green dragoness, a new, guilty thought surfacing in the forefront of her mind. She knew what she wanted—nay, needed—to do. Myst and Domino would be safe with Nalu.

"I'm going to go check the other rooms and make sure the windows are locked," the wind dragoness announced seconds later. "Nalu, stay with Myst and Domino. I'll be back in a moment."

"Be careful," the green dragoness called out shakily, but Zephira only acknowledged it with a flick of her tail as she stepped out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her.

For several minutes Nalu just sat and stared at the closed door, waiting with baited breath for Zephira to reappear and rejoin them. Then they would all be safe together. Myst and Domino pressed close to either side of her and she enveloped them with her wings, comforting herself as much as them. Minutes crawled by in silence, and Zephira did not reappear. A rogue thought crept into Nalu's head and she tried in vain to squash it. Zephira wouldn't do that.

…Would she?

Feeling as though her heart as dropped into her stomach and icy water was flowing through her veins, Nalu stood up. Myst shifted and raised her sightless eyes towards where she assumed the green dragoness's face to be.

"Where's Zephira?"

"I'm going to go look," Nalu told her, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "Stay here."

Steeling her nerves, Nalu slipped out of the room and looked around for any sign of the white dragoness. She found none. Her legs shook with each step and she checked one room and then the next, still with no sign of Zephira. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Nalu checked the locks on the windows in both rooms. The first was locked tight. The second was not. On the floor was a ragged piece of parchment that appeared to have been torn out of the book lying open beside it, and a pot of ink that had been knocked over onto its side.

Ink bled across the floor like obsidian blood, soaking the pages of the book and the edges of the torn piece of parchment. A single word was scrawled upon that piece, and Nalu's blood froze when her eyes found it. She sat down heavily and stifled a sob.

_Sorry._

* * *

"We'll split up," was the first thing Hunter said when he and Cougar jogged out of the building they'd been staying in. "It sounds like there's action on both sides of the city. I'll take the west sector. You take the east. See if you can find any of the guardians and find out what's going on. See you soon."

"Be careful, Hunter," Cougar called over his shoulder as he turned down a side street, javelin propped up on his shoulder. A thought struck him and he added quickly, "Think Prowlus will turn up?"

"I doubt it," Hunter replied grimly, "not this time. But it would be best if he stays away."

Without another word, he split away down a dark alley towards the western wall, bow in hand. The sound of battle grew ever louder as he drew closer, and he pulled an arrow from his quiver just to be ready—in case something came racing around the corner. But for several minutes the streets seemed empty, and only shadows greeted him around every corner.

That was, until the western wall came into view, and a Dreadwing almost crash-landed in front of him. Startled, Hunter leapt backwards and loosed an arrow upon reflex. It thrummed a deadly tune as it skimmed through the air and buried itself in the Dreadwing's leg. With a shriek, the bat-like beast turned and winged away, but not before Hunter noticed something he'd missed in the darkness. A panther had been clutched in the Dreadwing's claws, but no longer. Hunter's arrow had caused its grip to loosen, and the panther rolled to a stop on the cobblestones nearby.

For a moment Hunter wondered if the impact had killed him, but then he pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his shoulder ruefully and staring after his Dreadwing. Crouching in the shadows of the nearby building, Hunter took a moment to examine this panther. He was different from the others he'd seen. Instead of the tattered, sandy tunics of the others, this panther wore a tunic of rich brown, and a belt made from the skin of some unfortunate, furry animal was fastened around his waist. He held a tall staff in one paw, upon the head of which rested something that looked suspiciously like a spirit gem. A wooden pendant hung against his chest—a medallion, it seemed, only broken in half. Hunter wondered where the other half was.

Hunter was no fool. He was certain this panther who had just fallen from the sky was the leader of the panther tribe. He carried himself with a self-confident air—one that Hunter had seen many times in his own chief.

It would have been all too easy to draw another arrow and end this panther's life then and there. No battle, no mess, no struggle. But that would have been the dishonourable thing to do, and Hunter did not agree with dishonour. Panther or not, this creature deserved a chance to fight for his life—a chance that, no doubt, he would not have given to his own enemies. Nevertheless, Hunter would not sink to his level.

Instead, his bow joined the arrows in his quiver and he drew his sword from its sheath. The sound must have alerted the panther, for he spun around almost instantly and took up a defensive stance. Then his eyes—ocean blue, strangely familiar—skimmed over his opponent and he relaxed. Perhaps he thought one cheetah was nothing to worry about. Hunter was determined to prove him wrong.

"Didn't actually expect to see any cheetahs here tonight," said the panther airily in an almost mocking conversational tone. "A bit too eager to get your share of the action, eh? Don't worry; when we've dealt with the dragons, your little village will get its turn."

"I'm afraid you won't make it to Avalar," Hunter replied, striding forwards slowly. "I intend to kill you tonight."

"_Do_ you?" A mocking smirk spread across the face of the panther. "In that case, do humble me with the name of my to-be murderer."

"Hunter," the cheetah replied shortly, eyes glinting a steely challenge, and then added on a whim, "captain of the cheetah guard. And you?"

The panther tossed his staff from one hand to the other, and slowly began to circle his opponent. "Captain Hunter… Unless your chief has a son, you'd be next in line for the position, wouldn't you? You'll make a fitting opponent."

"Your name, panther," Hunter replied coldly, ignoring the comment. The panther grinned.

"Skelos, leader of the panther tribe. Surprised?"

"Hardly. I had surmised as much. Your attire suggests something about you is different from the average panther. Tell me, what defenceless creature was so unfortunate to become your belt?"

Skelos laughed quietly—a genuine laugh, not mocking in the slightest. It surprised Hunter, but he did not let down his guard. Instead he narrowed his eyes and sized the panther up, trying to figure out what was the best way to make the first move. Skelos held his gaze, eyes twinkling confidently. "A desert jackal. We hunt them as game in the Badlands. There's not really much else _to_ hunt. I dare say that isn't the case in your lovely Valley. Must be nice to live in the lap of luxury, day in, day out…"

"You make it sound as though prey is delivered to us on silver platters. Avalar is rich with resources, true, but life there is not easy by any means."

"Don't mock me. You don't know the meaning of hardship, _captain_. Try living a day in the desert and perhaps you will change your tune."

"It was the fault of your own ancestors that you ended up there, _Skelos_."

"It was _your_ ancestors who unfairly drove them from Avalar! That valley is rightfully ours and you know it!"

Without warning, Hunter stopped circling and abruptly rushed his opponent. Skelos caught his sword with the neck of his staff and for a moment they were locked together, face to face and eyes blazing. Then Skelos cocked his head to the side and grinned.

"Were we starting? I had no idea."

With a strong thrust, he wrenched his staff away from Hunter's sword and danced backwards, barely avoiding the cheetah's second strike. But within seconds he had closed the gap again, and sword and staff met with vicious force before breaking apart once more. Step by step, paws moving too fast for any who would watch to keep track of, panther and cheetah circled and feinted, parted and clashed, a perfect dance of symmetry.

The dark streets whirled around them as they ducked and weaved, struck and dodged, and the sounds of battle seemed strangely far away. Skelos's eyes were blazing with the excitement of battle, but Hunter's were like storm clouds roiling with electricity. Fire and lightning met with unbridled ferocity, sparks flying in the night as, once more, they leapt away from each other, panting.

"You are a skilled fighter, Hunter," Skelos praised, chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Sweat slicked the fur to his shoulders, but his body still trembled with excitement and energy.

"And you," Hunter inclined his head almost respectfully, breathing just as heavily. The hilt of his sword felt slick in his grip. "But I think you understand why I can't let you live. I have a duty to my tribe and to my friends. I will protect them at all costs."

"Admirable sentiments. It's just a shame you won't live long enough to make good on them."

"We'll see."

Ducking under the blow that was aimed for his head, Hunter aimed for the exposed midriff of his opponent, drawing his sword back for the blow. But Skelos recovered too quickly, parrying the blow with this staff and pushing the cheetah back. The jagged spikes that encircled the head of the staff just below the orange gem caught Hunter on the upper arm, and he staggered back as they ripped through flesh and fur. Wincing, he stepped back and held his free hand to the wound, feeling wet blood against his pad.

"There is a reason you are outmatched, Captain Hunter," Skelos said, levelling the head of the staff with the cheetah's chest. His eyes were glowing with what he knew was to come, but Hunter could not read minds.

"And what is that?"

The panther's wild grin grew and, to Hunter's amazement, the crystal on the end of his staff began to glow. "Fire."

Hunter threw himself to the ground just in time to avoid the fireball that burst from the end of Skelos's staff and cut a blazing path through the air above him. It passed so close he felt it char the tips of his fur. For the first time, a spike of fear drove its way into his gut. How could it be possible for a panther to wield the elements? The only other creatures that had ever used the power normally reserved solely for the dragons had been…

"Where did you get that staff?" Hunter asked coldly, slowly picking himself up off the ground. Skelos just grinned and Hunter felt his blood boil. "Where did you get that staff?! Only the apes ever had weaponry like that!"

"Then you already have your answer, don't you?" Skelos smiled mockingly.

Angrily, Hunter charged across the small gap between him and his opponent, feinting to the left to avoid Skelos's next attack. The panther took the bait, firing another ball of flame that Hunter all too easily avoided. His momentum carried him straight into Skelos, sending him crashing into the door of the building behind him. The wood splintered under the force of the collision, and both cats rolled over each other into the building, struggling to regain their bearings.

Hunter leapt up first and quickly retrieved his sword from where he had dropped it. But now Skelos was between him and the door, and he was trapped in this building, whatever it was. A quick glance confirmed it as a large warehouse, empty but for several piles of wooden crates that lined the walls, the contents of which Hunter was unaware. Backing up slowly, he took up a defensive position as Skelos clambered back to his feet. There were splinters of wood in his dark fur and he looked simply livid as he pointed his staff at Hunter.

"Bad move," the panther hissed, pawing a ribbon of blood from his cheek where a large splinter had sliced him. Hunter was all too conscious of the blood running in rivulets down his own arm.

"You can't use your elemental magic in here," he told Skelos grimly. But the panther only narrowed his eyes.

"And why not?"

Hunter opened his mouth to respond, but he never got that far. Skelos leapt forward with all the grace of the cat he was and sliced through the empty air with a powerful swing of his staff. A wave of flame erupted from the gem, curling outwards in tongues and ribbons, licking hungrily at the wooden crates. Hunter covered his face with his paws as the fire enveloped him, eating at his fur with burning fangs. Then Skelos came charging through the smoke, and Hunter barely managed to block as he was pushed back several feet.

Blinking smoke and tears from his eyes, the cheetah pushed away from his opponent and staggered back, coughing. The fires took hold of the old wood of the crates and began to grow, slowly at first, but with ever increasing speed, inching towards the wooden banisters that held the iron roof up.

"Are you insane?" Hunter yelled, pawing ash from his muzzle. "You'll kill us both!"

To his satisfaction, Skelos no longer looked entirely confident. Indeed, he was staring at the burning crates with an expression remarkably close to horror. But then he scowled and it vanished from his face. He turned back to Hunter, eyes glowing with firelight.

"True, the flames will consume this building in time. But I won't need that long to bring you down."

"You can't even control that weapon! Set it aside before you kill yourself!"

"Why don't you stop worrying about me and start worrying for your _own_ life?!" Skelos shrieked, sudden anger writhing across his features.

Hunter dove for the nearest stack of crates that were not being consumed by fire as countless spears of flame exploded from Skelos's staff and raced towards him. They shot straight through the crates and out the other side, and Hunter was thrown backwards across the stone floor as one pierced his shoulder. He couldn't hold back the cry of agony that ripped from his lips as he rolled to a stop, smoking. His sword clattered to the ground several meters away.

Skelos panted heavily, his hand trembling around his staff. For a moment he simply surveyed his handiwork, spotting the shaking form of Hunter lying on the ground, obscured by smoke. The fires consumed the crates ever faster and now the banisters were flaming too, turning black under the intense heat. Slowly, Skelos began to pace towards his prone adversary.

Groaning, Hunter pushed his aching body up until he was kneeling, one hand on the ground and the other cradled in his lap. Blood matted his fur and there was an ugly burn mark in his left shoulder, but he was not out yet. Reaching behind his back, the captain of the cheetahs at last drew his bow from his quiver and shakily got to his feet. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he drew an arrow and knocked it to his bow, aiming through the smoke.

Skelos laughed.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Long range weapons in a close-quarters fight? You must be desperate."

Hunter inclined his head to the side, unsmiling, his eyes cold and hard. "I never miss."

Skelos grinned, "Prove it."

He ran. Hunter fired.

The arrow slammed into Skelos's shoulder with enough force to stop him in his tracks, too quick for him to dive to the side and avoid it, as he had been intending. The panther gasped and staggered backward, eyes wide with pain and disbelief. Slowly he raised a paw to the arrow still quivering in his flesh, and then turned a gaze of uttered hatred on the cheetah that had fired it.

"You'll regret that."

Hunter's eyes flashed. "Prove it."

Another fireball roared through the air towards him, and Hunter threw himself into a roll to avoid it. He jumped up without stopping and took a flying leap onto a crate that had only just started to smoulder. Drawing another arrow, he leapt again onto a higher crate just in time to avoid the spear of flame that shot through the space he'd been standing in moments ago. He knocked the arrow to his bow, but was forced to leap into midair when another wave of flame was sent his way. Falling through ash, smoke and fire, Hunter squinted along the line of his arrow, drew back and fired.

The arrow leapt from the string but a second before Hunter hit the ground in a forward roll that spared his legs the shock of landing. It thrummed through the ash-choked air and struck its target in Skelos's upper arm, just below its twin. The panther choked and coughed as a drill of agony swept through his muscles and almost forced him to his knees.

"H-how did you…?"

Then the ceiling collapsed. Unable to hold the weight of the roof any longer, one of the fire-eaten banisters broke and fell with an almighty crash. Embers and burning splinters exploded in all directions. Both panther and cheetah threw themselves to the floor, covering their heads with their paws as fire licked at their fur. Hunter struggled upright, blinded by smoke, and fumbled for another arrow. Skelos was already scrambling for the door.

But just as it seemed he was about to make it, Hunter's third arrow pierced through the smoke and punched clean through Skelos's tunic beneath his right arm. It just barely missed his flesh and pinned him to what remained of the wooden frame of the door. Startled, the panther tugged fruitlessly at his tunic, but the material refused to give. Angrily, he turned his attention to the arrow itself, but it was stuck fast in the wood. Trying to quell his panic, Skelos stepped backwards and forcefully yanked his tunic over the end of the arrow, tearing off most of the flights in the process. But he spun around too late.

Hunter had an arrow levelled straight for his heart, ready to fire, barely a meter away. Skelos's breath hitched in his throat and his limbs froze at the sight. The cheetah captain stared impassively.

"I never miss."

But he never got to fire the arrow. Something crashed through the roof of the burning building, a flash of yellow rent the ash-choked air, and Hunter screamed in agony. Electricity coursed through his veins, relentlessly tearing him apart from the inside out—or so it felt. The bow and arrow clattered from his paws and he was forced to his knees, limbs twitching spasmodically. Skelos stared in amazement.

Then the pain stopped and, coughing, Hunter raised his head to find himself staring not at one, but at two panthers—identical down to the slightest hair, but for the ragged ear on the new arrival and the thin rapiers in his hands. Electricity sparked along their length and the new panther grinned wickedly.

"You have a lot to learn about dealing with twins."

Too late Hunter remembered Terra's words.

_Two. Twins._

Oh how he wished he hadn't let that fact slip his mind.

"You have impeccable timing, brother," Skelos muttered under his breath, though he didn't sound entirely pleased. Skulk turned a glare on him.

"And you are a moron. Did you really think using fire in a wooden building was a good idea?"

"It seemed like one at the time." Skelos grimaced and his paw inched towards the arrows still protruding from his flesh. Trying to stop his paw from shaking, he gripped the shaft of one and snapped it roughly in half. He had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out in pain. Skulk narrowed his eyes and turned back to the panting Hunter, who was still struggling back to his feet.

"You will pay for injuring my brother, cheetah."

"And you will pay for _murdering_ mine," hissed a sudden, venomous voice from outside. Both panthers spun around in alarm, startled by the new arrival. But what startled them more was who—or rather what—it was.

It was a white dragoness, tiny and frail, hardly up to the waists of the felines. But there were scars carved across her scales in intricate patterns and her eyes burned with unspeakable, undeniable hatred. For a moment, Skulk thought she looked strangely familiar. Then Hunter's strangled voice came from behind.

"Z-Zephira?"

But she wasn't looking at him. She was staring at Skulk, murder in her eyes. There was no fury in the world that could match hers in that moment.

"…_monster_."

* * *

The streets were empty when Mari and Terra raced out into them. They stopped for a moment at a dark crossroads, the silence punctured by explosions of elemental magic and the roars of dragons that seemed closer than they were. It was not what they had been expecting. Instead of crashing straight into the fray, eyes blazing and with words on their lips that, in their wild fantasies, stopped the field of battle in its tracks, they found themselves alone in darkness. The battle seemed far away, and they felt small and insignificant in the silence.

"Which way?" Mari asked uncertainly, her voice ringing strangely through the empty streets. Cold wind teased their fur, and both felines shuddered in response.

"I…don't know…" Terra sounded almost defeated, as though the emptiness of the streets had punctured a bleeding hole straight through her confidence. Visions of her own heroic entrance that stopped panthers and dragons alike in their tracks were shattering like glass before her eyes. She was tiny, far away, and alone.

"Terra? We can't stay here. If we want to help, we need to find them."

Mari's words jolted her out of the stupor she'd been falling into, and Terra offered her a strained smile in return. "I know."

Closing her eyes, the pantheress listened hard for the sound of battle. Faint as it was, she could hear it—though it sounded like it was coming from more direction than one. Shaking off whatever confusion and worry had taken hold of her heart, Terra took Mari's paw and pulled her down the street to the left.

"This way," she called softly over her shoulder, leading the cheetah towards the eastern sector with more confidence than she felt. Paw in paw they ran over the cobblestones, turning corners where necessary, but more or less following a path straight to the eastern wall. The sky was slowly lightening above them, though dawn was still hours away. Buildings were dark shapes reaching skyward around them, and the flashes of elemental energy grew closer with every step.

The battle was just ahead. They could hear it now—not least the sound of two dragons arguing loudly in a nearby street. The wall loomed over them ominously, only streets away from their current position.

"Even in battle! Even in battle you refuse—_refuse_, Volteer—to still that ever-moving, infernal jaw of yours! Do you fear that, should you be brought down in battle, you may not have met your quota of words for the day? Ancestors know you've already spoken enough for ten lifetimes! For once, I must insist that you _stay your tongue_!"

"If you would cease to remain so appallingly, atrociously obnoxious, Cyril, you may yet perceive the panther approaching your imprudent blue posterior before it does us all a favour and eradicates you from the world!" The voice stilled for but a moment, and Terra heard the sound of someone—a panther?—crying out in agony. But then the voice resumed as quickly as before. "Conceivably, were you to focus what diminutive acumen remains in your psyche on your own personal predicament, you may discover you have less to agonize over—and a superior probability of survival!"

"Those sound like the guardians!" Mari hissed in her ear, and Terra made up her mind in an instant.

"Let's go," she said, pulling Mari into the next street towards the sound of the voices. They were punctuated by the yells and roars of panthers and dragons, but soon enough the owners of the voices came into view. Terra sped up almost instantly.

"There they are!" she cried. "If we can convince them to help, we may be able to stop this battle!"

She wasn't even sure how, but all Terra knew in that moment was she needed someone—anyone—on her side, or she wouldn't be able to do anything. She needed to get attention and who better than the guardians to help? No thoughts were spared for _how_ she planned on stopping the battle, but fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—she didn't need them. Because they never reached the guardians.

Howling demonically, spittle flying from their monstrous jaws, a pack of three Death Hounds bounded through the ranks of panthers that had already made it into the city. Their beady little eyes scanned for prey and found it—two apparently defenceless felines at the end of the street, unprotected by numbers or the massive forms of dragons. Drooling eagerly, the hounds turned towards them and charged.

Mari knew she should have run. Instead her limbs locked in place and her eyes widened in unspeakable horror. It was all she could do to watch as the hideous beasts bore down upon her, murder in their tiny eyes and saliva dripping from their dagger-like fangs. Then a hand grabbed her upper arm in a vice-like grip, and a terrified voice shrieked in her ear.

"RUN!"

Terra tugged her arm hard, almost yanking the cheetah to the ground, but Mari recovered just in time to wrench her arm away and run. In terror she fled for the nearest alley she could find, desperate to find a tiny corner, an abandoned room, anything to hide in. She heard Terra calling for her but her mind was buzzing with a fog of fear and she couldn't make sense of any of it. All she could do was run.

The hounds split up when their prey fled, two pursuing the startled panther and the last barrelling after the terrified, fleeing cheetah. Unable to keep track of each other in their panic, the two felines split up down different alleyways in their frantic attempts to outrun the murderous hounds.

Terra could feel her heart trying to leap out of her throat and her paws were burning on the cobblestones, but she couldn't stop under pain of slow, violent death. Leaping over wooden crates stashed away in the alley she had fled down, she kicked out at them as she passed, hoping to block the way of her pursuers. She struck lucky when one of the heavy crates teetered and fell straight into the path of one of the hounds, crushing one of its paws and eliciting a yelp from the pained canine. But the other dodged around the crate and its injured pack-mate and continued the chase.

Turning a sharp corner, Terra skidded into another narrow street and tried desperately to pick up her pace. She could almost feel the Death Hound nipping at her heels. Preoccupied by the canine, the pantheress did not notice that she was heading straight towards the centre of the city. Nor did she know that most of the panthers were being herded in the exact same direction.

Across the western side of the city, Terrador had ordered the ground force to pull back and allow the panthers into the city. At first most of the guard didn't understand why, until the earth guardian bellowed his next order at them.

"Block off the streets! Herd them into the centre of the city! I want them surrounded!"

Along the walls, fiery cannon balls were being shot with deadly accuracy by the moles at the catapults, and Dreadwings were dropping like flies. Leaving the flying beasts to the moles and the snipers in the lookout towers, more than half of the air force descended to the streets to trap the panthers and herd them gradually towards the centre of the city. Whenever the black cats tried to break off down a side-street, an impenetrable wall of dragon bodies and elemental magic would block their way. Slowly but surely, they began to edge towards the centre.

Tripping over a loose crate at the end of an alleyway, Terra stumbled ungainly around another corner and crashed right into a small group of panthers that had just found their way blocked by two burly fire dragons. The panther she had crashed into turned in surprise and, as the hound skidded around the corner after her, Terra made a split second decision. Taking advantage of the panther's surprise, she elbowed him hard in the stomach and slammed him up against the nearby wall, cracking his head against the stone.

"I'll be taking this," she muttered, snatching the javelin from his loose grasp. Then, spinning around, she dodged around the charging hound and fled in the opposite direction. The alarmed yells of the panthers behind her as the enraged hound turned on them assured Terra that she was not being pursued. Grimly, she whispered a silent apology to her brethren and hoped they could handle the hound better than she—or at least that their deaths would be quick and painless.

Around the next corner, Terra stopped and took a breather against the wall, trying to slow the frantic beating of her heart. Only when she had calmed herself did she take note of her position. She was alone. Mari was nowhere to be seen. Her grip on her newly-stolen javelin tightened so violently her knuckles turned white beneath her dark fur.

"This…isn't good…"

Terra knew she couldn't stay here. She was out in this battle for a reason and, most of all, she had to find Mari. It was her fault the cheetah was out here in the first place. It would be her fault if anything happened to her. The thought caused icy rivers to course through her veins. Glancing both ways down the street, she made up her mind and took a left turn towards where the majority of noise was coming from. Rounding a corner at the end of the street, she found herself face to face with a burly earth dragon.

His dark eyes trained on her the moment she appeared, and a wicked snarl spread across his face. With a guttural roar, the dragon spat a bullet of stone that missed Terra by inches when she threw herself to the ground. Gasping in shock, she rolled back onto one knee and raised her terror-stricken face to that of the dragon.

"Wait!" she cried, her voice trembling at the sight of his fury. "Wait, I'm on your side!"

"A likely story!" the dragon spat, slamming his massive paws down on either side of her body. Lowering his head, he barred dagger-sharp fangs in her face and uttered a growl deep in his chest. "Panther."

"W-wait, I'm…I'm…" the words failed her in her fear. She could only stare in horror at the jaws of death, trapped and afraid. Killed by the very creatures she was trying to help—this couldn't be the way it ended.

"Dragon!" a voice yelled suddenly from behind, and Terra yelped when the dragon standing over her uttered a roar of pain and reared back. She scrambled out from under him as quickly as she could, shooting a furtive glance over her shoulder. The dragon landed back on all fours, pawing desperately at its face, the bolt of a crossbow imbedded in its cheek.

Someone grabbed Terra's upper arm and hauled her upright, and another bolt sliced through the air beside her. It struck the dragon in the shoulder and his shriek of agony hurt both her ears and her heart. Twisting around, Terra saw in amazement that it was a trio of panthers that had come to her rescue. The one gripping her arm tugged her along with more force than was needed.

"Let's get out of here!" he yelled in her ear, just as the ground trembled and jagged stalagmites thrust from the earth with sounds like cannon blasts. Terra yelped and fled, not daring to look back over her shoulder at the earth dragon again. The crossbow-wielding panther fired another bolt before he also turned and ran. The agonised howl of the dragon followed them down the street, and guilt exploded in Terra's heart.

"Sorry…" she whispered under her breath, though she knew the dragon would never hear it.

"Watch yourself," yelled the panther running on her left side. She had never seen him before—just one of the many panthers she had never spoken with. "You almost lost it back there! Can't let your guard down around these brutes!"

Terra nodded dumbly, not trusting herself to reply in case she let something slip—like an indignant exclamation that dragons were _not_ brutes. She followed the trio of panthers through the twists and turns of the streets, always halting and doubling back whenever dragons appeared in their path. It almost felt like they were being herded together, like sharks around a school of fish. The other panthers seemed to notice it too.

"They're doing something funny," one of them muttered beside her, twirling his dagger nervously. "They're not attacking us, just blocking our way. Forcing us to follow this same path. It's like they're leading us somewhere."

Sure enough, the further they ran along this open path, the more they were joined by other panthers that were also being herded in this direction. Soon it was hard to move freely in the streets, there were so many panthers packed together. Terra pushed her way through the throng, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of yellow fur, or even a familiar face. Her brothers had to be around somewhere. Whether she wanted to find them, though, was another thing entirely. And then the streets opened out, the gardens appeared ahead, and Terra realised what was happening.

"The centre of the city…" she whispered to herself, whirling around to find dragons at every possible entrance and exit. Looking up, she saw them circling above as well, like vultures waiting for their turn. "They're trying to surround us!"

It was pandemonium. As the panthers realised they were being herded into a trap, they began to fight back furiously at the walls of dragons. Blood splattered the ground as teeth and claw met scale and fur, and through it all a baritone voice could be heard bellowing above.

"Surround them! Stand your ground!"

For Terra, panic was setting in. She was trapped in a sea of bodies and death, trying desperately to put a stop to the endless fighting. Gripping her stolen javelin, she pushed her way through the disorganised ranks of panthers, begging them to stop, begging them to back down. But every panther she touched shrugged her off angrily or hardly seemed to hear her over the sound of battle. She was jostled and pushed and many times almost ended up on the ground—which might have been a death sentence with so many feet stamping the cobblestones.

No one would listen. No matter how hard she tried. Her words were lost in the noise, her terrified face lost in a sea of angry scowls. She was suffocating, drowning in fear, panic and horror. No one would stop. No one would listen.

_Stop…stop….stop!_

"Why won't you all just _stop?!_" Terra shrieked, throwing her head back as the words burst from her heart. But none of the panthers heeded her. They pushed her aside in their panic to escape the death trap the dragons had herded them into. She was a lost soul among a veritable ocean of vengeful spirits. Unfortunately for her, however, someone did hear.

"What is wrong with that panther?" Nyx hissed in the ear of Steel, her fellow assassin, pausing for a moment in the middle of battle.

"She's lost her mind," Steel replied coldly, sneering at the desperate pantheress as she tried in vain to gain attention. "Battle can do that to the weak minded."

"You should put her out of her misery," Nyx snorted, "before she causes more damage than she's worth."

"You read my mind." With a grin as steely as his name, the assassin raised his precious crossbow and pointed it squarely at the distraught pantheress. He lined the bolt up with her chest, paused for a moment to make sure none of the other warriors were in the way, and fired. The silver bolt flew straight and true.

Or it would have, had it not been for the earth guardian.

Terra couldn't stifle a scream when the massive green dragon slammed paws-first into the ground in front of her, deflecting the crossbow bolt with a flick of his huge, leathery wing. She trembled like a leaf in a gale when Terrador turned his stern green eyes upon her, drawing himself up to full height. Whether he wanted to intimidate her or the other panthers around her, Terra couldn't tell. But he did a good job of both.

"Why are you here?" he demanded and, for the second time, words failed her.

"I…I…"

"Stay close," Terrador boomed, ignoring her lack of answer. "We will have this battle won in no time."

"B-but…they're my tribe!" Terra cried, finding her voice once again as a rush of fear—not for her, but for her tribe—swept through her. Terrador stared sharply at her.

"Do you fight for them?"

"I-I don't…"

"You cannot fight for both sides, young one." His eyes softened ever so slightly, but the steely glint of the war general he was remained. "If they back down, we will let them live."

Terra's heart sank into her stomach. They would never give in. It was not in a panther's nature to back down. But she nodded mutely nonetheless. It was only then that she realised Terrador was not the only dragon who had landed in the middle of the panther ranks. There were several guards fighting around them, holding the panthers back as the earth guardian interrogated her. But they were being overrun by the overwhelming force of black cats and would not be able to hold out for much longer.

"Get on," Terrador boomed suddenly, lowering his body beside her. "It is not safe here!"

Terra knew she didn't have time to deliberate. Trying to ignore the accusing eyes of the panthers that saw, she clambered onto the dragon's back and clung tight as he leapt skyward. The other guards followed, leaving behind only those that had been brought down by the panthers. It took Terra several minutes to find the courage to look down upon the sea of black that was her tribe. From the air it was easy to tell that they were in trouble. The dragons approached them from almost every angle, herding them together into one disorganised mess. They were flanked on all sides.

Terra could not see a way out of this. Not unless they surrendered. And they never would.

But neither she nor the dragons were expecting what happened next.

Down on the ground, there was only one panther in charge. The head of the assassins, Silt, took up the mantle without hesitation. No one hesitated to follow his orders. So when he screamed at them to fall back, no one argued. They backed up together, allowing the dragons to press them in from all sides. Allowing the dragons to think they had won.

But there was a second part to Silt's plan.

"Elemental weaponry to the front!" he roared, and the order rippled through the ranks like waves across a pond. Frantically, the panthers began to rearrange themselves.

Above, Terrador stared down at them in confusion, "What are they doing? They were falling back a minute ago…"

"I…I don't know," Terra agreed, peering over the side. Her head spun when she realised just how high up she was, and she quickly buried her face in the earth guardian's neck.

"Something isn't right," Terrador rumbled. "Seriphos!"

The captain of the guard, standing at the head of the dragons on the ground, whirled around to respond, but he never got the chance. Silt screamed another order.

"Give them hell, panthers!"

A collective war-cry rent the dawn air as waves of elemental magic burst from the front ranks of panthers, colliding with the unsuspecting dragons with devastating effect. Elemental magic that only dragons themselves should have been able to wield. Fire, electricity, ice and earth exploded in the ranks of dragons, pushing them back with unexpected ferocity, and bit by bit, the panthers began to push outward. Screams rent the air like knives.

"Terrador!" Seriphos screamed to the sky in anguish, disbelief written across his features. "They're using elemental magic! This isn't possible! This shouldn't be possible!"

"H-how…?" the earth guardian stammered, flashes of magic reflected in his horrified eyes. A growl rumbled deep in his throat. "You never spoke of such magic, panther!"

"I-I didn't know!" Terra cried, tightening her grip around Terrador's neck, terrified he was going to throw her off. "I swear, I didn't know!"

"What do we do, Terrador?" cried a guard hovering beside the earth guardian. "They weren't expecting this! They'll be slaughtered!"

"We fight back!" Terrador roared, eyes flashing defiantly. "They may have the elements, but never forget the elements are what make us dragons! If they want to fight fire with fire, so be it!"

"Master Terrador!" another guard yelled suddenly, winging his way towards the guardian. "The panthers are overwhelming the guards on the eastern wall! They need back up!"

The guard beside Terrador swung his head to and fro in alarm, staring from the dragons below to the distant eastern wall. "The guard is defenceless split apart like this. We need to regroup or we won't stand a chance. We need to get them all in one spot and drive them out as one!"

Terrador ground his teeth together in frustration, "So be it. Send the message to fall back towards the eastern wall. We will regroup with the rest of the guard and make our stand there. I will not lose this city to those vile creatures. Not in this lifetime."

* * *

At the mouth of a narrow alleyway, cloaked by dark shadows cast by the tall stone walls, a Death Hound paused to taste the air. Its forked tongue slithered out from between yellowed fangs, licking its leathery nose hungrily. Scowling into the darkness, the hound took several steps into the alley, nose twitching eagerly as it sought out its prey. Swaying on the spot, it lowered its brutish head to the cobblestones and took several deep draughts through its nostrils. A low growl rumbled deep in its chest.

Eyes glinting hungrily, its steps grew more confident as it drew further into the alley, following the enticing scent of prey. So close. So near. Saliva dripped from its fangs as its jaws parted impatiently. It could almost hear its prey now—the trembling beating of its heart; its quick, terrified breaths. So close.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the mouth of the alleyway—the furious roar of a dragon, the twang of a crossbow, and a scream cut alarmingly short. Startled, the hound spun around with a dangerous snarl, daring whoever had snuck up behind it to attack. It caught sight of a dark cat at the mouth of the alley, bleeding profusely from a wound in its side. The smell of blood tainted the air and the hound growled with hunger. It could practically taste its next meal, wafting on the breeze.

The panther screamed as the hound leapt out of the shadows of the alley, and there was a crunch as his ribs shattered under the force of the charge. A short, violent scuffle followed, then a gasp of pain cut abruptly off—and then only silence. For a moment, there was no movement from within the alley. But then the shadows shifted hesitantly, and a cheetah stepped nervously towards the alley mouth, hugging the wall. A quick glance was all she needed to take in the scene before her—a dragon lay several meters away, an arrow through his throat, and across the street the hound was crouched over a crumpled mess of fur, its head shaking to and fro as it gorged itself.

Mari felt her stomach churn with nausea and instantly shrank back against the wall, covering her eyes with a paw. Several deep breaths later and she had managed to quell the sickening turning of her stomach. The hound was still preoccupied with its meal, and the cheetah knew this was her only chance to get away from it. Swallowing her fear, she crept as silently as she could out of the alleyway and slipped down the street, back against the wall, never taking her eyes off the back of the hound. She could hear its teeth crunching through bone and flesh alike, and it made both her head and her gut spin sickeningly.

Only when she had slipped around the corner did she turn around and bolt like a deer. Fear and horror leant her wings as she fled down the street, unshed tears clouding her eyes. She could almost feel the putrid breath of the hound breathing down the back of her neck, just as it had done in the alley. An inch more and it would have sunk those horrid, blood-stained fangs into her own flesh. She tried not to think about it. But that only made it worse.

Wishing she was anywhere else but here, Mari staggered around the next corner and skidded to a halt. In front of her, the street was packed with panthers and dragons alike. How she had not noticed the noise, she didn't know. Their screams, roars and war-cries filled the air in an agonizing cacophony of death and fighting. Terrified as she was, the sight of the panthers jogged Mari's overwhelmed mind and she uttered a strangled gasp.

Terra.

Desperation to find her friend replaced her mind-numbing fear, and Mari dashed almost blindly into the field of battle. Dodging around weapons and claws, she cried the pantheress's name desperately, screaming to the wind. But no one answered her cries. It was only the fact that none of the panthers had been expecting to see a cheetah at Warfang that morning that saved Mari's life. Every time one spotted her, they would pause and stare—and in that split second, Mari would disappear, too preoccupied by her search for Terra to notice.

But the word of a cheetah in their midst swept quickly through the ranks of panthers, and soon all were on the lookout for the elusive yellow cat on the battlefield.

Mari had just barely dodged a barrage of ice spears from a particularly enraged and careless ice dragon when her luck ran out. Stumbled over shards of ice left on the ground, she slipped and shouldered into a solid figure with his back to her. She managed to regain her balance quickly, but was not fast enough to avoid the counter strike of the panther she had crashed into. He whirled around in a furious but smooth motion, whipping his weapon out in front of him, and it was only sheer luck that it was the blunt staff that struck Mari across the head, and not the deadly blades on either end.

She yelped as she went down, crashing to the cobblestones harshly as her feet slipped out from under her. Her head almost hit the ground, but she managed to catch herself on her hands just in time. The point where the staff had struck her head—just above her left eyebrow—began to throb, and that eye filled with tears of pain. Twisting around, she felt ice fill her veins as she found herself staring down the length of a deadly sharp blade. The sounds of battle faded around her.

As though in slow motion, Mari's eyes drifted upwards to meet those of her attacker. Olive green—they were filled with all the fury of battle and the readiness to kill. It was just unfortunate that she was on the end of his blade. Her muscles seized up in panic—her mind had frozen, the urge to fight or flee quelled by the knowledge that there was no escape. The blade was at her throat.

She was going to die.

But he did not strike. For what seemed like ages—it could have been seconds or hours—Mari stared at the face of her would-be killer, and he stared back. The fury in his eyes was fading strangely, the blazing eagerness replaced by confusion and conflict. The strange weapon—was it sword or staff?—trembled in his grip, inches from the delicate skin of her throat. And slowly, agonizingly, he began to lower it.

"Get the _hell_ away from her!"

A gruff voice, filled with more fear and anger than Mari had ever heard in it before, wrenched through the silence with all the subtly of a blazing fireball. The blade at her throat vanished and Mari scrambled to her feet, whirling around in a panic. A rush of golden fur flashed past her, and the glint of a giant spearhead, heading straight for the olive-eyed panther.

"Cougar, stop!" Mari shrieked, throwing herself at her cousin. She caught him around the chest, wrapping her arms around him and pushing him back with all her might. He struggled against her; desperate to get to the one who had—in his eyes—almost cost Mari her life.

"I'll kill him. I'll _kill_ him!"

"Stop! You didn't see! He…!" Mari gulped and chanced a glance behind her as Cougar's struggles eased. But the olive-eyed panther had disappeared back into the sea of battle. He was nowhere to be seen. Arms falling to her side, Mari stared at the spot where he had been standing but moments ago.

"He…hesitated."

* * *

Her shriek could have shattered eardrums as it leapt from her mouth, amplified by a cone of wind that blasted through the splintered doorframe and sent all three cats flying. They skidded to a halt near the middle of the burning warehouse, and by the time they had struggled to their feet, Zephira was already stalking towards them. Her violet eyes burned with reflected flames, but even they could not compare to the overwhelming heat of her hatred. Charred shards of wood crunched under her paws, coating her ivory scales in a layer of blackened ash.

Skulk twirled his swords as he rolled his shoulders, looking murderous after his tumble across the stone floor, which was starting to absorb the heat of the fires. Voltage danced up and down his blades, leaping outwards to reflect in his stormy, ocean eyes. They roved over Zephira's frail form as she stalked forward to meet him, a slow, deliberate purpose to her steps. For a moment he thought he remembered tears streaming from those hate-filled eyes. And the bloodied body of a blue dragon.

"Didn't I kill you already?" he asked, almost nonchalantly, cocking an eyebrow. Zephira's entire frame trembled with rage.

"You'll regret that you didn't," she hissed. Their gazes met and held, and Zephira saw the same merciless cruelty she had seen the day her brother died. Blinding fury bled through her veins like molten lava. She was burning up. She was the flames.

Without another word, she charged. Wind danced around her paws, forming into solid blades that whirled and twisted around her legs, creeping up to shield her chest and neck. Her forepaws drummed a murderous rhythm on the burning stone floor, thundering in time with the heavy beating of her heart. It was all she could hear. But all she could see was his eyes as he stood before her, raising his blades to brace for impact. Her high-pitched war-cry left her lips before she had a chance to consciously let it out.

Blades of wind met blades of metal as Zephira leapt and powered into Skulk, driving him backwards several feet. He twisted and pushed with his swords, and Zephira's momentum sent her tumbling over the floor somewhere to his left. She rolled upright without hesitating, emitting a shrill cry and a spear of solid wind that threatened to skewer the panther alive. But Skulk's eyes flashed with defiance and he spun forwards, slashing the air with his blades, severing the spear into slivers of harmless wind before it could reach him. Twisting to face his ivory opponent, he thrust one blade towards her, forcing the twitching tongues of voltage to rush through the air in search of prey.

Zephira screamed as the electricity seized her scales and ravaged her veins, sending waves of agony through her entire body. But her eyes cracked open defiantly and she straightened up slowly, fighting bravely against the voltage dancing over her scars. Spinning in a tight circle, she conjured a sphere of wind that blasted the electricity away in all directions. But it didn't stop there. Expanding rapidly with the force of a hurricane, her sphere of wind struck Skulk in the chest, and no amount of bracing could save him from being hurled backwards.

Not waiting for her opponent to recover, Zephira hurtled across the room towards him, powering through smoke and ash as the flames around them grew ever larger.

As dragon and panther fought, Hunter was engaged in his own tussle. Zephira's first attack had sent him flying along with the twins, but upon landing he had discovered his sword laying barely an arm's length away. Nearby, Skelos was groaning on the ground, clutching his injured arm, two broken arrow shafts still protruding from his dark fur. Hunter didn't wait for him to recover. He scrambled to his feet in an instant, snatching up his blade and backing away from the injured panther.

Only for a moment did he consider attacking. But the idea of killing a downed opponent did not sit right with Hunter. If he was to kill, his opponent had to be fighting until the very end.

But that hesitation almost cost him his life.

Skelos hadn't let go of his staff, and the instant he realised his adversary was back on his feet, he knew he had to strike first or be killed. Twisting onto his back, he swung his staff up with all the strength he could muster and aimed the spirit gem straight at Hunter. A fireball shot from the glowing gem, burning a path through the already ash-chocked air.

Hunter just barely managed to tip his body to the side, feeling the condensed flames sear through his golden fur and scorch the delicate skin of his arm. Groaning, he caught himself on one knee and clapped a hand to the injury, which had been inflicted on his right shoulder, just below the matted wound Skelos's staff had given him previously. Shaking, he pushed himself back to his feet and raised his sword in his wounded arm, breathing heavily.

"Tricky. Attacking even when you're down. I can't say you're not resourceful."

"And you…are a fool for not finishing me while I _was_ down," Skelos shot back, voice taut with pain. His attack had granted him the time he needed to get back on his feet, and now he faced Hunter on even grounds—both wounded, both willing to kill. It was only a matter of who could hold out longest.

"Rest assured I won't make that mistake again," Hunter said darkly. His bow lay forgotten on the floor, surrounded by several arrows that had fallen out of the quiver still strapped to his back. For the moment, the steel in his hand was all he needed to defend himself against this panther.

"I suppose it's time to finish this, then."

Hunter inclined his head, unable to keep from watching Skulk's battle with Zephira out of the corner of his eye. "After you."

Skelos charged at the same time as his twin. His staff met Hunter's sword as Skulk's rapiers clashed with the blades of wind that sprang up to protect their conjurer. Side by side in a perfect rhythm, the four combatants whirled around one another, dodging strikes as often as they performed them. Fed by Zephira's wind, the flames grew higher, wider and hotter as panther, cheetah and dragon exchanged blows, fighting with the strength of their ancestors. Backwards and forwards across the burning stone floor, they danced and weaved, unaware of anything but their opponents.

But the dance could not last forever. Sooner or later, one would slip up—a paw would step the wrong way, an injured limb would fail.

Zephira only let her guard down for a second.

She heard Hunter yell as he barely dodged a spear of fire from Skelos's staff, and half-turned to help him. It was barely an instant, but Skulk took advantage of it all too easily. Slashing through the shield of wind that had been protecting Zephira, he caught the white dragoness a blow to the cheek. His thin blade cut a line from beneath her eye to the base of her jaw before she screamed and jerked away. But the damage was done.

Disorientated and blinded by pain, Zephira tripped over her paws as Skulk kicked out at her. His foot caught her in the ribs and sent her crashing into a burning stack of crates with enough force to splinter the charred wood. Pieces of armour exploded across the floor as the crates shattered, covering Zephira from head to tail. She struggled to get out from under a particularly large breastplate, but Skulk was already upon her, raising his blades to finish the job.

"I'll make sure I kill you, this time," he said with a cold grimace, "and you can join your dear brother in the afterlife."

Zephira's eyes widened and darkened with anger. With a shriek she coated her paws in tangible wind and thrust outwards, just as Skulk brought his rapiers down upon her. Metal sliced through her shields of wind and cut deep into the pads of her paws, but Zephira held her ground, forcing the blades away from her neck with as much strength as she could muster. Voltage jerked angrily from the thin steel and danced furiously through her veins, but she forced her eyes to travel upwards—to meet Skulk's.

"I won't be the one dying today," she said in little more than a whisper.

Across the other side of the warehouse, Hunter and Skelos were matched paw to paw. The cheetah ducked under his opponent's swing and aimed a strike for his ribs, only to be avoided by a quick sidestep. Twisting, he caught the staff on the flat of his blade before it could strike his head and thrust it away strongly. His body was thrumming with the adrenaline of battle and his paws moved almost of their own accord.

Another twist, another strike, another dodge—Skelos was losing speed. The arrows in his arm were slowing him down, and Hunter's wounds were minor in comparison. The panther was getting desperate. And with desperation came mistakes.

Skelos didn't see the tip of the blade before it was upon him. It slashed across his face, tearing a burning line from the top of his eyebrow, down over his left eye, to the centre of his cheek. His scream of agony drowned out even the furious crackling of fire as it burned the warehouse to the ground around them. Staggering backwards, he clasped a paw over his eye, howling with pain as blood began to pool under his palm. It dripped down his face and over his wrist as he kept his hand pressed desperately to the wound, screaming as it burned.

He barely noticed as he was brought to his knees and his staff clattered to the ground beside him. It was his twin's scream that made Skulk falter and glance behind him, though his swords still pinned Zephira to the ground.

"Skelos!"

Turning at the sound, Hunter noticed Zephira's predicament for the first time. Yelling her name, he put Skelos from his mind and dashed towards the pinned dragoness. Behind him, Skelos had stopped howling, one paw still pressed over his eye—but his other was reaching for his staff. Zephira saw it through a haze of smoke and pain.

"Hunter! Behind you!"

The cheetah faltered mid charge and turned—just in time to see Skelos surge back to his feet, and a wave of conjured fire rolled out to meet him. The cheetah dropped to the ground on instinct, trying to avoid the fire that washed hungrily over his fur. It scorched his back painfully, but Zephira's warning had spared him the worst of the attack. He found himself hoping the flames would reach Skulk instead, but they fizzled and died before they even got near him.

Skelos's good eye blazed like fire itself as he strode towards the downed cheetah, still keeping a paw clasped over his face. Blood ran down his face and neck in rivers, and his other paw was gripping his staff so fiercely that the skin beneath his dark fur had turned white. Throughout their fight, Hunter had never seen him look as angry as he did now. Rage rolled off him in waves.

"You _bastard_! You bastard cheetah!" he screeched. "You and your entire tribe will suffer for this! I will make sure of it personally."

"I won't…let you anywhere near my tribe…" Hunter grunted, pushing himself back to his feet.

Behind him, Zephira struggled against the panther pinning her down, still struggling to keep his swords from beheading her. The blades were imbedded deep in the pads of her paws down, and blood was flowing unchecked down the formerly ivory scales of her forelegs. Tears of pain clouded her eyes, but she glared through them. She wouldn't give up.

"Let me up!"

"No, little dragon," Skulk cooed in a voice that was almost as soothing as it was venomous. "You and your cheetah friend will die here. And no one else is here to save you."

But no one was expecting the ceiling to explode.

* * *

While Terrador and the western guard force retreated to the eastern wall to regroup with the guards there, Cyril and Volteer had taken to the skies to survey the battle from above. Despite their arguing tendencies, they worked well together, and many a Dreadwing fell to their experienced claws. They powered through the skies, an unstoppable force of water and electricity, complimenting each other with insults.

"Barbaric, Volteer!" Cyril cried as a Dreadwing fell to the yellow guardian's electricity. "You couldn't have been any less tactical! Just shoot and shock, is that all you can do?"

"If you weren't so distressed, concerned, and troubled with meticulous precision, your allocation of eradication may have the potential to contest my own, Cyril!" Volteer shot back, downing another Dreadwing with a voltage-charged tailblade to the throat.

"Yes, you would like to think you are a better fighter than I, wouldn't you?" Cyril sniffed and peppered a Dreadwing with a barrage of meticulously spaced icicles. It fell with a dying screech to the streets below. "But it is I who has exterminated more of these brutish beasts than you this day, old friend!"

"Your superciliousness reeks almost as much as your pretentiousness and pomposity!"

Twisting around to blast another Dreadwing out of the air with a spray of fine icicles, Cyril spotted something that made the retort he'd prepared die on his tongue. Far across the city, near the western wall, smoke was billowing into the air, so thick it was almost black against the lightening sky. The ice guardian whirled back to his fellow guardian, eyes wide.

"Volteer! There is a building on fire near the western wall!"

The yellow guardian's eyes widened in alarm. "There might be civilians trapped, imprisoned, incarcerated, unable to escape…!"

"Enough with your rambling!" Cyril shot back, already powering towards the smoke. "Turn those words into actions, since you have so many of them!"

Side by side, they soared over the city away from the centre of battle, dodging stray Dreadwings in their path. Volteer was a faster flier, and it was he who reached the burning warehouse first. Though he strained his eyes, it was impossible to see through the cloying smoke and into the building. The crackling of fire drowned everything out, and the guardian had no idea if any innocent civilians were trapped inside, or if it was just an empty warehouse. But he quickly decided it was better to play it safe—if there was anyone trapped inside, they would need his help.

Without waiting for Cyril to catch up, Volteer blasted the already broken roof with a storm of electricity. Pieces of burning wood and charred iron were sent flying in the resulting explosion, and the smoke cleared for a brief instant. In that instant, the electric guardian saw movement below him, and knew there was someone—or more than one 'someone'—inside the warehouse. As Cyril finally caught up, Volteer descended through the shattered roof to assist whoever it was.

"Impatient as usual," said Cyril's obnoxious voice above him, and he felt the ice guardian descend beside him, muttering disapprovingly. "You could have injured whoever was inside…"

The two guardians alighted on hot stone in a flurry of ash and smoke that sent everyone around them into a coughing fit. When the dust cleared, they found themselves standing in the middle of what had apparently been a battle. Hunter and a panther were sprawled on the ground, apparently having been knocked down by the explosion of the roof being torn apart, and another panther was crouched over a wide-eyed Zephira. All four of them looked utterly stunned by the sudden appearance of the guardians.

"Fiends!" Volteer cried suddenly, making everyone jump. "Enemies! Adversaries!"

"Step away from the young dragoness!" Cyril ordered furiously, and when the panther refused to obey, spat an icicle at him. Skulk rolled to the side to avoid it, finally allowing Zephira to struggle back to her feet. She sat back on her haunches, hugging her bleeding forepaws to her chest and breathing heavily, eyes dilated.

"M-Master Cyril…" she stammered.

"What happened here?" the ice guardian demanded, while Volteer rambled on behind him.

"Forgive me, guardians," Hunter said in a tight voice, pushing himself to his feet for what felt like the tenth time in the last hour. "Things escalated quickly. This fool set the warehouse on fire while I was fighting him."

"Did he?" Cyril snorted a frosty cloud of particles from his nostrils, glaring down upon Skelos, who still hadn't removed his hand from his bleeding face.

"It's clear that we're outnumbered," the panther spat back, struggling to stand up. Skulk was soon at his side, slinging his twin's free arm around his shoulders and pulling him to his feet. He glared daggers at the guardians, but even he knew when a battle was lost.

"It would be wise to take our leave now, brother," he muttered quietly, fur prickling under the angry gazes of the two huge dragons.

"If they will let us," Skelos muttered edgily. A sudden shriek permeated the air, and both panthers looked up. Skulk grinned.

"I don't think we have to worry about that, Skelos. A friend of yours seems to have followed these buffoons here."

"What?" Cyril looked up just in time to see the Dreadwing dive through what remained of the roof, sending smoke flying with every beat of its wings. It aimed for the panthers and landed heavily in front of them, ushering a cloud of ash up from the hot floor.

Skulk sheathed one sword and pointed the other at the dragons and Hunter, jostling his twin roughly as he did so. Catching the message, Skelos raised his staff parallel to his brother's rapier, until both weapons were pointed squarely at their opponents. Skulk grinned.

"A parting gift," he said.

"Get down!" Cyril roared as a ball of combined fire and electricity streaked towards them, howling a song of death as it screamed through the smoke and ash. The ice guardian skidded in front of the others, spreading his wings to shield Zephira and Hunter, and breathed a concentrated mist of ice from his maw. The ice solidified into a domed shield just in time to take the brunt of the electrified fireball, but the shockwave was still enough to drive Cyril backwards.

Steam filled the air as the ice was vaporised almost instantly by the fireball, and by the time it had cleared, both the twins and the Dreadwing were gone. Cyril regained his footing and spat an icicle angrily at the ground. It melted quickly under the heat of the fires that still raged around them.

"They got away." The ice guardian sighed. "Oh well, small matter. Come now, we'd best get out of here before this warehouse becomes our tomb."

* * *

The wind whistled tauntingly around them as Drehgarr carried the panther twins away from the burning warehouse. Skulk sat in front, clutching the Dreadwing's feathery neck fur, his rapiers back in their sheaths. Skelos sat behind him, one arm curled around his twin's waist to keep himself from falling, and his other paw pressed against his wounded eye. His staff lay across his lap, held in place only by his elbows, threatening to fall with every duck and swoop of the Dreadwing.

"You couldn't have come at a better time, Drehgarr," Skulk praised, before calling back to his brother. "How's the eye?"

"Not good," Skelos hissed between his teeth, sounding highly unappreciative of the question. Skulk grunted in what could have been sympathy, but was more likely annoyance.

"What's the situation, Drehgarr?" he asked instead, turning his attention back to the Dreadwing.

Drehgarr uttered a high-pitched sort of growl, "Dragons retreat to east wall. Panthers have advent…adva…"

"Advantage?" Skulk offered helpfully, craning his head to look below as they flew over the centre of the city and headed towards the eastern sector. Drehgarr uttered a growl of agreement, which seemed to satisfy the panther. "Good. Soon we'll have those dragons surrounded in their own city, and then Warfang will be ours."

But Drehgarr growled disapprovingly and shook beneath them, prompting Skelos to tighten his grip on his brother. "Dreadwings…suffer. Fall to moles."

"Moles?" Skelos echoed, his one good eye scanning the ground below. But all he saw were panthers and dragons in the streets, none of the furry little cannonballs that the dragons called moles.

A Dreadwing shrieked suddenly from ahead of them, and the twins looked up in alarm to see it fall from the sky, its fur smoking. Then a ball of what seemed to be fire shot through the air towards them, and Drehgarr just barely avoided it. Scowling, Skulk quickly traced the projectile to its source. Lined up along the eastern wall were countless miniature catapults, each manned by a stocky furry creature—moles.

"Catapults," he hissed to his brother, who scowled in annoyance. Another Dreadwing fell to the flaming projectiles only seconds later, tumbling to the ground with a pitiful scream of dying agony.

"I don't understand," Skelos started to say, only to be cut off by a yell from his brother as Drehgarr reeled backwards. A ball of fire—or was it fabric that had been set on fire?—powered through the air towards them, clipping the tip of one of Drehgarr's wings. The Dreadwing reeled sideways and fell several meters, struggling to regain altitude. Skulk's paws tightened on Drehgarr's fur, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Bloody moles!" Skulk roared as Drehgarr recovered and soared back up again, inches away from crashing into one of the taller buildings in the city. Spinning around, the Dreadwing pinpointed the catapult that had almost brought he and his passengers down, and cracked open his jaws. A ball of bright red energy shot from his maw, searing through the open air, until it collided with the catapult in a flash of crimson light. When the light faded, only a thin trail of smoke remained—and the limp body of a mole beside the shattered remnants of his catapult. Drehgarr wheeled away, satisfied.

"Now that that's taken care of…" Skulk muttered, returning his attention to the battle below. As far as he could see, the dragons were being pushed back to the eastern wall by the panthers who had only previously been trapped in the centre of the city. But the more he watched, the more he noticed something else.

"Wait a moment…" his eyes raked the battlefield, seeking out the separate forces of dragons fighting below. "Those dragons aren't retreating… They're trying to regroup!"

"What?" Skelos exclaimed behind him, leaning around his twin to look. Skulk was grinding his teeth in anger.

"We had them separated! They're falling back to regroup, and once they do, our warriors will be trapped against the wall! We can't let them regroup!"

Drehgarr grunted in agreement and dove towards the battle, but another fireball cut the air in front of him and he was forced to swerve to avoid it again. Angrily, Skulk twisted around and guided the Dreadwing to the offending catapult. Another blast of red energy, and another mole was brought down. By now, Skelos was trembling with anger.

"I don't understand!" he exploded. "Why did they set up the catapults unless they had known we had airborne forces?! They should not have known about the Dreadwings, so why set up the catapults? What use could they be against grounded forces? It doesn't make sense!"

"You don't think they were spying on us, do you?' Skulk called back over the roar of wind in their ears. Drehgarr was soaring towards the main throng of panthers now—they had to be told what the dragons were planning.

"Impossible!" Skelos yelled. "We'd have noticed a spy!"

"True," Skulk grunted, his paws tightening around Drehgarr's fur again. "No spy would have been able to slip through our ranks and feed information back to the dragons."

"Unless…" for a moment Skelos was silent, eerily so. Skulk glanced behind him curiously, and saw his twin staring at the eastern wall with his one good eye.

"What is it?"

Skelos didn't respond immediately. The noise of the battle below seemed far away now, utter disbelief rendering all his other senses incapable—just for a moment. He could not believe his eye, but it told no lie as a great green dragon—the earth guardian, if Skelos remembered right—deposited a panther on the eastern battlements. A panther that had been _sitting on his back_. And now she stood at the top of the wall, staring down at the battle below her as the dragons began to regroup and the panthers began to realise the trap. She didn't even move to help. Nor did any dragon move to attack her.

As far as he could see, she was the dragons' ally. Disbelieving fury pulsed through his veins and sweat formed in the pads of his paws.

"Unless the spy was not one of theirs…"

"What do you mean?" Skulk shot back, tearing his eyes away from the battle below to stare at his twin. Skelos didn't take his good eye away from the pantheress on the wall.

"What if the spy was one of _ours_?"

At last Skulk followed his twin's gaze and saw the panther on the wall. His eyes widened then narrowed and he steered Drehgarr towards the wall suddenly, forgetting the battle for a moment. But then Skelos released Skulk's waist and instead placed his paw on his twin's shoulder, squeezing it roughly.

"Set me down on the wall. You need to lead our warriors out of this trap. Let me deal with _her_."

Skulk snorted, "If you'd rather. You always were better at dealing with her than I was."

Skelos's jaw tightened and his good eye turned steely, but he said nothing. As Drehgarr swooped close to the battlements, he leapt from the Dreadwing's back and landed cat-like on the top of the wall, staff in hand. Shaking off the shock of the impact, he straightened up and faced the pantheress, his gaze cold and accusing. She stared in utter shock at him, but behind that, Skelos was certain he could see fear and guilt hiding in her eyes.

She only said a single word, but it was so laced with guilt that it already sounded like a confession.

"Skelos…"

His single eye darkened like storm clouds moving over the ocean.

"Hello, sister."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Hello, you. Yes, you. The one who's reading this. You look lovely today. And you are a wonderful person. Please enjoy this chapter as a token of my gratitude for setting aside time to read this insanely long story. :]**

**27.**

"Oh my god, what happened to your eye?"

Skelos faltered, anger abruptly falling from his face to be replaced by startled confusion. Out of all the things Terra could have said to him in that moment, she chose that? In her eyes, all he could see was guilt masked by the concern of a little sister for her older brother. Feeling strangely bitter, Skelos at last removed his hand from his face and reached towards his belt. He heard Terra gasp at the sight of the bleeding wound.

Resting his staff in the crook of his elbow, he tore a strip away from his jackal-skin belt. Wordlessly, he raised the strip and tied it securely around his head, covering his right eye and the wound along with it. Then, clenching one blood-soaked paw at his side and the other around his staff, he met his sister's horrified gaze.

"What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly, and Terra's gaze abruptly switched from his make-shift eye patch to his accusing good eye. She bit her lip, and Skelos watched that same gaze travel down to the broken arrow shafts still protruding from his shoulder. His clenched paw trembled.

"I'm here to help," she said softly, looking anguished by the state of her brother. "Oh, Skelos..."

"I mean why are you _here_? On this wall!" Skelos demanded, gesturing angrily over the battlements. "Why aren't you down there, fighting with your tribe, fighting for _us_?"

His voice was deathly quiet when he added, "Why were you on the back of a _dragon_?"

If it wasn't for her dark fur, Terra's face might have turned deathly white. "You saw..."

"I saw," Skelos agreed darkly. His eye had darkened with anger again, and over the sound of the battle below he raised his voice. "Tell me, sister, where have you been for the last few weeks?"

Shaking, Terra opened her mouth to respond, but frowned and closed it again. Skelos raised a brow, waiting for her answer. But when she did speak, it was not an answer but a question that passed her lips.

"You didn't notice I was gone. Did you?" she sounded almost accusing, and her eyes left no doubt about that. "You've only realised it now, haven't you? That I haven't been there?"

Skelos faltered, but only for a moment. Eye flashing angrily, he pointed his free hand at her, fur still caked with his own blood. "I'm the one asking the questions here!"

"Skelos!" Terra cried, her eyes suddenly filled with hurt and pain. "What happened to you? The brother I knew would never forget his little sister! I—I knew Skulk wouldn't notice, but I..."

Were those tears in her eyes? Skelos's paw fell hesitantly back to his side, conflicted emotions flashing across his face.

"I thought you would…"

Abruptly, anger flared back up again, and Skelos felt it like white hot fire rising in his veins. His paw tightened so fiercely around his staff that, had it been any more brittle, it might have snapped under the force. As it was, the staff's spirit gem merely flared to life with a crackle, glowing as fierce as his indignant rage. He saw Terra's eyes widen with fear, the fiery gem reflected in their depths.

"Don't try to make it sound like I'm the bad guy!" Skelos demanded, his angry voice creeping to higher octaves. "You deserted your entire tribe! Why else would you be here if you hadn't turned against us? Why else would you have left? I'm the leader of this tribe, Terra! It's my duty to do what's best for them! But I can't be expected to keep tabs on _every_ _single_ _panther_ in the entire tribe! Now stop avoiding the question and _tell me what's going on_!"

Terra shrank back, her frightened gaze flickering uncertainly from her brother's face to the blazing spirit gem mounted on his staff. It cast a dangerous, fiery hue across his dark fur and, in the light of early dawn, made him look strangely unstable. She swallowed nervously.

"Do you really want to know?" she whispered.

Skelos's eyes narrowed, "I already know I'm not going to like the answer. But not knowing whether or not my sister is a traitor is even worse."

Terra couldn't help averting her eyes, "But you won't understand. What I'm doing is for the good of everyone. Including our tribe. I want you to understand, but…"

"There is no excuse for treachery," Skelos growled through gritted teeth. "The dragons are our enemies. They chose to stand between us and Avalar—our birthright. And the instant you chose to stand by them, you turned your back on us. You can't pretend to be on both sides, Terra. Just tell me why. _Why_ have you turned your back on us, if that's really what you've done?"

"Because I need to do what's right!" Terra exclaimed, her wild gaze flying up to meet his eye again. "You refuse to see that what you're doing is wrong! Someone has to set things right, if you won't!"

"I _am_ doing what's right! For _us_!"

"No, Skelos! You are leading us to our deaths and forcing innocent people to fight for things they should not have to fight for! Why do you refuse to see that?! Until you do, I will not return with you! I will stay here with the dragons, with your 'enemies', until you realise that what you are doing is wrong! I will fight for what is right, Skelos! Even if that means fighting against _you_!"

Skelos moved so quickly, Terra barely had time to flinch, but she winced all the same when his blood-caked hand caught her wrist in a vice-like grip. He pulled her closer until they were almost nose-to-nose, and she could see the rivulets of drying blood that trickled down the left side of his face. The fetid smell of his bleeding injuries permeated her nostrils, but her face was too frozen in fear to register disgust.

"What happened to you?" he hissed in a voice that sounded almost hurt. "You're not the little sister I remember. When did it change?"

"You're the one who changed, Skelos…" she whispered back, blinking furiously against the burning sensation in her eyes.

His grip on her wrist tightened painfully, and she couldn't withhold a gasp of pain and shock. The orange spirit gem sparked angrily, like a fire flaring to life, and Skelos's next words were choked with menace.

"Whether we win or lose today, you are coming back with us. I won't stand by and watch a sister of mine fraternise with dragons and cheetahs. And I'm not giving you a choice."

"I won't…" Terra choked out, tugging fruitlessly at her captured wrist. "I won't go with you! I won't let you keep hurting them!"

"They are not your allies, Terra! We are! You will turn your back on them and return to us, or so help me, I'll force you to watch them all die!"

Terra squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth together, thinking a silent apology for what she was about to do. With a wordless cry of defiance, she slammed her free paw into Skelos's chest with as much force as she could muster, striking him only inches from where the broken arrow shafts protruded from his shoulder. His strangled gasp of pain met her ears as he doubled over, and she wrenched her paw from his slackened grip, spinning on her heel. Not daring to look back, she dashed away along the wall, eyes scanning the sky for something or someone who could help.

A flash of yellow caught her eye, and she spotted a large yellow dragon soaring towards the wall to assist the Guard, who had now trapped the majority of the panthers against the eastern gate. But Terra only had eyes for the golden cat perched upon the dragon's back, brown cloak flapping in the breeze. Her voice caught in her throat, but she forced the word from her lips in a strangled cry.

"Hunter!"

Without any clue of whether or not he had heard her, Terra screamed the cheetah's name again and again until her voice was taut and her throat burned. Behind her, Skelos slowly straightened up, wincing as he held a paw to his chest, carefully avoiding the broken arrow shafts in his flesh. His eye burned with anger and agony, and slowly he lowered his staff until the spirit gem was levelled with his fleeing sister's back.

One fireball. That was all it would take.

The spirit gem glowed in response, ready to heed its master's orders, ready to end the life of the fleeing panther. Skelos's paw trembled, his eye fixated on Terra's back. She was a traitor; she had turned her back on him and every single panther in their tribe. Death was the only fitting punishment for treachery.

Just one fireball.

But all he could see was his little sister. Her terrified face flashed before his eyes, and his face contorted in anguish. Slowly, his paw trembling, he raised his staff again. He couldn't do it. Slinging the staff across his shoulders, he gritted his teeth and sprinted after her.

Terra whirled around when she heard Skelos running after her. He caught up to her far too easily, despite his injuries, but that was no surprise. He always had been faster than her. She yelled in defiance as he grabbed her wrist again, and tried desperately to tug away. He was yelling something, face contorted with anger, but she couldn't hear it over the sound of her own wordless cries and the roar of the battle below, which suddenly seemed so much louder. She hadn't even had a chance to see if Hunter had heard her cries.

"Terra!" she heard, but who it was that yelled her name she couldn't be sure. Words of defiance formed on her lips, but she never got a chance to scream them.

Something skimmed through the air between her and her brother, missing Skelos's head by inches, humming a song of death on the wind. Skelos's good eye widened in shock and he staggered backwards, inadvertently releasing his sister. Nursing her bruised wrist, Terra looked around frantically for whoever had shot the arrow that had almost felled her brother. Her eyes settled on a dragon hovering level with the wall—and the cheetah standing upright on his back, another arrow already knocked to his tightly drawn bowstring.

Hunter had heard.

"That was a warning," the golden-furred cheetah called, levelling his next arrow straight at Skelos. "Make one wrong move, and the next goes between your eyes."

Terra felt like her heart was in her throat; she could feel it beating, and yet she could barely breathe. Not only was Hunter here, but the dragon he was riding—she realised now—was none other than the Electricity Guardian. Behind them, circling in to help, was the Ice Guardian himself. And was that another, smaller dragon on the Ice Guardian's back?

Skelos stood rigidly beside her, his one-eyed gaze fixated firmly on Hunter and the arrow that threatened to end his life. Terra glanced nervously at him, holding her breath, terrified that even the smallest breath could shatter the tense stalemate that had just fallen upon them. She knew that look; the look in his eyes. It was the look he always wore when he knew he had been defeated but was reluctant to admit it. The look he had always worn when Skulk had bested him in one of their wrestling matches.

But what would he do? Terra knew he hated to concede defeat. Would he run? Would he surrender? And, more importantly, what would Hunter do? The urge to plant herself between her brother and the drawn bow crept into existence, and she took a hesitant step towards him.

"Stay where you are," Hunter ordered sharply, and Terra froze. The cheetah held her gaze for only a moment before shifting back to Skelos. "And you…drop your staff."

Skelos's scowl deepened ever so slightly, but he made no move to obey, or to speak. His eye seemed to stare through Hunter, rather than at him, and inconspicuously began to flicker from side to side. Only Terra noticed it, and she knew what he was doing. He was looking for an escape.

"Skelos…" she said slowly, almost pleadingly. "Drop your staff… You've lost."

But Skelos didn't even seem to acknowledge that he had heard her. His eye shifted upwards for a brief instant, widened, and then darkened with anger and defeat. He'd seen something. But what? Again, Terra tried to plead with him, but he was now staring firmly at Hunter again, and all of her words seemed to go straight over his head.

"Drop. Your staff," Hunter demanded slowly, forcefully. The bowstring trembled in his grasp.

Skelos smirked ever so slightly and closed his good eye. Then, without a word, he stepped backwards towards the edge of the wall. Terra's eyes widened in alarm and reached out to him.

"Skelos!"

"Stop where you are!" Hunter yelled, and Terra had no idea whether it was directed at her or her brother. She froze. He did not.

"So long, Terra," Skelos murmured, so quietly that she only just caught it. Then, smirking, he spread his arms and tipped backwards over the edge.

Terra tried to scream his name, but only a wordless sound of shock and terror left her lips. Hunter cursed quietly and slackened his bowstring, leaping from Volteer's back to the battlements. Then, without warning, a sudden screech filled the air and a Dreadwing powered up from below on the other side of the wall, one panther crouched on its back, another clutched tightly in its claws. Skelos turned his head and caught his sister's eyes one last time, before the Dreadwing soared upwards to join the rest of its brethren as they fled the Dragon City.

Down below, panthers streamed out of the eastern gate, mercifully given the chance to flee by their dragon adversaries. Skulk had called the retreat. As Terrador had promised to Terra, the retreating panthers were left unhindered as they fled the city, though many of the dragon guards watched them go with expressions that suggested they would have preferred otherwise. As dawn broke, the second battle between panthers and dragons was brought mercifully to an end.

Volteer and Cyril landed heavily on the wall as Hunter moved to Terra's side. The female panther stood rigid, staring after the Dreadwing that had spirited her brothers away. She could still see Skelos's angry, accusing face swimming before her mind's eye. Silently, she cupped a hand over her mouth and sank to her knees. There were no tears. Only dry sobs as she curled in on herself, wrapping her other arm around her midriff and squeezing her eyes shut.

With nothing to say to comfort her, Hunter merely stood by her side, bow in hand, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of battle. Behind them, Zephira lay upon Cyril's back, her bleeding forepaws fastened around his neck. Her expression was carefully guarded as she watched Terra sink to her knees, and she didn't venture a single word. Even the guardians were silent.

At length, Cyril sighed and turned to his fellow guardian, "Volteer, escort these three to the infirmary. I will stay behind to help Terrador and Thasos with the rest."

Unusually subdued, the electricity dragon nodded mutely and assisted Zephira in clambering off Cyril and onto his back. Hunter caught his eye and gave an affirmative nod. Returning his bow to his now slightly lighter quiver, he reached down to grab Terra's shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes dry and haunted, and without a word he crouched down for her to climb onto his back. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and Hunter clasped his paws behind his lower back to secure her.

Then, in silence, he moved to Volteer's side and the small, mismatched procession moved off. At length, Hunter murmured quietly to Terra so that only she heard.

"I told you to stay in the room. I told you to stay safe."

He felt her sag slightly, and it was a few moments before she responded. But all she whispered was, "I'm sorry."

Hunter didn't speak again after that. He didn't have the heart to scold her.

* * *

Though they tried to hurry their goodbyes, it was still late afternoon by the time Spyro and his friends left the swamp. A long flight over the strait led them to the southern shore of the mainland just as the sun was setting, casting bloody hues across the dusk sky. Tired from the amount of flying they'd accomplished in a single day, no one objected to Spyro's idea to stop early for the night. The sand was soft and cooling beneath their paws, a welcome relief to the exhausted dragons. Kazan and Zannak collapsed where they stood, sending particles of sand flying in every direction. The others had more restraint.

"We should find shelter for the night," Cynder said, breaking the silence that had previously only been broken by the heavy panting of everyone around her. Spyro nodded tiredly and stood up to follow, slipping slightly in the shifting sands. Sparx hovered at his side, unspeaking.

"Yeah…you do that," Zannak panted, grinning tiredly at them from his position flat on his back. "We'll just rest here."

"Lazy ass," Flame muttered, nudging Zannak none-too-gently as he passed the downed electric dragon. "Wait up, Spyro, I'm coming."

Kazan made a face and half pushed himself up, as though he wanted to follow. But his exhaustion apparently outweighed his urge to always do better than Flame, as he seemed to think better of it and flopped back down again with a heavy sigh. Zannak reached over and patted his back awkwardly, grinning lazily.

Beside them, Saffron sat down heavily and tilted her head back, taking great gulps of the cool sea air. She closed her eyes against the glare of the setting sun, letting the cooling breeze wash over her sunflower scales. Ember sat down silently beside her and stretched out on her belly, sighing as the cool sand relieved her burning scales.

"Who knew flying could be so exhausting," the pink dragoness said breathlessly, resting her head on her paws.

"I'm just looking forward to a good night's sleep," Saffron admitted, rubbing her eyes with the back of a paw. "I feel like I haven't slept in days."

"That may be because you haven't."

Saffron looked up sharply as Roku approached to sit on her other side. He wasn't breathing as heavily as the others, but there was still an unmistakable tiredness to the way he walked and carried his wings. The electricity dragoness considered him curiously as he sat down.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"We were at the White Isle for a week, were we not?" the black dragon said, glancing sideways at her before returning his gaze to the waves lapping gently at the shore. "Time moves differently there, so the Chronicler said, but now that we have returned to the real world, I suppose we are feeling the effects of those days that slipped us by without sleep."

"I guess so…" Saffron mumbled, staring at her paws. "I do feel like something has passed us by without us noticing…like we've fallen behind. It's strange."

She looked up to see Nadi hesitating nearby, between their exhausted group and the calm movement of the sea. He noticed her looking and, as though it had been an invitation, approached uncertainly. Roku gestured for him to sit, and then lay down on his stomach, curling his paws under his chest.

"You mustn't be as tired, though, huh?" Saffron said to the bronze dragon as he sat down on Roku's other side. "I mean, since you weren't at the White Isle with us and all."

Nadi shook his head, "The flight was tiring, but you all act like you've been flying for days on end, not just for a few hours."

"Hey, it's not like we're weak or anything," Kazan snapped suddenly, hoisting himself half up again and looking irritable. "You try spending a week without sleep in a creepy temple where everything wants to kill you!"

"Kazan, shut up," Saffron yawned, not even bothering to pass him her usual disapproving glance, "he was just making an observation. Nobody said we're weak."

"Yeah…sorry if it came off that way." Nadi shuffled his paws awkwardly, watching the way the sand moved between his talons. Kazan merely snorted and flopped back onto his side, turning his back on the others. A light snore told them Zannak had already fallen asleep.

"Lazy buffoon," Saffron mumbled fondly, reaching over to tussle her brother's crest. "How he falls asleep so easily, I'll never know."

"Maybe…" Ember yawned widely, cutting herself off and exposing her fangs to the world. "Maybe we should follow his example."

"When Spyro gets back…" Saffron mumbled. They fell silent after that, watching the constant movement of the waves as they lapped continuously at the golden sand of the shore. The setting sun cast a ribbon of red-gold light that flickered and danced on the ocean's surface like a snake of blood. For a moment, everything was peaceful and serene.

It was almost half an hour later when Flame returned to tell them that Spyro and Cynder had found a place for them to spend the night. After waking Zannak, which took longer than anyone expected, the tired group followed the fire dragon across the shifting sand towards the dunes. Vegetation grew in large clumps all over the dunes, spiky bushes with fat, juicy green leaves. In a small valley between two large, vegetation-choked dunes, they found Spyro and Cynder sitting around a small campfire.

Too tired to even think about hunting for dinner, the gang collapsed around the fire and soon enough, more than half of them had drifted to sleep. Only Roku, Nadi and Spyro were still awake to see the last of the sun's rays disappear into darkness. The fire slowly dwindled between them, dying down to embers that glimmered weakly in the darkness, put to shame by the countless stars shining brightly above.

Spyro didn't speak much. He merely sat and listened to the quiet whispers between Roku and Nadi, not quite loud enough for him to hear what their conversation was about. Eventually, they too drifted to sleep, and Spyro's only company was the snores of his dragonfly brother, asleep on his head. Spyro sighed and glanced up into the endless night sky. The longer he looked, the more stars seemed to appear, as though they had been hiding in shadow, waiting for him to notice before they truly showed themselves. The red moon, half full, shone dully above him, and far to the east he could see the green moon half hiding behind the tip of a dune. The night was beautiful out in the wilderness.

'_I'd still rather be asleep…'_

The purple dragon sighed and turned his gaze back to his friends, all sleeping peacefully in the sand, some snoring, others silent. He envied them. They could not hear the Chronicler's words repeating in their heads. They could not see the images of past nightmares imprinted forever on their memories. They did not have to worry like he did.

'_If you are to stop this war, first you must win the war that rages inside your own heart.'_

"What if I can't, Ignitus?" Spyro whispered to the stars. "What if I can't defeat it? What if it defeats me? I'm…I'm not who I used to be. No matter how much I wish I was."

An image flashed in his mind, of a dream he'd had not so long ago. That beast with dark scales and empty, glowing eyes. He felt something stir within and shuddered, shaking the image from his head as well as he could. But the memory remained, lurking in the back of his mind; a menacing shadow, waiting to take control.

"How can I…how can I expect to save everyone when I can't even save myself?" He uttered a wistful sigh and looked away from the sky, staring at his paws. Purple scales, made dark indigo by the dim light, stared back at him. He clenched his paws, and watched the grains of sand shift between his talons. "Some hero I am. Even you can't trust me enough to tell me everything…"

Spyro's eyes shifted to Flame at that point, and then to Cynder, as once again he wondered what had transpired behind that closed door. The black dragoness was frowning in her sleep, one of her rear paws twitching every now and then. He wondered what she was dreaming, and if it had anything to do with what Ignitus had told her. He hoped not. It didn't seem like a very pleasant dream, whatever it was.

"I'm scared," Spyro admitted to the night. "If even my friends can't trust me, how can anyone else? How can _I_?"

Shaking his head tiredly, he glanced back at Cynder again and for a moment merely appreciated the way the moonlight glinted off her ebony scales. Somehow, the sight of her always seemed to calm him, no matter how stressed he was. Careful not to jostle Spark, Spyro stood up and crept closer to the black dragoness, intending to settle down beside her so that her warmth might offer him some comfort from his worries. But just as he sat down beside her, his eyes drifted to the satchel she kept fastened around her right foreleg.

He couldn't help but recall the moment in the Dragon Temple only a few days—no, it had been a week—ago, when it had brushed against his leg. There were more than herbs in that satchel, despite what she had told him. But why she would lie to him, Spyro couldn't understand. Cynder would never lie to him. She trusted him. Didn't she?

Hesitantly, Spyro reached a paw towards the satchel, then stopped. Sneaking a look was dishonest; he would wait until she was awake and ask her himself. But the niggling worry remained, and he found himself unable to look away from the satchel. It was still and unassuming against her dark scales, but something about it worried him. There had to be a reason Cynder had kept its contents secret from him.

"It's probably nothing," Spyro mumbled to himself, but his attempts to assure himself were fruitless. Sighing, he reached out a paw again.

'_Just a peek… A peek can't hurt. I'm just being paranoid. It'll be nothing at all, just you see…'_

Cynder was dreaming a strange dream. It had started as a nightmare; she had been lying at the feet of a huge, dark dragon, somehow too weak to move. When she looked up to see the face of her captor, she saw Spyro's face leering down at her—or it looked like Spyro's face. He was larger, and his scales were an indigo so dark they were almost black. His eyes glinted with dangerous intent, and a mocking voice whispered in the back of her mind.

"_All hail the new Dark Master…"_

But then the dream melted away around her, and she found herself lying in a silvery void, surrounded by nothing. A figure stood nearby—a young dragon of some sort—but she could only see his silhouette. Cynder had the strangest feeling she had been here before. On shaking feet, she pushed herself up and tried to approach the shadow of the dragon. But no matter how long she walked for, she never seemed to get any closer.

"_Help him…" _A voice whispered, and somehow she knew it belonged to the silhouette.

"Who? Who am I helping! Please! Tell me!" she cried, breaking into a run. But the dragon never grew any closer, and Cynder had the unnerving feeling that she wasn't moving at all.

"_Help him…"_

"Wait!"

Something thudded into the sand beside her head, waking Cynder with a start. She scrambled onto her belly, panting from being awoken so suddenly from the strange dream. Despite her disorientation, her eyes quickly picked out what had woken her up. She felt her blood turn to ice.

The Poison Claws lay exposed in front of her snout, the empty satchel lying limply beside them. They glinted almost mockingly in the moonlight, and the vivid green lines that sliced down each talon had never looked more poisonous. Heart in her throat, Cynder's eyes trailed from the metal claws to the purple pair of paws beside them, and then up to the face of their owner. Spyro stood over her, storm clouds roiling in his lilac eyes, a look of utter revulsion that she had never seen before contorting his usually handsome face.

"Sp…" Cynder stuttered, but his name died on her lips as she gazed into his furious, accusing eyes. His voice dripped with venom as he spoke—or rather, spat—a single word.

"Explain."

"Spyro, you don't understand…" she started, pushing herself up slowly so that he was no longer standing over her. But she didn't get any further than that before anger spasmed across Spyro's face.

"Don't tell me what I won't understand, Cynder!" he exclaimed furiously, looking angrier than she had ever seen him. Sparx fell off his head with a start and landed in the sand. He lay there, too stunned by the wake-up call to hover back up again. "Just tell me why you have that abominable creation! Tell me why you took them! Tell me why you _lied_ to me!"

Shrinking away from him, Cynder glanced nervously around and saw it was still the middle of the night and the others were fast asleep. Only Sparx had been awoken by Spyro's explanation, and he still looked half-asleep. Gulping, Cynder turned her eyes back to the livid purple dragon.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, bowing her head. "There's nothing else I can say. I shouldn't have kept them from you."

"That's it?" Spyro spat, and Cynder looked up in shock. Spyro took a step closer, curling his lip. "That's all you're going to tell me? I should think that, after how long you _lied_ to me, I deserve to know _why_!"

"I-I was scared to tell you, Spyro!" she exclaimed, trying to keep her voice down. She didn't want the others to awake and see this. "I was scared of how you would react! And you already had enough to worry about! I…didn't want to add to that…"

"So you didn't _trust_ me," Spyro hissed, looking disgusted. "Oh well, maybe you should have thought of that _before_ you took them! But no, instead you're always thinking of yourself! I'm always only an afterthought, aren't I? So what were you planning to do with them, Cynder? Kill me in my sleep once you'd had enough of dealing with my 'problems'? Oh, that seems like something you'd do."

Cynder took a step back, horror washing over her face, "Spyro, I-I'd never…I could never…"

She faltered suddenly, brow creasing, and murmured, "This isn't you. My Spyro would never say something like that. You…"

Her eyes travelled downward and at last saw what, in the dim light, she had failed to notice before. Darkness was travelling up Spyro's limbs, creeping over his scales in tendrils of shadow, turning his former bright violet as dark as the night. Her eyes widened in alarm and she stopped backing up, instead taking an assertive step forward.

"Spyro, stop this! This isn't you! Can't you see what's happening? You need to snap out of it!"

"Don't tell me to snap out of it!" Spyro yelled, dropping whatever restraint had previously been holding him back. "You made me like this! I trusted you! More than anyone! But you've just been lying to me!"

"Spyro, no!"

"Shut up!" he screeched, eyes flashing white for a heart stopping second before returning to normal. "If you can lie to me about this, who's to say you haven't always been lying to me?! Maybe you never loved me! Maybe you just wanted to get close to me so that I would let my guard down and you would have your chance to avenge your old master! Don't think I've forgotten who you are, Terror of the Skies! You've always been loyal to Malefor, haven't you?! You never cared about me!"

"That's a lie and you know it, Spyro!" Cynder shrieked, jumping to her feet. She didn't care who she woke up any more. All she cared about was bringing the Spyro she loved back from this demented state. "I love you more than anything, and you know I do! I've stuck by you through everything, and I will always stay by you! Just snap out of it!"

"Stop lying to me!" Spyro howled, throwing his head back to the night sky in a cry of pure anger and agony. His scales flashed black and he hurled himself at Cynder, slapping her hard across the face with one strike of his paw. The black dragoness shrieked in pain and shock as she was thrown to her side in a cloud of sand. Beside her, Sparx let out a yell and shot up from where he had been sitting stunned in the sand. Around the campfire, a few of the others awoke with a start.

"What's happening?" Saffron stammered, almost tripping over her own tongue in her dazed, half-awake state.

Flame scrambled to his feet, staggering slightly, his tired eyes trying to focus on Spyro. Cynder groaned as she awoke from a brief moment of senselessness and reached a paw up to her burning cheek. She felt a wet, warm stickiness under her pad and knew it was blood. Wincing, her eyes travelled upwards in disbelief. Spyro had never struck her before.

The purple dragon stood over her, panting with fury, his talons buried in the sand and darkness encasing his body. But one look at the terror in Cynder's eyes was all it took to shatter the illusion of bloodlust. Darkness melted from his scales, white light dimmed in his eyes, and he stood shaken and horrified above the dragoness he loved. Around him, his friends who had awoken were silent. Sparx stared at him in disbelief; Flame just looked impassive. But the eyes that scared him the most were Cynder's. He had never seen her so afraid.

Afraid of him.

"I…I'm so…" Spyro choked and stepped backwards, his mouth moving but no words coming out. Cynder raised her head to call his name, but the sight of her blood pulsing from the jagged cuts in her face only sent Spyro's mind reeling. With only a strangled, choking sound, he turned and fled into the darkness among the dunes.

"Spyro," Cynder tried to call after him, but the name caught in her throat and she coughed instead. Saffron was instantly at her side, inspecting the wound in her cheek as around them the others began to awake.

"Someone needs to go after him," Flame said grimly, stepping towards the black dragoness.

"I…" she began, but the red dragon shook his head.

"No. Stay here and let the others take a look at that wound. It's probably not as deep as it seems, but I doubt Spyro wants to see you right now. Sparx?"

"Right behind you," the dragonfly replied, tearing his stunned gaze away from Cynder and flying to Flame's side. Together, dragon and dragonfly hurried into the darkness after the purple dragon. Cynder watched them go almost longingly, guilt and horror eating at her gut.

If only she had listened to Ember.

* * *

The dunes were dark at night, and clumps of vegetation cast strange shadows in the moonlight that, more often than once, tricked Flame into thinking he had seen Spyro. But the purple dragon seemed to have disappeared, as though the sand itself had swallowed him up. With only Sparx as light, the red dragon crept through the dunes, slipping in the unstable sand, searching everywhere for his purple friend. After some time, Flame decided his best course of action was to get up high so that he had a better view of his surroundings.

He chose the tallest dune nearby and, with Sparx hovering nervously at his head, began to climb. It was slow going. The sand shifted and fell away under his paws, and several times he found himself slipping backwards until he managed to dig his claws in and brace himself. By the time he reached the crest of the sand hill, he was panting and his limbs were burning. For a moment he envied Sparx and wished his own wings weren't so sore from his previous flight that day.

From the top of the dune, Flame could see for miles in every direction. Over the tops of the dunes he could see the ocean, still as glass in the near distance, the red moon reflected in its mirror-like surface. Behind him, the dunes continued as far as he could see, though he knew, beyond them, lay a large sprawling forest. For some time, the fire dragon stood rigid atop the dune, gazing down into the crests and valleys around him for any sign of Spyro. But the shadows of night made the task almost impossible.

"See anything?" he grunted to Sparx after a moment. The dragonfly frowned and pointed down to a small valley between two smaller dunes.

"I though I saw something move. Could have just been a shadow, though."

Flame grunted in response and started down the dune towards the spot Sparx had pointed out. "It's all we've got. Come on."

Going down was easier than climbing up, as Flame soon found out. He slipped and slid all the way down the side of the dune, but it took all his concentration not to trip and roll the rest of the way. He didn't fancy a tumble in the sand, especially if it left him with a mouth full of grit. Nevertheless, he reached the bottom without any mishaps and continued on his way, wading through sand so loose he sank up to his ankles.

Eventually, Sparx pointed sharply and whispered, "Over there."

Halting, Flame squinted into the darkness at a large clump of vegetation near the crest of a small dune. At first he saw nothing but shadows, but then a cloud moved from over the moon and he caught a glimpse of a figure huddled under the vegetation, unmoving. Beckoning Sparx with a wing, Flame crept as silently and stealthily as he could towards it. There was no mistaking Spyro by the time he got closer; the purple dragon's head was hidden under his paws, his hind legs tucked tightly against his undercarriage and his tail curled securely around him. He didn't look like he wanted to move any time soon.

Flame sighed and stopped trying to sneak up on him. Standing tall, he approached Spyro with purpose in his strides. The purple dragon didn't even look up to acknowledge him.

"What the hell, man?" Flame said suddenly, more exasperated than annoyed. Spyro's head shot up in surprise and Flame saw speckles of sand stuck to his muzzle and cheeks. He wondered if he had been crying.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Spyro asked, shuffling further away from Flame and further into the vegetation. Sand fell away beneath him, and he slipped back into the position he'd been in before. "Leave me alone."

"Not a chance, dumbass," Flame scowled. "Either you're coming back with me or I'm staying here. So get your ass in gear or I'll do it for you."

"Er, what he means is…" Sparx faltered, looking disturbed by his brother's distress, "um…we're waiting for you? Come on, dude, she-dragon's probably worried about you."

Spyro turned his face away, "I don't deserve to see Cynder again. Not after what I did. She…she wouldn't want to see me."

"Oh jeez," Flame snorted and rolled his eyes, stalking over to the prostrate purple dragon. "Cut the self-pity crap and get back to your feet. No one likes a downer. Quit wallowing, you look pathetic."

Normally the insults would have sparked something, if only an indignant outburst, but Spyro merely averted his eyes and murmured, "Just leave me be. I don't deserve to have friends. I'm a monster…"

"Oh, for the love of…" Flame snarled and lurched forward, digging his claws into Spyro's shoulders and dragging the purple dragon around to face him. Spyro's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't try to struggle against his friend's vice-like, almost painful grip. Flame's eyes flashed with anger.

"Fight me."

Spyro stared, but only for a moment. As though unable to hold his friend's gaze, he lowered his face and turned his head away. "I'm not going back, so just go."

Flame's teeth ground together with an almost audible crunching sound. With one fluid movement, he released Spyro's shoulders and slammed his paw into the purple dragon's cheek. Spyro's head jerked to the side and his eyes snapped wide in surprise at the sudden pain. Sand slipped beneath him, disturbed by the abrupt action, and both dragons slid several feet to the bottom of the dune. Spyro floundered in the sand, trying to find his feet, but Flame kept his balance and stood over him like a furious, fiery sentinel.

"I said _fight me_!" he roared, slamming his paw into Spyro's face again. The force pushed Spyro against the side of the dune, blinding him with a face full of sand. Coughing, the purple dragon staggered unsteadily to his feet and tried desperately to paw the sand from his eyes.

"Hey, hey!" Sparx yelled, waving his tiny hands furiously. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Ignoring the dragonfly, Flame snorted a puff of smoke, lowered his horns, and rammed Spyro straight in the chest. A strangled yelp left the purple dragon's chest and he hit the sand on his stomach, still blinded by tears and grit.

"Get up and fight, weakling!" the fire dragon demanded. Spyro raised his head groggily, tears streaming from his irritated eyes, washing the grains of sand down his cheeks. He stared at Flame with a mixture of shock and fear, stunned by his friend's sudden aggression.

"Wh-what are you…?" Spyro choked out, spitting sand from his mouth as again he rose to his paws.

"Stop talking and fight!" Flame screamed, charging across the narrow gap between them with horns lowered. Spyro barely had time to lower his own horns before the red dragon struck. Golden horns met golden horns, and the purple dragon was pushed back several feet by the force of Flame's charge. Locked together, they pushed with all their might, but Spyro's half-hearted attempt to defend himself was all too easily overpowered by Flame's ferocity. His back paw slipped and he found himself sprawling on his side, Flame leering over his prone body.

"Quit it!" Sparx yelled, flying in to intercept the red dragon. He wrapped his twig-like arms around one of Flame's horns, trying desperately to pull him back, though even he knew such a feat of strength was impossible.

"Stay out of it!" Flame snarled, tossing his head so fiercely that Sparx was sent flying into the nearby dune. Sand tumbled over the dragonfly, who flailed desperately to get free before he was buried.

"Sparx!" Spyro cried, jumping to his feet in alarm. He turned furious eyes on his friend and rival, despair suddenly replaced by anger. "Leave him alone! What's gotten into you?"

"Why don't you ask yourself that?" Flame shot back, and once more the two dragons locked horns. This time, however, Spyro put up more than a good fight. Overpowered by the purple dragon's strength, Flame felt himself slipping backwards in the sand, and jerked his head hard to the side in an attempt to throw his opponent off balance. Spyro staggered and freed his horns from the deadlock, barely managing to keep his balance.

But then Flame's forepaws, suddenly encased in flames, slammed forward into his chest and sent him sprawling. The flames dissipated almost instantly, unlike Kazan's, but the job had already been done. Flame stood panting over his stunned rival, eyes blazing with the glow of battle. Spyro stared up at him, stunned and out of breath. Behind them, Sparx managed to extract himself from the sand and hovered forwards nervously, brushing himself off.

"Grow up!" Flame snarled in Spyro's face, his fangs only inches from Spyro's snout. "So you get angry and lose your shit a few times, so what?! How many times have you seen me lose my shit?! Maybe you even remember the time I, oh, I don't know, almost _killed_ Ember?! And you still welcomed me back with open paws! Just because you slapped your dragoness in a fit of rage doesn't mean you deserve to be outcast! Just because you lose your shit when something bad happens doesn't make you a monster! So stop wallowing in self-pity, grow a pair, and come back and apologize before I drag you back myself!"

He leered at Spyro's stunned face, "And don't think I won't do it."

"I…" stammered Spyro, mouth half-open, too stunned for words. Sparx flew forward, wringing his hands.

"Hey, whoa, whoa," he said to Flame, holding his hands out to placate him. "Don't you think that's a little harsh? Give the guy some space!"

"Shut up, Sparx," Flame growled warningly, glaring at the dragonfly out of the corner of his eye. "He needs to hear it from someone who won't sugar-coat it like Cynder does. Yeah, I know she acts all lovey-dovey to get you to snap out of it—"

"Actually, I've seen her get pretty snarky with him…"

"Sparx! Shut up!"

"Right, right, whatever, just trying to help…"

Flame snorted, "Cynder might treat you like you're made of glass, but you're not going to get any of that from me. If I have to beat you to a bloody pulp just to get some sense into that thick head of yours, I'm gonna do it. And if you've got a problem with that, you need to grow up and realise it's not always about you. Your self-pity act gets pretty tiring after a while."

"Hey, I'm getting pretty tired of watching you _abuse_ my brother," Sparx began, looking indignant, but Spyro cut him off. Flame stepped back slowly, allowing the purple dragon to sit up.

"No, Sparx, he's right." Spyro sighed and rolled onto his belly, his eyes downcast. "Whenever this happens, I just get so caught up in my own self-loathing, I forget to think about how it affects you—my friends. It's just that…I've never hurt Cynder before. Not like that. I…it scared me. I-I don't want to lose control like that ever again…"

"It'll be alright, man," Sparx said uncertainly, resting a hand on Spyro's horn. "She'll forgive you. I mean, it was kinda scary, but not like it's something we've never seen before, right?"

He grinned half-heartedly, but Spyro only glanced at him, guilt displayed all too clearly across his face. Sparx's weak smile faded and his shoulders drooped.

"Right… Probably not the best thing to say."

"Look, let's just head back, alright?" Flame suggested irritably, glaring pointedly at Spyro. "The others are probably worrying about us. And don't try to avoid it, Spyro. The best thing you can do right now is apologize."

"I know," Spyro mumbled, standing up unsteadily. "No matter what she did, she didn't deserve what happened. I just wish I didn't lose control so easily…"

"Speaking of which," Flame interrupted, following Spyro back through the dunes towards their camp, "what _did_ she do to make you lose it?"

But a dark look crossed Spyro face, and he only answered, "I don't want to talk about it right now."

Flame frowned but didn't press the matter. "Whatever, man. Just don't hold a grudge for too long. Chronicler said we needed to stick together if we're gonna get this done. And I'm just saying, a rift between you and Cynder wouldn't be the best thing right now."

"I know."

Shaking his head at Spyro's short, elusive answer, Flame went silent and fell into step beside the purple dragon. Sparx led the way back to camp, his pale yellow glow their only light in the darkness.

Cynder looked up sharply when the sound of sand crunching under two sets of paws approached from out of the shadows. For a moment she looked worried, until Flame, Sparx and Spyro came into view. Relief swept across her features. Silently, she stood up and padded over to meet them, but her eyes were only on Spyro. Flame respectfully stepped aside, but Sparx remained hovering anxiously above them, glancing from one to the other nervously.

In the light from his dragonfly brother, Spyro could see that the cuts on Cynder's cheek had been cleaned, and they looked much shallower than before. He quickly averted his eyes from the injury, however, trying to ignore the sensation of guilt burning his insides. Cynder considered him unsurely, and Spyro saw both concern and guilt in her eyes. He sighed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Me too," she replied. A half-hearted smile tweaked Spyro's mouth, but it was barely there and faded after only a second.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked softly, so softly that only she heard. The black dragoness bowed her head.

"There was nothing to forgive. That wasn't you. But…how can I ask you to forgive me? I…I shouldn't have lied to you."

"No. You shouldn't." Spyro swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away. Nervously, Cynder searched his face for answers, but it was hard to read his expression in the dark. After a moment, he spoke again in uncertain tones. "I am…still mad at you. I really thought…you trusted me enough to tell me anything. I never thought you'd lie to me about something like this."

Around them, most of the others looked at each other in confusion. Only Ember seemed to understand, her expression impassive as she watched. Cynder nodded slowly, glancing down at the satchel that had been returned to its place on her foreleg. The Poison Claws were again hidden within.

"I was just afraid," she admitted. "But I should have told you. Nothing could have been worse than you finding out this way. I was such a fool. Ember told me to, but I…I didn't listen."

"She knew?"

Cynder glanced almost apologetically at the pink dragoness, "She found out by accident. I made her promise not to tell. Don't blame her."

Spyro sighed. "I won't. But…I just need to understand why you took them. They are weapons made for death and death alone. Maybe _he_ wasn't evil himself, but they were. What else were they made for if not to kill? And why would you take them?"

"I wish I knew…"

Spyro faltered, staring at her with disbelieving eyes, "You…don't know? You mean you don't even have a reason for taking them?"

Cynder smiled half-heartedly, "Seems stupid, doesn't it? But it just…happened. I can't explain why or what made me do it, it just happened. You can imagine just how much I wish I hadn't taken them. I wish I could just throw them away and never think about them again."

"I wish it was that easy," the purple dragon mumbled, shaking his head. "No, they're too dangerous to abandon. We could try to destroy them, but I don't even know if that would work. Keep them with you for now. Perhaps we'll find the reason for why you did take them. There's nothing else we can do."

"I understand. And…I'm sorry."

"I know."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Those who had no idea what was going on exchanged glances and confused shrugs, but no answer was forthcoming. Eventually, Ember stepped forward and broke the silence.

"I think it's time we all went back to sleep. We're tired and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

There were nods and mumbles of agreement from everyone as they returned to their places around the dead fire. Annoyed by the cold, Kazan spat a tiny glob of flame at the charred pile of wood and watched it take hold, washing the group with dim light and warmth. Saffron nestled down beside her brother, resting her head on his shoulder. Ember nodded to Spyro as she stepped past, beckoning Cynder with her. The two dragonesses lay down together, but not before Cynder shot the purple dragon one last apologetic glance.

Flame moved to Spyro's side and jerked his head towards the campfire, "Come on. You need to sleep."

"You're telling me," Sparx yawned. "Too much excitement for one night… I'm beat."

Flame rolled his eyes and plodded over to take up his own spot in the sand. Spyro followed soon after, settling down near his fiery friend. Solemnly, he laid his head on his paws and stared into the weak flames dancing eerily in the campfire. Eventually, his eyes drifted shut and he fell at last into welcome sleep.

* * *

It was a solemn but refreshed group that left the southern shore the next morning and flew inland towards the Midnight Mountains to the west. No one spoke much, and most minds were still on the commotion that had occurred the previous night. That morning, before they had left camp, Cynder had explained to the others about the Poison Claws. She was glad none of them held her actions against her, but all the same, guilt stayed heavy in her gut, and Spyro seemed distant from her. Not that she could blame him.

By midday, something came up that took most of their minds off the previous night's endeavours—hunger. Having not eaten since early the previous day, most of them were feeling the uncomfortable effects of an empty stomach. And, in some cases, it made them unusually snarky.

"Quit flying in my slipstream!" Kazan snapped at Flame suddenly, after no one had spoken for at least an hour. The red dragon raised an eyebrow at his irritable rival.

"It's a free sky. I'll fly where I want."

"It bugs me!"

"Your _face_ bugs me, but you don't hear me complaining."

"Alright, boys, that'll do," Ember sighed exasperatedly. "Honestly, you're worse than dealing with hatchlings."

"Yeah, but you love hatchlings," Flame shot back with a sultry grin.

"So much more than I love dealing with you," Ember deadpanned, fixing him with an impassive stare.

"Ouch," Kazan whispered gleefully, eyes dancing with cruel amusement. Flame glowered.

"I'll give you something to say 'ouch' about, tough guy."

"Bring it, I dare you."

"Can we stop arguing and find me some food?" Zannak cut in suddenly, rolling over in midair and almost knocking Kazan out of the sky. "I'm dying here!"

"Bozo's right," Saffron piped up. "These two hatchlings are just grumpy because they haven't had supper."

"There's a lake down there," Spyro called over the sound of Kazan and Flame trying to stutter a retort at the same time. "Should we stop?"

The unanimous decision was to take a break for lunch, so Spyro led them all down to the lake he had spotted. It was surrounded mostly by a sparse array of trees, and there was tough grass under their paws when they landed. Most of the others took off almost immediately to find their own prey, but Spyro lingered by the lake, stretching his legs and resting his weary wings. He was quick to notice that Cynder had also stayed behind, and she was lingering uncertainly in the corner of his vision.

"Aren't you going hunting?" she asked suddenly, padding over to him. Spyro glanced at her briefly before averting his eyes.

"I guess…"

He heard Cynder sigh. "I'll do what I can to make it up to you, Spyro. I just wish you wouldn't close off to me like this."

For a moment he was silent, staring into the murky water at the edge of the lake. Dark shadows told him there were fish, or possibly eels lurking amongst the reeds. But he could sense Cynder still standing nearby and knew she was waiting for an answer. He didn't look at her when he replied.

"I just need some space for a while, Cynder. Please."

He could almost sense her hesitating. Eventually, he heard the sound of her turning away, and then her voice broke the silence again.

"Alright. But I won't stop until I've made it up to you. I abused your trust, it's only right I do what I can to earn it again."

Then, with a beat of her wings, she was gone. He was alone.

Spyro stood at the edge of the lake for some time, pondering her words. He wanted nothing more than to forgive her, but the knowledge that she had lied to him—about something so dire no less—still sent uncomfortable feelings roiling in his stomach. Did she not trust him enough? If she didn't trust him, and Ignitus didn't trust him, who else was there to turn to?

"How can I trust myself when no one else will?" he mumbled bitterly, clawing half-heartedly at the surface of the lake. Algae caught in his talons and he shook it off irritably. No one answered his question; even the wind was silent.

Scowling, Spyro raised his head again and stared across the lake. He froze.

On the other side of the lake, another dragon was staring back at him.

It took only a moment for him to take in this dragon's appearance. He was young, about Spyro's own age, if not younger, and his scales were a dull, pale grey. Ivory horns curved from the back of his head, and a pair of icy blue eyes stared intently into his own.

_So familiar…_

Spyro wanted to cry out, but all sound caught in his throat and he uttered nothing. Staggering, he spread his wings, intending to fly across the lake and confront this grey dragon. Then he looked again, and the dragon was gone. Stunned, Spyro scanned frantically for any sign of him amongst the trees, the reeds, even in the lake. But there was no trace of the grey dragon.

It was as though he'd never been there at all.

Shaken and unnerved, Spyro searched the lake's perimeter for almost a quarter of an hour, desperate for any sign that he hadn't imagined the grey dragon. But there was nothing—not even a paw print or a broken blade of grass. At length, he found himself back where he had started and sat down with a bump, staring blankly across the murky surface of the lake. No dragon stared back at him.

"Why…?" Spyro whispered. "Are you haunting me now?"

* * *

Defeat.

It was the ugliest of words and one Skelos found he was becoming all too familiar with. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and a strange, hollow feeling in his chest, as though something had been torn out and tossed aside. He was oh-so familiar with failure, but at this magnitude, it was like a knife being driven straight through his ribs. But maybe it was not so much the loss of the battle that had forged this feeling, but the loss of his sister. Even his physical injuries—and Burdock had warned him that he may never see out of that eye again—paled in comparison to the pain of her betrayal.

There was a time, not so long ago, when he had trusted his little sister more than anyone. Even his own twin. They had been closer than close, even though they did not share the same mother, and there was no other panther Skelos would have traded for his precious little sister. She had been like his shadow, following him everywhere he went from the moment she could walk. For almost as far back as he could remember, she had been there, loyal to her older brother no matter his actions.

When had that changed?

When had he forgotten her, and left her to dissolve into the crowd of faces whose names he could never remember?

Where had his little shadow gone?

Now his sister had allied with his enemies, and countless panthers lay dead in the streets of the Dragon City. They had followed his lead to their deaths, and she had betrayed them all. She had betrayed _him_.

With a howl of agony and unrestrained anguish that cracked in the middle like a thin blade put under too much stress, Skelos slammed his fist into a nearby tree. Bark splintered under the force of the blow, and his knuckles buckled and threatened to shatter, but he hardly felt it. Shoulders shaking uncontrollably, Skelos drew back his paw and slammed it forward again with as much force as he could muster. His knuckles screamed in pain and chips of bark embedded themselves in his flesh. Again, he drew it back and slammed it forward.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

There was a warm wetness on his cheek beneath his good eye, but he didn't acknowledge it. Countless times, as though stuck in an agonised loop, he slammed his fist into the trunk of the tree until blood ran between his fingers and dripped down his wrist. Then, shoulders convulsing fitfully, he rested his forehead against the tree and was still. His bandaged shoulder throbbed and, with a sigh, he allowed his tensed muscles to relax.

"Are you trying to break your fist?"

Skelos grunted and opened his eye. Only the damaged bark of the tree met his gaze, but he didn't need to turn around to know who had spoken. Even if, for some bizarre reason, he was unable to recognize his twin's voice, there was no mistaking the presence that lingered behind him. Skulk always did have that distinct commanding aura around him. But this time, Skelos didn't bother giving him an answer.

He heard Skulk sigh impatiently, "Ever since we got back you've done nothing but act like a pathetic kitten that lost its dinner. Is that what a minor defeat is going to do to you every time, brother?"

Skelos's injured hand twitched and curled into a fist again, but he didn't turn around. It was true that he'd been unable to get the defeat at Warfang and subsequent betrayal of Terra off his mind since they had returned to the edge of the plains that had become their home away from home. He'd sat sit long enough for Burdock to examine his eye, but otherwise had spent the last hour pacing to and fro, an increasingly morose expression on his face. Now, it seemed, he'd decided to take those feelings out on a tree.

"What did Burdock say about your eye?" Skulk tried moments later, abruptly changing the subject.

Skelos grunted and answered without turning around. He didn't want to face his brother right now. "The eye itself was lucky. The wound missed the pupil and iris. There might be scarring, but I should be able to see fine…if it will open again. Burdock couldn't tell, but he said if the muscle was cut…I might not be able to move my eyelid again. It will stay closed."

"Well…at least it might improve your looks."

Skelos sighed. Whether this was his twin's bizarre way of cheering him up or not, he couldn't tell, but right now he wasn't in the mood for it. "What do you want, Skulk?"

"I want to see you stop moping like a pathetic weakling over _one_ little defeat." Straight to the point. He always was.

Skelos pried himself away from the tree and at last turned to face his brother, good eye blazing angrily. There were track marks down his cheek where tears had dried, and blood was still drying on his wounded hand. Skulk wrinkled his nose in disgust at the state of him.

"Don't you get it?" Skelos snapped, still brimming with fresh anguish. "We lost, Skulk! Even after we thought we'd finally gotten the upper hand, we still lost! Even with the Dreadwings, the Death Hounds… Even after all the trouble we went to, we still lost! We can't win against them! And she…she _betrayed_ us. Maybe she was right to do so. This whole endeavour was a failure from the start."

Skelos's voice caught in his throat and he looked away, glaring angrily at a point somewhere far in the distance, "Father was right."

"_Father_ was a weakling," Skulk snapped, looking furious. "We've already accomplished more in six years than he did in his whole life as the leader of this tribe! He was soft, weak and too stuck on tradition!"

"At least he didn't lead everyone to their deaths!" Skelos yelled, whirling on his brother again. "He was a good leader! He was loved! I wish…I wish he was still here. He would have known what to do…"

Skulk snorted in disgust, "You know as well as I do that we'd have never left the Badlands if we'd let him live. His death was necessary for—"

"What…?"

Skulk faltered, surprised that his brother had cut him off so suddenly. Skelos was looking at him strangely, a confused, almost distrusting look on his face. Skulk frowned. "What?"

"What you said…" Skelos said slowly, and it seemed he was fighting to keep his voice steady. "Let him live? Father's death was an accident."

Skulk's mouth fell open, "You're joking."

"He fell horribly sick overnight and died the next morning," Skelos said through clenched teeth. "Isn't that what you told everyone?"

"I told everyone that to protect us!" Skulk exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you telling me you didn't know?!"

"Know _what_?!" Skelos hissed. "I didn't realise there was something you weren't telling me, _brother_. How did father _really_ die?"

Skulk gaped, for once in his life robbed of words. His twin stared him down furiously, daring him to speak. He knew what to expect. Spluttering, Skulk at last managed to force words from his lips. "I thought…I thought you knew! I did it for us! If I hadn't…!"

"Did _what_?" Skelos shrieked, and several nearby panthers looked nervously towards the twins.

"It's not hard to guess!" Skulk roared back, throwing his arms out angrily. Skelos's paws clenched and trembled, and the dried blood on his hand cracked.

"Say it! Say it out loud!" he ordered with as much authority as he could, though his voice cracked at the end.

Skulk's voice dropped dangerously, and Skelos knew he didn't want the rest of the tribe to hear. His next words were calm and emotionless. "I killed him."

_Crunch._

Skelos's fist met Skulk's face, snapping his head to the side, and suddenly both of them struck the ground with a dull thud. Skulk flailed wildly under his twin brother, attempting to land a blow that would throw him off, but Skelos was stronger. Fire blazing in his eye, he drew his paw back and struck Skulk across the face again and again. His twin shouted and kicked, grabbing blindly for Skelos's wrists before one of his wild punches could shatter his muzzle. A short wrestling match prevailed until Skulk managed to flip his brother over onto his back.

Both twins struggled to get up, but Skelos leapt on Skulk before he could scramble away, pummelling every inch of him he could reach. Over and over each other they rolled, biting, kicking and punching, yelling their anger to the wind. Panthers all around watch them in amazement, shocked by this display of immaturity from their leaders. Dust and grass flew everywhere as they tussled.

Nearby, Silt spotted the argument and half stood up to put a stop to it. But a paw fell on his shoulder and he turned around to find himself facing the oldest of the Elite Guard. Agra shook his head, his dark eyes calm and emotionless.

"You may be their right-hand," said the older panther darkly, "but I have known them longer. Such displays are normal for them—they are twins, after all. Let them fight."

Silt hesitated, glancing from Agra to the fighting twins, but eventually nodded and sat down, defeated. The assassin had never seen his leaders act like this before. It was unsettling to say the least. But, to their relief, and that of the panthers around them, it didn't last long.

Skelos had always been physically stronger, and so it was that he eventually pinned his brother to the ground, one fist raised and a look of utter anguish on his face. Skulk stared up at his twin in anger and amazement, blood in the corner of his mouth and a cut above his bruising left eye.

"Why?" Skelos whispered, voice catching. "Why did you kill him? Why did you never tell me?!"

"I thought you knew!" Skulk growled, then turned his head and spat a glob of blood from his mouth. Grimacing, he reach up a paw to wipe the blood from his lip, but only succeeded in smearing it across his dark fur. "I told everyone he'd fallen sick to protect us, but I never thought you'd believe it! I thought you'd figured it out!"

"But why did you do it? Father was getting old! He was going to retire and hand over leadership to us! What good came out of killing him? Just _why_?!"

"Because if I hadn't we wouldn't be the leaders of this tribe!" Skulk exclaimed. Skelos faltered, his fist falling back to his side.

"…What do you mean? Of course we…"

Skulk's throat bobbed nervously as he gazed up at his twin, "_We_ wouldn't be. One of us…one of us would have been left behind. You know that."

"I…" Skelos stared, his mouth open but words refusing to come out. Skulk took that chance to keep talking.

"Father was always too hung up on tradition. There has never been more than one leader at a time, twins or not. He would have chosen only one of us. I…I had to. I couldn't let him split us up. We are a team, Skelos, always have been. You know one can't survive without the other. But he wouldn't have let us. Don't you see? I had to…"

For a long time, Skelos was silent, his eye staring unseeing into those of his twin. Skulk trembled beneath him, pinned to the earth, hardly able to move. For once he found himself unable to read his brother's emotions, unable to see what he was thinking. That unnerved him more than he cared to admit. But he managed not to shout when Skelos drove his fist into the earth just beside his head.

"Father…was a good panther," Skelos said breathlessly, shaking so badly that it seemed only the fist pressed into the ground beside Skulk's head was keeping him upright. "He didn't deserve to die. But if it was necessary for us…that's the way it is."

"You're not angry?" Skulk asked carefully.

Skelos looked away as he got to his feet, as last letting his brother up. "He wouldn't have wanted us to fight."

Skulk got to his feet slowly, trying not to wince at his new set of bruises and cuts. He brushed the dust and grass of his tunic as nonchalantly as he could, and was pleased to see the other panthers were giving them a wide birth. Hopefully that meant they hadn't actually heard what the argument had been about. It would be better that way. Although, even if they found out now, not much could change. They were already the leaders of this tribe, regardless of how they had come to that position. And they were respected—and feared, Skulk reminded himself—too much for that to change.

"Don't make decisions like that on your own next time," Skelos grunted, folding his arms over his chest. His tunic had almost been torn off his shoulders during their tussle, and there was a large rip in the fabric near his left shoulder which had already been damaged by the arrows previously. His voice was bitter. "I've had enough betrayal for one day."

Skulk sighed, "We can find a way out of this. So Terra has betrayed us and we lost to the dragons again… It doesn't mean we can't recover."

"How do you figure?" Skelos asked bitterly, licking a bloody cut on his lip. "If there's anything today has taught me, it's that we simply cannot defeat dragons in a full scale battle. They're too strong and we just don't have enough."

"Then I guess full scale battles aren't the answer…"

"Master Skelos! Master Skulk!"

Surprised by the interruption, the twins turned to find one of their warriors standing stiffly to attention in front of them. He looked nervous, perhaps because he was speaking directly to his leaders. Or maybe whatever he had come to speak to them about was what was making him edgy. Skulk and Skelos exchanged curious looks.

"What is it?" Skelos asked.

"Make it quick," Skulk added snappishly, "we're busy here."

"S-sorry sirs," the panther coughed nervously and glanced behind him for a split second. The way his eyes kept flickering to the side made Skelos wonder what on earth had made this cat so jittery. "There's a…um…"

"Speak up," Skulk said irritably, waving a paw. The panther gulped.

"There's someone who wants to talk to you, sirs."

'_Is that all?'_

"Tell him to wait," Skelos said, shaking his head in annoyance. "We have important things to discuss. Whatever he has to say can wait."

"Ac-actually, sir…" the messenger gulped, looking mortified as his own nerve, "it's kind of…urgent."

"What could be so urgent that you have to insist on interrupting us?" Skulk snapped, but a sudden commotion amongst the crowd of panthers behind them distracted him. Surprised, the twins turned around to find panthers hurried stepping out of the way of a small procession heading towards them. Skelos gaped.

Steel and Nyx pushed their way through the crowd on either side of a smallish, dull green dragon who hardly came up to their shoulders. They each had a hand on either one of his two, brown, ram-like horns, and the dragon's hazel eyes were blazing furiously. Even restrained by the two panthers as he was, the pronounced limp with which he walked was all too plain to see—as were the many scars that criss-crossed his forest-green scales.

"What is this?" Skulk asked sharply as the assassins and their dragon prisoner approached. Steel grimaced at him, but Nyx grinned darkly and pushed the dragon forward. He staggered and almost fell, casting an ugly look back at the two assassins before turning his gaze on the twins.

"We found him at the edge of the forest," Nyx purred, grinning coldly. "Said he wants to speak with our 'chief'. I guess he meant you."

The green dragon snorted and stared hard at Skulk, who was mildly surprised to find not a trace of fear in his eyes. His voice was strong and almost accusing when he asked, "Are you the chief of the panther tribe?"

"We don't use that title here," Skulk said delicately, glancing sideways at his brother. "But yes, my brother and I are the leaders of this tribe. And who might you be, dragon?"

"Two?" the dragon asked, raising an eyebrow at the twins and ignoring Skulk's question. "Whatever."

"You have a lot of daring to come all this way by yourself," Skelos acknowledged, eying him carefully. "So, what is it you want? Surrender? Come to deliver a message from your Guardians?"

The green dragon turned an ugly, distasteful look on Skelos.

"My name is Chasm. And I'm here to help you, whichever way I can."

**A/N: Yeah. You saw that coming. Right? Hopefully this chapter was satisfying in some way or another. And I'm only starting to broach the subject of the twin's past _now..._ 27 chapters in. Wut. xD Just a note: Spyro wasn't meant to be in character in that certain scene...it's meant to show just how unstable he's become that the smallest thing can so quickly send him off the edge. Buuut...I really shouldn't put that here, because if you can't get that from the story itself, it means I failed epically. D: But anyway...**

**Thank you, lovely person, for reading this. And thank you for putting up with the seriously long waits between updates. And thank you if you've ever sent me a review, PM, favourite or follow, because that makes me so very happy. Stay awesome. See you next time~ :]**

**(Oh, and regarding the twins' sister...most of the panthers don't even know they have one, which should clear up any doubts you had about the previous chapter. More on this in-story later...)**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Well, another month of waiting, another chapter to devour. This one's mostly character development, though you may spot a few things that will lead into the next arc of this story... Please enjoy. :]**

**28.**

The undergrowth parted reluctantly to admit a bronze-scaled dragon on the hunt. Slipping through the scratchy ferns and clumps of bramble as sleek and silent as a wraith, he kept his senses alert for any sign of prey—a scent, a sound, a flash of fur or feathers amidst the leaves. His stomach grumbled impatiently, and he grimaced as the sound broke the silence he'd been trying to maintain. Just as he was about to slink on, however, the bushes rustled conspicuously behind him and he spun around with a snarl.

Roku stared impassively into the crimson eyes of the wind dragon, unflinching despite Nadi's sudden and unexpected reaction. The snarl dropped abruptly from the bronze dragon's face the instant he saw who it was, and was quickly replaced by embarrassed confusion. A beat of silence passed between dragons.

"Sorry," Nadi apologised slowly, looking slightly unnerved, "didn't mean to snarl. I'm not used to being snuck up on."

"Your senses are astute," Roku acknowledged, padding closer to the bronze dragon with a half-smile on his face. "Most others wouldn't have heard me."

Nadi shrugged half-heartedly, "I've had experience living in the wild, I guess. But why were you following me?"

"Spyro did say someone was to keep an eye on you at all times, did he not?"

"Ah. Right. I forgot." Nadi pawed at a small shrub between his forepaws, looking almost sheepish. He glanced at Roku out of the corner of his eye, and noticed the black dragon's attention was no longer on him. Instead he was casting his gaze around the trees that surrounded them, his nostrils flared for the scent of prey.

"So…" the wind dragon started awkwardly, tilting his head. Roku answered without looking at him.

"We'll hunt together."

It wasn't a question, and Nadi didn't see fit to argue. Perhaps the two of them together could even take down a deer. If there were any deer in this forest, he reminded himself. Accepting the black dragon's company, he followed him into the brush and the search for lunch continued in silence.

They slipped through the trees for several painstaking minutes, keeping their pawsteps as soft and silent as they could manage, though there was little they could do to quell the impatient grumblings of their stomachs. Several times Nadi considered striking up conversation with the silent earth dragon, but every time the look of intense concentration on Roku's face made him falter. Perhaps the middle of a hunt was not the best time for conversation—though Nadi had a feeling, with Roku, there never was a best time.

Quite suddenly, the black dragon stopped and half extended one silvery wing to halt his companion. Nadi glanced at him curiously, until the same scent that had stopped Roku in his tracks reached him. Rabbit. Nadi's mouth watered in anticipation and he peered through the underbrush for the sight of his quarry. Roku tapped his paw and gestured wordlessly with a subtle jerk of his head, eyes shining with hunger. Only a few leaps away, scrabbling in the undergrowth at the edge of a tiny clearing, was a mouse-brown quivering ball of fur. Nadi grinned.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Roku shook his head and gestured wordlessly to his left before stepping carefully to the right. Nadi frowned, paused, and finally nodded when he understood. _Take it from that side_.

As one, the two dragons crept ever closer towards the flighty animal, keeping so low their bellies almost brushed the leaf-litter. Nadi licked his lips hungrily and prepared to spring as, across from him, Roku moved around to cut off the rabbit's escape. Suddenly, something in the bushes across the clearing snapped and the rabbit's head shot up in alarm. Snarling, Nadi threw caution to the wind and bounded across the distance between him and his prey.

There was a flurry of leaves, the sound of someone scrambling for traction, and then a yelp just as Nadi pinned the startled rabbit under his paws, snapping its neck with one violent motion. He rolled over onto his side as something solid and warm collided with his haunches, knocking the rabbit carcass from his paws. For a moment he thought Roku had pounced too, and they had collided in the middle, but the figure that had crashed into him felt smaller and slighter. The breath left his lugs with a whoosh as he struck the ground, throwing leaf litter over his scales.

"Sorry, sorry!" a feminine voice yelped, and Nadi raised his head in time to see a yellow dragoness scrambling backwards. It took him a moment before he realised he recognised her. Saffron.

She stepped away from the rabbit carcass that lay discarded on the leaf litter, eying it disappointedly before turning her violet gaze back to Nadi. He must have looked dazed, for she raised an eyebrow and muttered, "You right there? I didn't jostle your brains, did I?"

"Ah," Nadi mumbled, blinking his eyes back into focus and scrambling back to his feet. "Um…startled. Fine. I mean…I'm fine, you just startled me."

Saffron uttered a short laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "Yeah, startled me too. Wasn't expecting someone else to pounce on it."

Her gaze slid sideways to Roku, who was standing stoically nearby, watching the proceedings but not making any attempt to interrupt. Saffron's eyebrow slid upwards again, and she looked from him to Nadi and back again.

"Did we all just go for the same prey?" she asked incredulously before letting out a loud bark of laughter and sitting down on her haunches. "Talk about good timing!"

"Not quite," Roku said softly, stepping forward to join them. "Nadi and I were hunting together."

Saffron glanced from one to the other again before comprehension dawned on her face and she mumbled, "Oh _yeah_, someone's supposed to watch you, aren't they? Should have remembered that."

Nadi just looked uncomfortable. An awkward silence passed between the trio, until the wind dragon glanced down at the rabbit he had killed and then back up at Saffron again.

"Um…" he started unsurely, gesturing at the carcass with a paw, "did you want it?"

"Who, me? No!" Saffron looked almost mortified. "You caught it! I was too slow. Oh and, uh, sorry for knocking you over. My paws got excited. Or something."

Nadi shook his head, pawing the carcass closer to the yellow dragoness, "No, you take it. Me and Roku can catch something else, since we're supposed to be hunting together anyway. One rabbit isn't gonna feed the both of us."

"Hey, I'm a big girl," Saffron insisted, pushing the rabbit back to him, "I can hunt for myself. Eat your bunny and then help 'Tall, Dark and Silent' here to find something else to feed your gluttonous bellies. You boys always eat way more than your share, anyway. Catch you fellas 'round."

And before Nadi could utter a response, Saffron whirled around and pranced back into the undergrowth, leaving the bushes trembling in her wake. Nadi stared after her, the rabbit carcass between his paws and his mouth half open. Then the leaf litter crunched under Roku's paws and the wind dragon looked up to find his companion eying him with something akin to amusement.

"What?" Nadi asked almost defensively. Roku just smiled and nodded at the rabbit carcass.

"Are you going to eat that?"

* * *

By the time the others returned approximately an hour later with their bellies full, Spyro had paced the perimeter of the lake at least fifty times. His paws were sore and his nerves were edgy, and he jumped at small shadows, but not once did the grey spectre reappear. Flame was the first to return, still licking the remnants of his meal from his muzzle, and he found Spyro standing frozen at the edge of the lake. His front paws were submerged up to his ankles and he was staring intently across the still surface of water, as though expecting to see something on the other side. Were it not for the twitching of his tail, Flame would have thought he'd been turned to stone.

He didn't reply when the fire dragon asked what he was looking at.

"He's been like this since you guys left," Sparx whispered in Flame's ear. "I went to find me some butterflies, and when I came back he looked like he'd seen a ghost. I don't get it."

Ember, Kazan and Zannak returned shortly afterwards, and by that time Spyro had returned to pacing. They turned questioning looks on Flame, but he just shrugged. Ember tried to approach the purple dragon, but he merely brushed past her, an intense frown on his face. It was only when Cynder reappeared that Spyro made any indication that he had noticed their presence.

"We should go," he said sharply, looking up the instant Cynder alighted gracefully beside Ember, the only trace of her hunt a clump of fur that had become caught on one of her talons.

She raised an eyebrow at the edge to his voice. "Is something wrong, Spyro? We only just got back. A short rest would be nice."

"Yeah, and sis isn't back yet," Zannak piped up. "Or what's-his-face and the new guy."

"_Roku_ and _Nadi_," said a voice behind him tetchily. "Really, is it so hard for your tiny brain to remember a few names?"

Zannak grinned up at his sister as she strode to a stop beside him, gazing at him with mock disdain.

"Only those that don't matter," he shot back as she sat down beside him. Saffron rolled her eyes and pushing his face away with a paw, as though the sight of his teasing grin offended her.

Spyro hardly seemed to notice the exchange, striding forwards edgily and shooting nervous glances at every shadow the sun cast. "I'm telling you, we need to go. I don't like it here. Something isn't right."

"What isn't right?" Kazan muttered, stretching out on his belly and letting the sun warm his orange wings. "It's a heck of a lot more peaceful than most places we've been in lately. I reckon I could do with a short nap…"

"For once, idiot-ball over there is right," Flame grumbled, rolling over onto his back in the course grass and closing his eyes against the sun's glare. "A nap would be nice…"

"No!" Spyro exclaimed, and everyone jumped. Cynder shot him a confused, worried glance. "We can't stay here! We have to keep moving. Come on, everyone, get up. Get up!"

When no one made any move to do as he said, Spyro strode over to Flame and started trying to push him back to his feet. The red dragon grunted as Spyro shoved him over onto his side, cracking on eye open before rolling onto his belly.

"Calm your stuff, man!" Flame snapped, pushing himself up and glaring at the purple dragon's frantic eyes. "We're in no rush. Give us time to rest. What's the big deal?"

Smoke curled from Spyro's nostrils as they flared in annoyance, but Cynder stepped in before he could make a cutting retort—or worse. After the events of the previous night, she wasn't taking any chances.

"What's got into you?" she asked accusingly, pulling him away from Flame, who grumbled and flopped onto his back again. Spyro glared at the fire dragon until Cynder placed her paw on his cheek and forcibly turned his head until he was forced to meet her eyes.

"Spyro," she said firmly, "what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he mumbled, brushing her paw away and averting his eyes. "…I don't like this place."

His gaze slipped almost of its own accord towards the far side of the lake and, frowning, Cynder followed it with her own eyes. But there was nothing across the lake that caught her attention, and she returned her confused frown to Spyro's face. Realising he was being watched, Spyro met her eyes for a split second before looking at his paws again. Cynder sighed.

"Look, whatever it is that's spooked you, let it go. We're perfectly safe here. _Trust_ me."

Spyro met her eyes again, and she faltered under his brief, stony gaze. Perhaps that hadn't been the best thing to say. Shaking her head, Cynder tried again, silently cursing her tactlessness.

"If it's bothering you so much, we'll leave as soon as Roku and Nadi get back. Alright? We're certainly not leaving without them."

Again, Spyro glanced towards the far side of the lake. Cynder's jaw tightened in annoyance at his strange behaviour, but she clenched her teeth to avoid saying anything. Eventually, the purple dragon tore his eyes away from the lake and nodded stiffly. Then, tail twitching spasmodically, he turned away and sat down again at the edge of the lake to keep a constant vigilance. For what, Cynder didn't know.

No one tried to interrupt the purple dragon after that. For the next ten minutes, Cynder sat and scrutinised his violet-scaled back, wondering what it was that had spooked him and how long it would take him to trust her again. She cast a disdainful glance at the pouch tied around her upper foreleg and the Poison Claws concealed within. Oh, how she wished just left them lying on the floor of that ancestor's-forsaken cavern with the corpse of their owner. The last thing either of them needed was a reminder of that dark day in the caverns, and yet here it was, nestled in a pouch against her leg, the starkest reminder she could possibly have procured. No wonder Spyro was upset with her.

'_I wonder what he'd think if he knew his memory still haunted us…' _Cynder pondered bitterly, recalling the utter madness in a pair of ice-blue eyes and the broken sob of a dragon whose world had just come crashing down around him. Sighing, she closed her eyes against the harsh sun. A face flashed behind her eyelids, grey and icy blue, too vivid to be a memory, and her eyes flew open in shock. Only bright sunlight greeted her, and the scene around her remained the same as it had been before. But she was certain she had felt the Poison Claws tremble briefly against her leg.

Disturbed, Cynder fixed on her eyes on Spyro's tense back and tried to wipe the oracle's face from her mind. But it remained there, far more persistent than any memory. Perhaps Spyro was right. There _was_ something unnerving about this place.

Nadi and Roku returned soon after, but neither was given the chance to rest from the hunt before Spyro insisted on leaving. Neither wind nor earth dragon argued, however, and soon the group had left the swampy lake far behind. They flew in silence for some time, content to let only the wind whisper in their ears. But the air was growing cooler, the skies ahead darker, and eventually the silence was broken for good reason.

"That's going to be a big storm," Flame called over the rush of wind, swooping closer to Spyro so that he could be heard better by the purple dragon. "We should probably start looking for somewhere to land!"

"Why?" Spyro called back without turned his head. "There's still plenty of daylight left! We can still make good time if we fly until sundown!"

"Did the beating I give you last night kill off your brain cells or something? We don't want to get caught in that storm, trust me!"

Spyro seemed about to argue, but Cynder swooped in on his other side and called, "Flame's right, that storm looks like a big one! We need to land as soon as possible or we could be in serious trouble! I can feel the wind from here—it's a strong one for sure."

"So can I," interrupted Nadi suddenly, soaring up on Cynder's other side, his crimson eyes trained on the dark mass ahead. "I've experienced storms like this before. Trust me, you don't want to be in the sky when it hits."

"See? The new guy knows what he's talking about," Flame called. "Come on, let's find somewhere to land."

Sparx, flying between Spyro's horns as usual, eyed the dark clouds uneasily. "Call me crazy, Spyro, but I think we should listen to them."

Grimacing at the approaching storm front, Spyro sighed and relented. The forest below them was sparse, and the earth undulated into tall and shallow hills dotted with exposed clusters of rock. Following Flame's lead, the group descended to the dry ground, which was covered only by a layer of spiky, yellowed grass. They found shelter between two of the largest hills they could find nearby. Around them, tall straight trees reached towards the stormy sky, casting muted shadows across the grass.

"Think it's enough shelter?" Ember mused nervously, glancing up at the open sky. Flame strode up beside her.

"Well, if it rains we're going to get soaked, I can tell you that much," he muttered wryly.

"Not that there's much we can do about that," Saffron grimaced. "You know, unless someone can magically procure a roof out of nowhere…and something to hold it up, of course."

A quiet chuckle sounded beside the yellow dragoness, and a deep voice murmured, "I might not be able to do that, but there is something I could do."

Saffron glanced at Roku, who had spoken, one eyebrow raised in question. But the earth dragon merely smiled and turned towards the side of the tallest hill they stood at the base of.

"Spyro," he called, "I may need your help for this."

The purple dragon, who had been staring nervously through the trees as though expecting something to appear, suddenly jumped and turned around. Roku beckoned him over and murmured something that only he could hear. Ember, Saffron and Flame exchanged dubious glances, but they didn't have to wait for long.

"Best stand back," Spyro called over his shoulder as he and Roku braced themselves facing the hill.

Before anyone had a chance to question them, or prepare themselves, the two dragons expelled a combined burst of green energy from their jaws. It made contact with the hill with a sound like a boulder exploding. Dirt and rock leapt free as the earth parted almost willingly in the side of the hill, creating a deep hollow near the base. Flame winced, but both Ember and Saffron jumped as though they had been shocked.

Another blast of energy deepened and widened the hollow by almost double, and everyone watched as the purple dragon and the earth dragon strode forward with green energy glowing around their paws. The earth caved in willingly with every blow, and tendrils of green knitted the dirt of the roof together until it was almost as compact as rock. Soon enough, the gang of young dragons found themselves staring at a fairly-sized cave in the side of the hill. Roku and Spyro stood in the middle of it, inspecting their handiwork and ensuring that the earth wouldn't cave in around them.

"Wicked," Saffron breathed, eyes shining.

"Epic," Flame agreed with a grin.

"Guess we won't get wet after all," Ember said brightly.

"Just as long as the storm doesn't cave it in," Roku said bluntly, and everyone paused on their way into the makeshift cave, turning nervous eyes on him. The black dragon blinked, looking as though he hadn't realised what he'd said. Then he smiled reassuringly and added, "Spyro and I should be able to hold the roof up even if the storm does get that strong."

Reassured, the dragons padded into the cave and curled up in the softest patches of dirt they could find. Outside, the wind began to howl as it picked up, and the first drops of rain began to fall. Saffron stood at the mouth of the cave and stared out at the beginnings of the storm, frowning.

"We're dry enough, but what about warmth?" she called over her shoulder. "I could go get us some firewood."

"It's starting to rain, though," said Cynder, walking up beside her. "I suppose if you were quick, though. It does seem like it's going to be a cold night."

"I'll go with her," Ember offered, trotting over. "I don't fancy freezing my tail off all night. We'll be quick."

"Don't go too far," Cynder warned, her tail twitching. She could already feel the wind picking up, even though those who didn't wield the element had yet to notice. "And don't do anything stupid like cutting down trees. Just grab whatever you find on the ground and get back here as soon as you can. You don't want to be caught out when the storm hits."

"We'll be fine," Saffron insisted, beckoning to Ember. "Back soon!"

The black dragoness watched grimly as they cantered out into the slow drizzle. For the moment they lingered in the valley, gathering what little sticks and bark they could find that hadn't been too wet by the rain. Sighing, Cynder turned away and looked over everyone else. Zannak was curled up in the far curve of the cave, looking bored as he traced circles in the dirt with a claw. Roku seemed to have struck up a conversation with Nadi, who kept sending nervous glances towards the mouth of the cave. Cynder had a feeling he could feel the pull of the wind too; a pull that suggested a big storm was on the way. There was something else behind his nervousness, however;something akin to excitement.

Turning her eyes from the bronze dragon, she looked over Kazan, who was playing with a tiny orb of fire in the pad of his paw, and Flame, who was lying on his back staring lazily at the roof of the cave, before finally settling on Spyro. There was a glazed look to his eyes that suggested his mind was elsewhere. He lay on his belly, his paws folded in front of his chest, but his posture erect. Sparx was lounging on his head, and Cynder could see his mouth moving, but could not hear the words as he jabbered away. She wondered if Spyro was even listening to him.

Sighing, Cynder stood up and padded over to him.

"Uh oh, she-dragon approaching," she heard Sparx say, "quick, pretend you're asleep."

The dragonfly suddenly draped himself across Spyro's forehead and started snoring obnoxiously. Cynder rolled her eyes as she approached and murmured icily, "Funny, Sparx. A sleeping meal is an easy meal."

His blue eyes snapped open and he shot back up again, leaning against Spyro's horn and trying to look nonchalant. "Who, me? I don't sleep. I mean…I wasn't sleeping. Hey, we had a deal! I stop calling you evil, you stop threatening to eat me!"

"I don't remember making any deals," Cynder smirked, snapping her jaws in front of his tiny face. "And trust me, I don't make deals with insects."

"Who are you calling insect?" the dragonfly snapped, jabbing a finger at the tip of her snout. "And you're still creepy, but I've got Spyro here to watch my back. Right, buddy?"

Spyro grunted dismissively and Sparx folded his arms, looking irritated.

"And what's that supposed to mean? I don't know about you, but I don't speak troll."

Cynder chuckled despite herself and stepped back to give Sparx his personal space, but not before snorting a tiny gust of wind that ruffled his wings and caused his antenna to tangle. He smoothed them irritably, glaring at her, but didn't make a retort. The black dragoness sat down opposite Spyro and waited until his gaze travelled up to meet hers.

"What is it, Cynder?" he asked almost tiredly. A frown graced her face.

"I just wanted to enjoy your company," she said, watching his face for a reaction. "I know this storm will slow us down, but we might as well enjoy whatever respite we can get while we're waiting for it to pass. And…I'm worried about you. You seem so tired…so worried."

Spyro sighed and closed his eyes, turning his face away. "I'm just stressed, okay? After everything that's been happening… I don't know what's expected of me. I just wish everything was simple again. I wish we were back at Warfang, that the panthers had never come, that the Chronicler had never summoned me."

He lowered his voice until it was so quiet Cynder had to strain to hear, "I wish the guardians hadn't tried to teach me the advanced elements. I feel like…everything just got worse after they did."

Cynder sighed and lay down on her stomach, folding her paws before her chest. "Why didn't you tell them this before, Spyro? If you don't want to learn them, you shouldn't have to."

"That's not what they'd say," Spyro said sharply, and Cynder's eyebrows rose at the tone of his voice. He faltered and looked away again. "I mean…it's the purple dragon's duty to learn all the elements, including their advanced forms. That's what Terrador said. Even if I didn't want to, I have to."

"That isn't right." Cynder frowned. "You might be the purple dragon, but that doesn't mean you should have to control so much power if you don't want to. I'm sure the guardians wouldn't want this to stress you out so much. You should talk to them about it."

Spyro laughed humourlessly. "Yeah, if I ever get the chance. Who knows if we'll ever get back to Warfang? …And if it'll still be there."

"Don't speak like that. Of course we will. And once this whole mess is over, you can tell them you just want to live like a normal dragon. I'm sure everything will be fine."

Spyro didn't reply, and Cynder hesitated unsurely.

"That…is what you want, isn't it? To live like a normal dragon? To not have to worry about the purple dragon's duties?"

Spyro met her eyes slowly, looking strangely conflicted, "Something like that…"

The black dragoness tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but she wasn't sure if it had come out more like a grimace. "Don't worry, we'll sort it all out. For now, let's just focus on what Ignitus wants us to do. We'll find a cure for whatever it is that makes you lose control, Spyro, I promise, whether it's convexity or…something else."

"Something else?" Spyro asked, confused. "What else could it be?"

"I don't know…" Cynder trailed off, staring blankly at the cavern wall for a moment. "But things like this aren't always as simple as they might first appear."

Spyro frowned. "Cynder, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing, Spyro, it's fine. We'll find a way to help you, I promise."

Spyro eyed her strangely, unsatisfied, but they were interrupted at that moment by Flame.

"The storm's picking up pretty quickly," he said, glancing towards the mouth of the cave. Cynder looked too, and was surprised to see the rain was now bucketing down—in her distraction, she hadn't heard it. Flame was still speaking, however, so she quickly turned her attention back to him. "Saffron and Ember aren't back yet… I think I should go look for them."

"They aren't?" the black dragoness asked, her voice creeping up an octave in alarm. "But they said they'd be quick… they were right outside only minutes ago."

"I know, maybe something distracted them," Flame muttered. "Wait here, I'll go find them."

"Be careful," Cynder called as he moved towards the mouth of the cave. Then something bronze hurried past her, and she blinked in surprise.

"I'll go with you," Nadi said suddenly, an assertiveness he'd not had before suddenly shining in his crimson eyes. "I'm used to storms. We'll find them quicker if we go together."

Flame shrugged, "Suit yourself. Don't get lost, though."

Side by side, bronze and red disappeared into the sheet of rain falling outside and left the others to await their safe return.

* * *

Saffron's pale wings quivered in the chilly haze of drizzle as she shuffled around in the grass, collecting shards of bark and twigs that had been stripped from the trees by wind and rain. She could hear Ember doing the same nearby, and pondered how to break the silence of their menial task. Adding another twig to the small bundle held securely in her tail, the electric dragoness looked up and padded closer to her companion.

"It's cold out," Ember piped up before Saffron had a chance to think of a conversation topic. "Think you've got enough?"

Saffron glanced back at her bundle again, grimacing at the measly few sticks she had managed to gather. "Hardly. A fire wouldn't last ten minutes with this little tinder. Guess you're not doing better."

Ember glanced disappointedly at her own bundle, which was hardly bigger than Saffron's. She looked up, her eyes seeking out a cluster of trees further away from the makeshift cave. "Maybe we should try over there instead."

In agreement, the two dragonesses made their way towards the trees, ducking their heads against the increasingly heavy drizzle of rain. As Ember stopped to add a large stick to her bundle, Saffron broke the silence that had fallen again.

"So, what do you think of the new guy?"

"Nadi?" Ember glanced up at her friend, curious. Saffron's expression suggested she was trying to ask casually, nonchalantly, but her eyes gave away her interest. The pink dragoness couldn't hide a small smirk. "I think he seems nice. He doesn't speak much, though. Kind of makes me wonder if he's hiding something."

"I think he's just shy," Saffron said, almost defensive. She picked up a piece of bark in her teeth and transferred it to the bundle in her tail. "I'm sure he'll warm up to us eventually."

"Maybe," Ember agreed quietly, slyly watching Saffron's face out of the corner of her eye as she grabbed another twig. "He's kinda hard to figure out at the moment. He hardly speaks, he hasn't done anything… We don't even really know what he's like. I think Spyro was right to make sure someone keeps him in sight at all times. You can never be too careful, especially in times like this."

A snort left Saffron's nostrils and she tossed her head stiffly, blinking the hazy rain from her eyes. "You're all so suspicious. He's clearly come from a pretty harsh ordeal, it's no wonder he's not ready to open up to anyone just yet."

"If what he says about himself is true."

Saffron turned a glare on her pink friend, "Now that's just being overly paranoid. What reason would he have to lie about his past? I mean, jeez, he practically watched his entire family waste away and die—would you lie about something like that?"

Ember shrugged, "Maybe if he really had a reason to. I'm pretty sure he's who he says he is, but all the same, you shouldn't put all your trust in him so soon. You know what they say, better safe than sorry."

"He's a dragon, what's not to trust?"

"Not all dragons are good dragons."

Saffron bit her lip and didn't reply, choosing instead to go for a large stick she had spotted lying a few feet away. As she snapped it in half with a well-placed blow to make it easier to carry, she heard Ember following her tracks through the damp grass. The rain was growing heavier. Just as Saffron raised her head, a quiet, almost inaudible gasp came from behind, and she twisted her head around to see what had alarmed her friend. But Ember was no longer standing there.

The pink dragoness had broken into a run towards a far cluster of trees in the near distance, well out of sight of the makeshift cave where the others were waiting. Saffron yelled her name in alarm and confusion before making chase, tightening her grip on the bundle of tinder in her tail. The rain lashed her eyes as she ran, and a distant roar told her it was about to get heavier. A lot heavier.

"Ember!" Saffron yelled through the rain, squinting to make out her bright pink scales. "Ember, where are you going?!"

Slowly, the fire dragoness trotted to an uncertain stop, swaying on her feet and looking around desperately, as though she had lost something. Saffron skidded to a halt at her side, shaking rainwater from her horns.

"What's the big deal?" she exclaimed in Ember's ear. The pink dragoness jumped and turned to face her, azure eyes shining with confusion and worry.

"I…I thought I saw…" she licked her lips and glanced towards the cluster of trees again, looking vaguely disturbed. "There was a grey dragon…"

Saffron looked too, but all she saw through the rain were trees, grass and mud. There was no sign of any other living creature out in this weather. The yellow dragoness shook her head.

"I didn't see anyone. It's probably just the rain playing tricks on you."

With a sudden roar, the skies opened up, and the rain began bucketing down, twice as hard as before. Saffron groaned, feeling her wings droop under the onslaught. The bundle of twigs in her tail was getting soaked.

"Speaking of which," she grumbled over the gushing roar. Nudging the still confused Ember with a wing, she turned back the way they had come. "Let's just get back to the cave. Anything we gather in this rain will be too drenched to start a fire with, anyway. We left it too late."

Ember hesitated for a moment longer, still staring into the grove of trees, a look of disturbed confusion on her face, but the unrelenting downpour seemed to make up her mind and she turned away to follow Saffron. The rain was falling so heavy now that they could hardly see the way in front of them, and their paws kept slipping on the muddy ground. Saffron was forced to stop when her paw slipped out from under her, and she barely managed to catch herself before she got a face full of mud. The twigs still in her grasp slipped out and tumbled into the mud, but she didn't care. They were useless, drenched as they were.

"Saffron!" Ember called over the sound of the rain, staggering to her side. "Where's the cave?!"

"I'm not sure!" Saffron yelled back, furiously trying to blink rainwater from her eyes. She waved vaguely ahead with one muddied paw. "That way somewhere!"

An ominous rumble suddenly ripped through the sky above them and both dragonesses winced. A sudden gust of strong wind almost knocked Saffron off her feet, and she staggered sideways into Ember, sending them both sprawling in the mud. A flash of lightning illuminated the rain-soaked world for a moment, followed almost instantly by a deafening crack of thunder.

"Hell!" Saffron swore, spitting grit out and struggling to her feet. "This damn storm picked up quick. Ember, come on!"

"I-I'm coming!" the pink dragoness stammered, her voice almost drowned out by the rain. She slipped and slid to her feet and hurried to keep up with Saffron, who had suddenly broken into a loping run. The wind and the rain lashed at their faces, blinding them.

Ember yelped as the dark shape of a tree suddenly loomed in front of her, and she skidded sideways in a desperate attempt to avoid it. Mud splashed up her legs and splattered her underbelly as she skidded onto her side, her tail clipping the drenched tree trunk painfully. Groaning, she feebly picked her sore, mud-splattered body up again.

Saffron skidded to a halt when she realised Ember was no longer with her. She whipped her head around desperately, staggering as the wind tried to throw her off her feet again, spraying her face with both rain and mud.

"Ember!" she cried into the storm, wincing as another crack of lightning answered her call. "Ember!"

A bright, warm-coloured shape suddenly appeared to her left, and she quickly spun around to face it, recognising the vague shape of a dragon.

"Ember?" she called, but the face that loomed out of the downpour was not hers.

"Where is she?" Flame demanded, startling the confused Saffron.

"I don't know!" the yellow dragoness yelled, bracing herself against the storm as Flame did the same. "We got separated!"

"You get back to the cave!" Flame yelled in her face. "I'll find Ember!"

Saffron just nodded dumbly and started slipping and sliding in the direction Flame had come from, hoping it would lead her back to the others. The red dragon disappeared into the downpour behind her, leaving her alone once more. A spike of fear drove its way into Saffron's heart, and she barely managed to suppress a whimper when another streak of lightning lit up the storm once more. Thunder exploded in her head and she flattened herself to the ground, trying to ignore the painful lashing of the wind and the rain against her flank.

Spurred on only by sheer determination, the yellow dragoness pushed herself shakily back to her feet and staggered on. There was a sudden, violent crack from somewhere above her, and she spun around in alarm to see the broken bough of a tree descending towards her. Stifling a yell, she spat an orb of electricity straight at it. Branch and orb met in an explosion of voltage and wooden shrapnel, and Saffron flattened herself to the ground for a second time. She felt splinters pepper her hide, and then suddenly the noise of the storm dimmed strangely around her. It took another moment for her to realise she was no longer feeling the rain lashing her scales, and yet another to realise she was no longer alone.

Gasping, Saffron rolled over and found herself face to face with a certain bronze dragon.

"Nadi?" she yelped, and he looked down at her with a rogue grin that looked strangely out of place on his face.

"You alright?" he asked, and Saffron was surprised at how easily she could hear his voice over the sound of the storm. Confused, she extended her vision to her surroundings, and what she saw made her falter in amazement.

They were encased in a dome of constantly moving wind, so concentrated it blocked out both the wind of the storm outside and the gushing rain. The stiffness of Nadi's posture made Saffron certain he was the one controlling the dome. She couldn't imagine how hard it must have been to maintain a shield against a force as violent as the storm. But Nadi's eyes were shining like spirit gems and she had never seen him look so vivid and alive. It took a moment for her to realise she was staring and loosen her jaw.

"You saved me _again_?" she asked incredulously with a shaky laugh, rolling back onto her belly and crawling out from under him, being careful not to come in contact with the edge of the dome. "Who are you, my knight in shining armour?"

"I don't know about armour," Nadi replied, and Saffron realised how strained his voice sounded. The wind dome must have been taking a lot of his concentration. "Unless this counts."

He jerked his head upwards, no doubt indicating the shield of wind. Saffron tried to hide the awe on her face, but had no idea if she was successful.

"That's pretty impressive," she said, "where'd you learn it?"

"Taught myself. I'm a bit of a sucker for a good storm. There's nothing more exhilarating." He grinned that rogue grin again, and Saffron felt her stomach do a strange flip-flop in response. Then Nadi winced and the dome around them flickered briefly, exposing them for brief second to the destructive elements outside. Staggering, the wind dragon quickly reinforced his shield.

"I can't hold this for very long, though," he yelled, "at least not big enough for both of us! This storm is a strong one!"

"Let's get back, then!" Saffron insisted, staggering to her feet.

"Stay close to me!"

Saffron was about to reply, when she felt Nadi's wing curl over her back and pull her against his side, cutting off her train of thought. Trying to ignore the burning sensation on her cheeks, she matched his steps as best she could and, as one, they started to move. She could feel his muscles moving against her side with every step, tense with concentration, but she kept her eyes on his face. His vivid red eyes stared intently ahead, shining with concentration and exhilaration. Her face felt strangely hot despite the freezing temperature inside the dome.

"Can we go any faster?" Saffron asked suddenly as Nadi winced again and the dome flickered alarmingly before reforming.

"I can't," Nadi grunted. "Not unless you want me to drop this shield. The cave isn't far. You're an electricity dragon; can you give us some light?"

Nodding, Saffron opened her jaws a crack and formed a glowing yellow orb of voltage between them. Narrowing her eyes in concentration, she spat it out ahead of her. It floated for a moment in front of her, like some sort of electrified fairy, before fading with a feeble burst. Saffron scowled.

"Hang on, I've got this," she mumbled. "I just haven't done it for a while."

A few more attempts later, and finally Saffron managed to procure an orb that didn't burst upon leaving her jaws. It bobbed ahead of them, a little Sparx look-a-like, shedding pale yellow light over their faces. Nadi's eyes narrowed, and a small window opened up in the wind dome in front of them, so that the light from the orb spread out ahead of them. The rain lashed their faces, but the rest of them remained largely protected by the dome.

"We should be able to find the cave better now that we can see where we're going," Nadi called over the rain, pulling Saffron against his side again and started to move. She staggered and quickly matched his steps, keeping her concentration on her little floating ball of electric illumination.

Step by step, they crawled through the storm, unsure if they were even going the right way, until at last something appeared out of the gloom. A bright, fiery glow shone through the haze of wind and rain, and Saffron pointed excitedly, accidently losing concentration. Her electric orb detonated with a weak explosion, stopping Nadi in his tracks.

"Look!" Saffron called, gaining his attention. "That must be them!"

Nadi grinned, "Alright, ready to run?"

Saffron looked at him in confusion, "What?"

"I'm dropping the shield."

And before Saffron had a chance to argue, the dome of wind dissipated around them and they were suddenly assaulted by a lashing storm of wind and rain. Nadi broke into a gallop with an excited whoop, and Saffron sprinted after him without missing a beat. They splashed through puddles of water and mud, rain almost blinding them, until the both of them suddenly collapsed on the drenched floor of the makeshift cave. Saffron felt someone grab her by the shoulders and drag her further in, away from the storm. Blinking confusedly, she realised it was Kazan. His crest was glowing like fire, and it was no doubt that which she had seen through the storm.

"Nadi, Saffron, are you alright?" Spyro exclaimed, running over to them with Sparx hovering between his horns.

Gasping and drenched, the two dragons in question took a moment to gather their bearings before meeting each other's eyes. A slow grin spread across Nadi's face and he suddenly erupted into laughter. Saffron stared slack-jawed for a moment before she too started tittering, her giggles turning to guffaws as the others around them stared in amazement. The bronze dragon draped a wing around her shoulders again, his body shaking with laughter, and Saffron pressed her drenched forehead against his shoulder, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Th-that was crazy," the wind dragon stammered between chuckles, rubbing his wet face with the back of a paw. "W-we need to do that again some time."

"T-Tell me about it," Saffron giggled.

Sparx stared from one to the other, unamused. "Oii…they've lost their minds. What now, Spyro?"

Shaking his head, the purple dragon looked away from his laughing friends and stared out into the unrelenting storm anxiously. "Flame and Ember still aren't back yet."

The rain lashed his face and he stepped back with a snort, "And we're not going to get any sleep tonight if this keeps up. The rain keeps coming in."

"If worse comes to worse, it could collapse the entrance," Roku agreed grimly, moving to stand beside Spyro. "I could block it with earth, but that would suffocate us."

"I could create a wind shield," Cynder offered, frowning. "But I doubt I could keep it up all night. My other elements are useless in this situation. And neither fire, ice nor electricity will help either."

Spyro chewed his lip, "What do we do?"

Beside him, Roku was silent, a thoughtful look in his dark green eyes. Outside, the wind howled and the rain lashed harder, blowing through the mouth of the cave and drenching those inside.

"There is…something that could help," Roku said slowly, "Though I am unsure if I could manage it. I've only ever succeeded once at using it, and never at this grand a scale…"

"What are you talking about?" Spyro asked.

"Yeah, stop speaking in riddles and say it straight," Sparx added, poking a finger accusingly at Roku's snout. The black dragon blinked slowly at him and then looked back to Spyro.

"You have been learning the advance elements, have you not?" he asked. "With your assistance, I may be able to create a wall of vines to keep the storm out."

Spyro's face paled, "You mean…using nature? Earth's advanced element?"

Roku nodded.

"I…I can't," Spyro stammered, taking a step away from the black dragon. He looked almost mortified, and heartbreakingly ashamed. "I've tried, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Roku sighed, "I can't do this alone, Spyro. If this storm continues as it is, the entire mouth of the cave could collapse. All I ask is that you assist me. We'll do it together."

"But I've never been able to use nature before, I—!" Spyro's tirade was suddenly cut off by a yell from outside that broke through the howl of the storm. Two dragons suddenly came powering through the mouth of the cave, drenched and covered with cuts and scratches they had received from wind-borne debris. Kazan, who had been standing furthest towards the mouth of the cave and acting as a living lantern, quickly moved aside to allow them in.

"Never again," Flame gasped as he collapsed on the muddy floor, chest heaving. Ember flopped down next to him, her sides rising and falling rapidly. Blood trickled from a deep cut under her cheek, but the water flowing down her scales washed it away.

"Good to see you made it back alive," Kazan muttered, and though his voice was mocking, there remained a definite undertone of relief.

"Mhmm…" murmured Ember shakily, raising her head. "Did Saff…?"

She trailed off when she noticed the drenched electricity dragoness sitting beside Nadi further inside the cave. Saffron grinned tiredly at her, and Ember breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh good," she sighed, "we're all safe."

"We won't be for long if we can't do anything to block out the storm," Kazan interrupted grimly, glancing towards Roku and Spyro. "I don't know about you, but I don't face being trapped under piles of dirt and rock if this place collapses."

"Why don't you go sleep outside, then?" Flame snapped tetchily.

"Hah-hah, funny. Smartass."

"Let's not argue right now, guys," Ember insisted tiredly, and something about her tense tone of voice made them both shut their mouths. The pink dragoness turned her head to the purple dragon. "Spyro, is there anything you can do about it?"

It was Cynder, however, who answered her. "Roku thinks they could block the entrance off with vines, but Spyro's never been able to use the nature element before."

"Who cares if he hasn't?" Flame grunted, pushing himself up. "There's a first for everything. Come on, Spyro, show those plants who's boss."

Roku glanced disapprovingly at the red dragon, "That's not how nature works, Flame. We have to work together with it, feed it our energy and allow it to become one with our essence. Spyro is the purple dragon; I have no doubt that he can do it if he tries."

"But I did try!" Spyro exclaimed, looking irked that no one was listening to what he was trying to say. "I tried ages ago with Terrador, and I couldn't do it!"

"Then you will try again!" Roku demanded, suddenly whirling on the purple dragon. Spyro took a step backward, startled by the sudden intensity on the earth dragon's usually calm visage. He had never seen him show this sort of emotion before.

"But I…"

"No dragon ever succeeded by giving up after a first failure!" Roku said sharply, green eyes flashing a challenge. "_I_ have only used this element once myself, and that was nothing compared to what we need to accomplish here! But for the safety of everyone, I will _try_! All I ask is that you do the same!"

Spyro faltered, unable to tear his gaze away from Roku's intense, challenging stare. He could feel all his friends around him, watching, their eyes burning into his back, waiting for his reaction. They were depending on him. Could he let them down?

Slowly, Spyro nodded. Satisfied, Roku stepped back and strode towards the mouth of the cave where the rain was gushing through without relent. Spyro followed nervously, trying to quell the tremors in his gut. To fail in front of a Guardian had been bad enough. To fail in front of his friends… Spyro didn't even want to think about that. But Roku was right. He had to try.

"Just concentrate," Roku said, taking a stance in front of the entrance, while Spyro took his stance beside him. "We can do this."

"Go Spyro, woo…" Sparx cheered weakly, hovering nervously behind one of Cynder's horns. She watched the two dragons worriedly, but knew there was nothing she could say to help.

Nodding, Spyro took a deep breath and closed his eyes, knowing Roku was doing the same beside him. Attempting to relax his tense muscles, he slowly let his consciousness grow through the earth beneath his paws. He tried to block out the wind and the rain that lashed his scales, and the anxious watching eyes of his friends. There was only one thing he wanted to concentrate on—nature. Deeper, he delved, searching for those elusive roots that formed a network of life within the earth. And as he drew deeper, he felt something else.

Someone else's energy.

As he reached out to touch it, he felt it quiver and the image of a dark dragon with green eyes flashed to the forefront of his mind. He felt a calmness wash over him, but there was a strange sensation tingling beneath—something that told him there was far more power beyond this calm surface. A sudden urge to delve deeper, to find that power, surfaced within him. But then the energy convulsed and pushed him back, and Spyro twitched.

_Calm yourself. It's just me._

Suddenly he realised that it was Roku's energy he was sensing, and he felt a rush of guilt for wanting to take that power; all that calm, earthen energy, strong as the earth itself. But that was not what he was here for.

Deeper still, he probed, until at last he felt what he had been searching for. The tips of the first roots that belonged to the system of nature were so tantalisingly close, right before his claw tips. Eagerly, he reached out to them.

_Stop_.

_Our energy is not yours._

Spyro frowned. He remembered this now, the stubborn energy of nature and its refusal to accept him. This was where he had failed last time, but not this time. This time he wouldn't fail. Not when his friends needed him. Desperately, he reached out again. He could feel that energy, that unstoppable, unbridled energy of the very earth itself, so close he could almost taste it. He had to have it.

_You do not belong here. Turn back._

No. Not this time. Eager, greedy, he pushed on, reaching for that energy. He felt it resisting him, trying to push him back, but his desperation made him stronger. Almost…almost…

_Stop._

That wasn't nature's energy. Spyro faltered when he felt Roku's energy come into contact with his, pulling him away from what he had so desperately been trying to reach. He tried to struggle, until his conscious mind recalled that Roku was his friend, not his enemy.

_Don't force it. Feed it._

With that thought echoing in his subconscious mind, Spyro let his energy bleed out through his claws, through the earth, deep, deep down towards the roots of life. A sudden ripple of power ripped through him as energies met and intertwined, and instead of trying to take that power, he let it take his. Energy drained from his body and left him feeling weak and powerless, but only for a moment. Seconds later, power like that which he had never known filled his body, overflowing, coating his every scale, and his eyes snapped open.

Cynder and the others cried out as Spyro and Roku's bodies suddenly started glowing with a vibrant green aura. From nowhere, giant grey-green vines exploded from the muddied earth and spiralled upwards towards the roof of the cave mouth. They curved and knitted together and, when they reached the top, crept their way through the roof of the cave like an ever-growing network of roots. The howl of the storm outside grew dull as the wall of vines blocked out the worst of the wind and rain.

Then, with collective gasps of exhaustion, Spyro and Roku collapsed simultaneously. The green glow faded from their scales as the others hurried to their aid.

"That was insane!" Zannak crowed as Cynder helped Spyro back to his feet, and Ember did the same for Roku.

Spyro blinked his eyes open groggily, feeling as drained as if he'd just performed two furies at once. He gazed dazedly at the wall of vines that blocked the cave off from the storm outside. "We…we did it?"

"We did it," Roku grunted, nodding his thanks to Ember once she had made sure he could stand on his own. "Well done, Spyro. I doubt I could have done it without you."

The purple dragon just gaped at the vines, jaw slack. "I did it…"

Then, with a laugh of pure triumph, he turned and swept Cynder into a crushing hug. She gasped as she was pulled against his chest by both his wings and forepaws, until the two of them crashed over backwards. Laughing, Spyro nuzzled her neck affectionately as she lay sprawled across his chest, stunned but smiling. Cynder giggled, and for a moment it was as though their argument from the night before hadn't happened at all.

* * *

Hunter stood by the window in Mari and Terra's room, letting the midday light wash over his golden fur. It was a cloudy sort of day, and the sun's feeble light was struggling to make its way through the fog that covered the sky. Behind him, Mari, Terra and Cougar were still held in the bliss of sleep, curled up on cushions on opposite sides of the room. All four of them had been released from the infirmary the previous afternoon and, having not slept at all the previous night, had quickly fallen asleep upon returning to the room. Hunter and Cougar hadn't even bothered returning to their own room—it felt safer together.

Sighing, the golden-furred cheetah rubbed his bandaged shoulder absentmindedly and stared out at the streets below. His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, and it felt almost surreal to think that, only yesterday morning, he had been fighting for his life against the leader of the panthers in the middle of a burning warehouse. It seemed even stranger to think the entirety of Warfang had been almost overrun with enemies, when now it seemed so quiet and peaceful. But he knew, behind closed doors, dragons and moles alike were fighting for their lives, and others grieving friends and family members lost in the battle.

Hunter couldn't help but wonder what the Guardians were planning to do now. Would they wait for the panthers to act again, or take things into their own claws? And where did that leave him and the rest of the cheetah tribe? He wondered what Prowlus was doing now, and whether the old chief was worried about the dragons. Hunter's face darkened. Perhaps this second defeat at the Dragon City would make the panthers resort to underhanded tactics to take Avalar. The urge to return to his village was growing stronger.

Turning away from the window, he watched his sleeping comrades with a guarded look upon his face. At least one good thing had come from this recent conflict. There was no mistaking what had happened on the wall between Skelos and Terra. Those doubts he'd had previously, all those suspicions he'd had about her true alliance, were as good as dead. No one could have faked the anguish he had seen in her face when she watched her clan flee; the anguish of a creature torn between what was right and all that she had ever known.

She would never have given up her clan like that if her intentions for the cheetahs and dragons had not been pure.

Hunter leaned against the wall and tipped his head back, folding his arms over his chest. Despite almost a day and a half of sleep, he still felt tired and drained. The stress leading up to the battle and the fight itself had taken more out of him than he'd realised. A rest was something he so desperately needed, but he wasn't sure if it was something he could afford. Not while the panthers were still at large.

They might have lost this battle, but that meant by no means that they would give up. If their leaders were even the slightest bit as stubborn as Chief Prowlus…

A half-sigh, half-groan escaped Hunter's lips and he raised a paw to rub across his eyes. Across the room, Terra stirred from slumber, shifting on her cushions. Her ocean-blue eyes flickered open, closed, and then opened again. For a moment she lay still, frozen as memories of the day before returned to her with heart-aching clarity. Then, paws shaking, she pushed herself into a sitting position and stared across the room. Hunter uncovered his eyes and looked up, sensing her gaze.

"You're awake," he stated for lack of something better to say.

Terra just nodded dumbly, hugging her arms around herself. She gazed down at Mari, curled up in a pile of cushions beside her, her face relaxed in sleep. Absently, Terra reached for the petite cheetah's paw and sat for a while, just holding it, as though to reassure herself that her friend was still there. Hunter watched her carefully.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked at length, and her eyes slid up uncertainly to meet his.

She opened her mouth to speak, seemed to think better of it, and then just nodded. Hunter had a feeling that movement was a mere automatic one, and not representative of her state of mind. She wasn't alright. He could see it in her eyes.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Hunter padded across the room and crouched down in front of her. He noticed the way she seemed to shrink away from him, but did not let go of the sleeping Mari's paw. Hunter felt a twinge of something that might have been similar to guilt. Was she truly so scared of him?

"I'm not sure if this will mean much, but…" he trailed off, unsure how to word what he wanted to say. Terra chewed her lip anxiously, watching him, and he forced himself to continue. "What happened on the wall… Well, I, that is…"

Hunter sighed and shook his head, "What I mean is, I want to apologise for not trusting you before. I hope you understand that I was merely thinking about what was best for my tribe and our allies. But I want you to know that you have earned my trust. I can see just how much you've sacrificed to help my tribe and…I trust you."

He smiled wryly and reached out a paw to place on her shoulder, noting with relief that she did not shy away. "From now on, consider us allies. _True_ allies. You're one of us."

For a moment Terra just stared at him, her face impassive. Then her expression changed and, without warning, tears flooded her eyes. The paw that was not holding Mari's flew up to her mouth to stifle a sob and she turned her face away, trying helplessly to hide the tears that streamed down her cheeks. At a loss, Hunter just patted her shoulder awkwardly and wished Mari was awake. She'd know what to do.

"Th-thank you," Terra stammered at length, rubbing her eyes furiously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start crying like that. I just…"

"It's okay," Hunter assured her, sitting back on a spare cushion and releasing her shoulder. "You've been through a lot, it's only to be expected."

The pantheress smiled unsurely, meeting his gaze again now that the flow of tears had stopped. Then a look of guilt flashed across her face and she dropped her gaze again, to Hunter's confusion.

"What is it?" he asked concernedly.

"I…I'm sorry that we didn't listen to you yesterday," Terra stammered, keeping her eyes fixed on Mari's paw as she stroked it. The female cheetah slept on, unaware. "It was my fault, really, so please don't be angry with Mari. I convinced her to leave the room."

Hunter shook his head. "What's done is done. We should just be glad that nothing worse happened, and we are all back here safe and sound. I should have known better than to order you to stay out of a battle that involved your entire clan."

Terra gave a half-hearted smile and glanced sideways at him again, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away. Hunter leant back and turned his eyes to the window, musing inwardly. It was a few minutes before he broke the silence again.

"It's about time we started thinking about returning to Avalar. I'm worried about my village, and with Warfang safe for now… Well, what I'm trying to say is that I'd like for you to return with—" A sudden knock at the door cut Hunter off mid-sentence, and he glanced towards it in surprise. Terra tore her eyes away from his face, equally startled by the sudden interruption. Hunter pushed himself to his feet.

"Wait a moment," he murmured to Terra as he moved over to the door.

Hunter wasn't sure who to expect. Only the Guardians seemed likely, but why they would be disturbing him now, he wasn't sure. Regardless, he pulled open the door to greet whoever it was that was knocking, and for a moment found himself staring at an empty corridor. Then his gaze shifted down, and he met the violet eyes of a petite white dragoness standing on the other side of his door.

He was certain he wasn't the one she was here to see.

**A/N: Hello again! As usual, thanks everyone who reviewed; your words are greatly appreciated. :'D To those who don't know, I'm trying to write 50 000 words of this story this month, in honour of NaNoWriMo, which I was too busy to do properly this year. I'm...quite behind, but we shall see! Now I'm off to go spend a week without internet with my extended family... Such fun. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and hopefully I'll have another ready for you soon. ;D**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I wanted to tell you the tale of how I lost faith in this story so violently that I couldn't bring myself to post this chapter, and even now it's a struggle to do so for reasons I'm unsure of. But that would take too long, and it would ramble on for paragraphs, so I will leave it at that. This should have been up weeks ago. I'm sorry it wasn't. But I hope it will be enjoyed by those who read it. And I hope I won't completely lose faith in this story before I can finish it. Please. Read and enjoy. It's all I can ask.**

**29.**

In a dim-lit room of a house untouched by the light of sunset, an angry voice filled the space between the walls, replacing the silence that usually fell in the latter hour of dusk.

"…realise how reckless your actions were?! …could have been killed or worse! …out of her mind with worry! What example is this setting for Myst and Domino?!"

Zephira gazed intensely at her heavily bandaged paws as Selador's angry tirade washed over her. She was hardly paying attention. It was so predictable what the regal earth dragoness would scold her for; she didn't need to listen to know what she was saying. Yes, her actions had been reckless, but at least she hadn't put anyone else in danger. She had taken her life into her own paws to avenge her brother, and she didn't regret her actions in the slightest.

She only regretted that she had not succeeded in repaying his murderer in kind.

"Zephira, are you _listening_? What would your brother think?"

Zephira's head shot up and she stared fiercely into the yellow-green eyes of the navy earth dragoness. Selador looked both frustrated and exasperated, but Zephira found she didn't care in the slightest. Let her be frustrated, it had nothing to do with her anyway. Joining the fight had been her choice and her choice alone.

"I won't know what my brother thinks," the white dragoness said darkly, "because he was murdered by the monster I went to get revenge on."

Selador uttered a resigned sigh and sat back, gazing sadly at the frail wind dragoness before her. They were back in her house, in Zephira's room, and the setting sun outside was too choked by clouds to spread any real light through the window. But the lantern hanging above them granted them orange light and left flickering shadows on the walls. Though she couldn't hear them, Selador had no doubt that Myst and Domino were listening on the other side of the door. Nalu had long since been sent home with her father, and was no doubt receiving a similar lecture about leaving the safety of her room.

"You know I'm only concerned about your safety, Zephira," Selador tried in a gentler tone. "The Guardians have trusted you to my care, and trust me when I say I care about you. What would Domino and Myst think if something were to happen to you? Would your brother really want you to die for revenge?"

Zephira looked pointedly away, her jaw tight, unable to come up with a response. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she held them back. She wasn't that weak any more. Only weak dragons cried.

Quietly, Selador crept forward and gathered the white dragoness into a hug before she had a chance to react, enfolding her in her giant navy wings. Zephira tensed in surprise as she was pulled against the older dragoness's underbelly by a gentle paw that was almost as large as her head. She felt small and frail against Selador's sleek but powerful frame, yet somehow warm and safe in her paws.

"I understand how painful this must be for you," Selador whispered so that only Zephira, and not the eavesdroppers by the door, could hear. "I know what it's like to lose everything; to feel as though there's nothing left for you to hold on to. But there are dragons who care about you, don't ever think otherwise. You are precious, Zephira. And we love you. So please, _please_…don't throw your life away. Don't think your only reason to go on is for revenge. You are so much more than that."

Though she closed her eyes and tried to stop it, she couldn't help the tears that rolled down her pale cheeks. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Zephira buried her face in Selador's underbelly and wished she was stronger. Wished she didn't have to cry. Selador merely held her, unspeaking, knowing no words of comfort would help here.

The silence must have aroused the curiosity of the listeners at the door, for suddenly the door creaked open and two small heads peered into the dark room. Selador looked up and smiled, beckoning the hatchlings inside. Domino led Myst into the room, making sure she didn't bump into the door on her way, and Selador extended a wing to welcome them into the embrace. Zephira shifted as she felt two small warm forms press against her, but she didn't pry her face away from Selador's scales. She knew Myst couldn't see, but all the same she didn't want to show her tears.

"Will everything be alright?" Myst whispered, and Zephira wasn't sure if she was talking to her or Selador. Luckily, the earth dragoness saved her the answer.

"Everything will be fine," she assured the tiny blind dragoness. "Perhaps not now, perhaps not for a long time, but eventually…everything will be fine. You'll see."

Domino wrapped a paw around Zephira's foreleg and rubbed his cheek against her shoulder. "I wish Roku was here. He always makes everything better."

A smile tweaked Zephira's mouth. The mention of Domino's older brother sparked thoughts of her friends. She hoped, wherever they were, they were safe and together. She missed them more than anything, and yet the memory of them—_her_ _friends_—still made warmth bloom in that hollow space in her chest. Wherever they were, she trusted them to come back safe soon.

"I'm sure Roku's thinking about you every day," Selador whispered to the black and white hatchling. "And I'm sure all of them will come back as soon as they can. Spyro will take care of them."

Zephira's weak smile strengthened slightly and she was relieved to find the flow of tears had halted. Spyro would take care of them. They would take care of each other. She had no doubt.

"Now then," said Selador after a lengthy silence, releasing her three charges from her embrace and lowering her head to Domino's level. "You two should already be in bed. It's already dark outside. Come on."

Domino sighed, but didn't argue, and Myst merely nodded mutely. Selador ushered the black and white hatchling to the door, leaving Myst with Zephira. She returned moments later once Domino was safely tucked away on his bed of cushions, to find Myst had already drifted off beside the older wind dragoness. Zephira looked up as her mentor returned.

"Try to get some sleep," Selador said gently. "You'll need it after today. I'll be in the other room if you need anything."

"W-wait," Zephira stammered suddenly before Selador had a chance to leave again. The navy dragoness glanced back. Zephira hesitated, shifting her bandaged paws anxiously.

"I… There's something I want to do," she mumbled, looking away. "But…I need to know where I can find the panther. The one the cheetahs brought here."

A frown creased Selador's face and she turned around fully to face the white dragoness, "Zephira, I don't think that's a good idea…"

"Please!" The wind dragoness exclaimed, her gaze flying up to meet her mentor's eyes. "I…I need to do this."

Selador gazed upon her with concern. It was hard to read the anguished look on Zephira's face, but the request itself disturbed her. She had already proven herself hostile towards the pantheress in her midst, and Selador could not be sure what it was exactly that the wind dragoness wanted with her. Though she trusted Zephira and the purity of her heart, she also knew grief could drastically warp a dragon's views and decisions. To allow Zephira to go alone to confront this panther did not seem like a wise decision to her.

"I will agree to this on one condition," Selador said at length, and Zephira held her breath as she waited for the verdict. The navy dragoness's eyes drifted down to the sleeping Myst briefly. "I want you to take Myst and Domino with you."

Zephira's eyes flew wide, "Wh-what, but…!"

"No arguments," Selador said sternly, "unless you would rather _I_ escort you."

She was surprised to see a dusting of pink appear on Zephira's white cheeks. The wind dragoness looked away and mumbled, "N-no…"

"Then you will take Myst and Domino with you," Selador said with a tone of finality. "I will likely be assisting the Guardians tomorrow and I won't be able to watch them, so I will leave them in your care. If you wish to see the pantheress, you will have to take them with you. Is that clear?"

Zephira hesitated briefly, but eventually nodded. A feeling of relief washed over Selador. She knew, no matter what, Zephira would never do anything rash in front of those two hatchlings.

"I will show you where to go in the morning," Selador promised, turning back to the door. "Sleep well."

Then the door closed behind her, the lantern flickered out, and Zephira was left staring into the dark with only Myst by her side.

* * *

Like many who had participated in the battle at Warfang, Zephira slept late the next morning. It was nearing midday by the time she left Selador's with directions in her head and two hatchlings bounding at her side—at least, Domino was bounding. Myst walked more sedately, feeling every step, concentrating on a path she couldn't see. Zephira forced herself to walk slowly for the blind hatchling's sake, but her nerves were so on edge that several times she found herself speeding up without thinking. Luckily, Domino was always there to guide Myst back on track if she were to stray. He moved so fast, it was almost as if he could be in two places at once.

Zephira wished she hadn't had to take them along. Watching out for two hatchlings was hard enough without the nervous gnawing feeling in her gut. But, more than that, whatever happened today, Zephira wasn't sure she wanted Myst and Domino there to witness. That thought only worsened her nerves, and each step she took down the corridor—each step closer to that door—seemed harder to take than the last. Her limbs trembled.

"Where are we going, Zeph?" Domino asked for the tenth time, uttering her name in that same sing-song tone he always did. She tried not to falter when he skipped excitedly around her paws before doubling back to Myst's side.

"To see someone," the white dragoness responded vaguely, as she had a few times previously if she had even bothered to answer.

"But _whoooo_?" Domino whined, dragging out the latter word impatiently. Zephira didn't reply. Huffing under his breath, Domino twisted his face into a pout. Somehow, Myst seemed to sense his expression.

"If Zephira doesn't want to say, she doesn't have to," murmured the little scarred hatchling.

Domino mumbled something that Zephira couldn't hear, but her attention was no longer on the two hatchlings. Rather, she found herself staring at a certain door, beyond which lay her reason for being here. Licking her lips nervously, she stopped outside and stared up at the plain slab of wood. It was hardly imposing, but something about it intimidated her. The way it loomed over her, the way it obscured what lay beyond—the fact that, when it opened, it could lead to either hope or despair.

"Um…are you gonna knock?" Domino asked, craning his head around to look at her face. Zephira ushered him and Myst behind her with her good wing. Then, steeling her nerves, she raised her paw.

She knew she should have expected Hunter to answer, or at least one of the other cheetahs, but the sight of him standing in the doorway still made her falter. She felt the confidence she had been building start to bleed away under his surprised and curious gaze. A beat of silence passed between them. Zephira opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again when words refused to come. She cringed as a frown marred Hunter's face.

"Zephira?" was all he asked. The wind dragoness shuffled her bandaged paws nervously.

"What's going on?" Domino whined impatiently, craning his head around Zephira again. Myst stumbled and moved with him when she felt him move out from behind Zephira. Hunter stared at them.

"You have friends…" the cheetah murmured, eyes widening with confusion. Zephira made a strange noise, like a cross between a cough and a squeak.

"Is she here?" the wind dragoness stammered out in a rush before her nerve failed her again.

Hunter's eyes narrowed and darkened ever so slightly. "Who?"

Zephira gulped wordlessly several times before forcing the words past her lips. "The…the…p—"

"Me," said a soft voice, and Hunter jumped. He stepped aside in surprise to find Terra standing behind him, paws twisting the front of her tunic as she gazed nervously at the dragoness. Zephira's eyes widened and a sudden iciness coursed through her stomach. It took a moment to free her tongue from the roof of her mouth, but all she said was a single word.

"You."

Domino stared wide-eyed and uttered a hushed "oh" of sudden understanding. Myst swung her sightless eyes towards the sound of the new voice, but her furrowed brow suggested she had not recognised it. Perhaps it was the tenseness in the air, but something discouraged her from asking what was happening.

Hunter leaned a hand on the doorframe suddenly, extending an arm between Zephira and Terra in the process—which was no doubt intentional. He eyed the dragoness warily. "What did you want with Terra?"

"I wanted…" Zephira trailed off, glancing nervously from Hunter to Terra and back again. She didn't fail to notice the concerned, almost protective air that Hunter was suddenly projecting, and Terra's anxiety was all too plain to see.

"I wanted…" The words stopped again, her tongue suddenly becoming lead in her mouth. Domino was watching her curiously and she could feel Myst's confused shifting beside her.

Terra bit her lip. Hunter opened his mouth to speak, frown deepening.

"Iwantedtoapologise!" Zephira stammered out as quickly as her tongue would allow. Everyone stared at her, but only Terra seemed to have understood what she'd said. Hunter just looked bemused.

"What'd she say?" Domino stage-whispered to Myst. Zephira felt her face burn.

"I-I want…to apologise," she repeated, slowly this time. She didn't dare meet Hunter or Terra's eyes as she spoke. Even after she'd spoken, Zephira stared at her bandaged paws and remained silent.

There was a shuffling of fabric, the sound of padded paws on wood, and then Zephira realised someone was crouching in front of her. She didn't trust herself to look up; her heart felt like it was trying to burst out of her chest already.

"You…want to apologise…to me?"

Almost automatically, Zephira raised her head. Her heart leapt into her throat and lodged there, and for a moment she couldn't breathe. Deep blue eyes stared back at her, and for a heart-stopping second she imagined them filled with hate and cruel, malicious amusement. But then the image passed and she saw they were only filled with unsure concern. The dark fur was the same; black as a starless, cloudless night sky. Even the shape of her face recalled memories of murderers, and Zephira floundered for several icy moments in confusion, distrust and the overwhelming urge to flee.

The horror must have shown on her face, for Terra's expression quickly crumpled into hurt and what might have been guilt. Zephira blinked furiously and stepped away, ushering Myst and Domino back with her, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn't realise she was shaking her head at first, her eyes never leaving the panther's face. She wanted to run. But then Zephira felt her hind leg come into contact with a small form, stopping her in her tracks and jolting her out of her stupor. She glanced back to see it was Myst she had bumped into and saw the blind dragoness's face was contorted with confusion.

Silently, Zephira turned around and pressed her face to the hatchling's chest. She felt Myst stagger in surprise, but kept her balance long enough for Zephira to pull her closer with a forepaw. The scarred hatchling raised an unsure paw until it connected with Zephira's cheek, and just that small movement was enough to reassure the trembling older dragoness. Her face still pressed to the confused hatchling, Zephira took a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she heard Myst murmur beside her head. "Who were you talking to?"

"It's okay… I'm okay…" Zephira mumbled shakily, hugging the hatchling closer. She felt Myst's paw trail gently down her cheek and a smile tweaked her mouth. "I need to do this."

"Do what?" Myst whispered. "If I can help…"

"You're already helping," Zephira whispered, stroking her trembling paw down the hatchling's back. With a shaky breath, she released Myst and turned back to Terra.

The panther was still crouching on the floor, Hunter standing in the doorway behind her. Neither had made any move to interrupt the sudden embrace between dragons, and for that Zephira was grateful. Domino was watching silently, his jaw tight and his tail drooping. Something about his stance made Zephira wonder if he was trying to mimic his absent brother. Another smile tweaked her mouth. In her moment of weakness, he was trying to be strong.

"What can I do?" Terra asked suddenly, softly, and Zephira tore her eyes off Domino. The panther's eyes were full of pain at the anguish she was clearly causing the white dragoness. Zephira felt her inhibitions start to fade.

"You've done enough," she said, though it came out harsher than she was intending. Terra winced, and Hunter's brow furrowed.

"N-no, I mean…" Zephira stammered and trailed off, her face burning again. She looked to Myst for help, and just the sight of the blind dragoness seemed to calm her. Sighing, Zephira returned her gaze to Terra.

"You've already done enough to prove yourself," she said. She gazed at Terra's face, desperately trying to separate it from the shadows that still haunted her nightmares. "You've…already shown me that you deserve acceptance. That…you aren't like the ones who took my brother from me."

Though Zephira didn't see it, behind her, comprehension dawned across Myst's face.

Fighting against the force that urged the words she was saying were wrong, the wind dragoness forged bravely onward. Her voice grew strained and her vision blurred behind a thin layer of hot tears. "Y-you didn't deserve the way I t-treated you earlier, and I… I…"

The words refused to come. Zephira gaped helplessly, trying to force past the block that her heart had erected. She tried to see the kind-eyed panther in front of her, but all that swam before her eyes were the images of cold-eyed murderers. No matter how she tried, no matter how she wanted to, she couldn't disconnect their faces.

"I-I…I'm…s—"

Her voice broke when warm arms enveloped her, pulling her into a sudden embrace and blurring her vision with dark fur. Her body went rigid, her face froze, and tears spilled openly down her cheeks. The panther's arms trembled around her, but they were strong, warm and somehow comforting.

"I-It's okay," Terra stammered beside her ear. "Y-You don't have to say it, I understand. I…understand…"

Her voice cracked. "I-I'm so s-sorry… I'm sorry about your brother, I'm sorry for what they did, I'm s-sorry I wasn't there to stop them, I'm sorry I c-can't change it! I-I'm sorry."

Zephira's jaw tightened, her teeth gritted together, and she pushed her forehead against the panther's soft chest. A heavy sob wracked her body, but nobody saw the tears that streamed down her pale cheeks. Nobody else but Terra heard the choked apology that finally made its way past her lips. Nobody else needed to hear it.

"Domino," Myst murmured, "what do you see?"

The black and white hatchling jumped and looked confusedly at her. Then he blinked in understanding and glanced back at Zephira and Terra again. For a moment he just stared, wondering how to explain what he was seeing to the blind dragoness. She waited patiently until Domino spoke. He only said two words, but they were enough.

"They're hugging."

Myst smiled.

* * *

The late afternoon sun glowered solemnly upon the grasslands, shedding fiery light upon two panthers and a would-be traitor. The dragon in question had found himself lucky enough to be treated like a guest by the dark cats, though the elite guard had formed a rough circle around him and their leaders out of precaution. They kept close enough that they could swiftly act should the dragon make any move to attack, but gave their leaders enough space that their conversation with their scaly guest remained private. None of the other panthers dared to approach the protective ring of assassins.

"So tell me, Chasm, what would drive a young dragon such as yourself to turn your back on your entire tribe and come to us?" Skulk asked smoothly, an almost amused twinkle in his eyes. "I believe that's called treason."

"We seem to be dealing with betrayal a lot today," Skelos mused aloud, resting his cheek on his paw as he observed their dragon guest.

Chasm shifted uncomfortably, casting a grim glance towards the assassins lingering around them. He felt exposed and vulnerable here, surrounded by creatures the rest of his race considered enemies. But he was here for a reason; he just had to remember what that reason was.

"There's something I want," the green dragon said slowly, frowning. "Something you can help me get that no dragons will help me with."

"And that is?" Skulk asked lazily, while his twin scrutinised Chasm's expression closely.

Skelos knew that look. Chasm's next word was so predictable, he could have spoken it with him, but he merely refrained from rolling his eyes instead.

"Revenge."

"Oh goody," Skulk drawled, his voice dripping with boredom and sarcasm. "Who would have guessed…a dragon betraying his own kind for _revenge_. Try a less predictable answer next time."

Chasm looked highly affronted, and more than a little embarrassed that their reactions had been far different to what he had expected. Where were the shallow gasps of surprise; the sudden dark looks of malicious interest?

"Now that your big secret is out in the open, mind filling us in on the rest?" Skelos asked mockingly, looking every bit as bored as his brother had sounded. "Who's the…unlucky dragon?"

The green dragon snorted and narrowed his eyes. Maybe his next answer would make them change their tune. In as dark a voice as he could muster, he replied, "The purple dragon."

Skulk threw his head back with a loud bark of laughter, startling some of the elite guard who passed their leader strange looks. Hearing either of them laugh was rare, and somewhat unnerving. Skelos hid a grin behind his paw as his twin chuckled, paw over his eyes. Chasm stared, aghast and offended, his mouth half open.

"The…the _purple dragon_," Skulk stammered, wiping his eyes with the back of his paw as his chuckles subsided. "That's priceless."

"He sure does make himself a lot of enemies," Skelos agreed, eyes twinkling with mocking merriment. "You know, for a minute there, I thought he was actually going to say something unexpected. Shame."

"I suppose not all of us are gifted with unpredictable motives."

"What is wrong with you two?! Why are you laughing?!" Chasm exclaimed suddenly, jumping to his feet and looking furious. The assassins started, but the twins quickly waved them away, and they remained standing rigid around them, watching the green dragon suspiciously.

"You'll have to forgive us," Skulk said with a grin. "See, it seems to me any dragon who betrays his kind does it for revenge on the purple dragon."

"I guess we were expecting something…_different_ this time," Skelos added, smirking. "But you proved us wrong."

Chasm ground his teeth together in fury, turning a vicious glare from one to the other before sitting down with a bump. His face contorted into a bad-tempered pout and he looked pointedly away from the twins, like a hatchling that hadn't got what it wanted. The panthers exchanged grins.

"Alright, we've had our fun," Skelos said suddenly, wiping the grin from his face. "So tell us, what did the purple dragon do to get on your bad side?"

"Must have been something bad to make you want to betray _all_ the dragons."

Chasm turned a dark glance on the twins. "He tried to kill me."

The panthers sat up straighter, and Skelos's eyes widened ever so slightly. "That's something different…"

Seeing that he had their attention now, Chasm suppressed a smirk and continued. "It was an unprovoked attack. I was talking to a few friends and he suddenly flew into a rage. He was like a demon, trying to tear me apart. Luckily I managed to beat him off and he ran away, but not before he did _this_."

At this point, Chasm raised his bad foreleg and extended it towards the twins. They leaned closer to see the thick, ropey scars that spider-webbed across his earthy scales, mementos that horrendously deep wounds had left behind. They crawled up his leg towards his shoulder and over his ribs, ending near his flank on the right side.

"I haven't been able to walk properly on this leg since," Chasm said grimly, retracting his limb and folding it in front of his chest again. "But I was lucky. At least I got out alive."

"Interesting," Skulk murmured, tapping his chin with a claw. "I wouldn't have pegged the purple dragon capable of attacking someone in cold blood, let alone with the intent to kill."

"Perhaps he _is_ another Dark Master on the rise…" Skelos said darkly. Chasm gave him an odd look, but it quickly passed.

"If that's not bad enough," the green dragon continued, eager now that he had their full attention, "he wasn't even punished. In fact, the Guardians seemed to think it was my fault. If you ask me, they've all been duped by this purple dragon. He's got them wrapped around his claws. Even _her_…"

Skulk's ear twitched, "Ah, so there's a dragoness involved, is there?"

Chasm scowled, "So what if there is?"

"Nothing," Skelos said quickly, waving a paw. "It seems like your reasons for being here are clear enough. You want us to help you get revenge on the purple dragon, yes?"

"But what are _you_ going to offer _us_?" Skulk finished.

Chasm faltered, "I…hadn't thought that far ahead. I thought that you might…have some sort of need…"

Skelos sighed heavily, "You don't really know how negotiations work, do you? Skulk, what do you think? Do we have a need for him?"

"Oh, I'm sure we can come up with something. Having a pair of eyes inside the Dragon City—eyes that don't have to remain hidden, mind you—could be very useful."

"Yes! I can spy for you! I…I can let you know their plans and…and…" Chasm trailed off, trying desperately to think of things that a spy would do.

"Keep an eye on the Guardians, as you call them," Skelos cut in suddenly, his eyes sparking with a sudden idea. "They are the head of your city, aren't they?"

Chasm nodded slowly, "From what I've seen, yeah. Them and the council pretty much run the place."

"Including the armed forces?"

"Um…sort of? There's another dragon who's part of the council... They call him Captain of the Guard. He's pretty much in charge of the war forces."

"This council…" Skulk said slowly, "how many are there?"

"Er…" Chasm paused, counting on his talons and frowning. It was a moment before he responded uncertainly. "Maybe…eight? Four guardians…the elders…and the other council members… No, it's probably closer to ten."

"And they are all adult dragons?"

"Yeah. Two of them are elders. They're, like…super old."

Skelos and Skulk exchanged looks brimming with dark eagerness. It was all too clear that they were sharing each other's thoughts. Chasm watched them uncertainly, wondering what they were thinking about and what the verdict would be. Would they really have a use for him?

"Chasm, have you ever heard the saying 'cut off the head and the body will die'?" Skulk asked suddenly. Chasm blinked dumbly.

"Er…I think so."

"Say the entire Dragon City is one body…" Skelos said, scratching a wide circle in the dirt in front of him with a claw. He added a smaller circle to one side, just overlapping the larger. "…and this council is its head. What do you think would happen if we say…got rid of them?"

He dragged his claws over the smaller circle with one vicious jerk of his paw, obliterating it and leaving four jagged grooves in its place. Chasm stared at the crude drawing in the dirt, looking vaguely disturbed but very interested.

"The city would…die?"

"If what you say about this council is true, the city could fall into disarray without their leaders to corral them," Skulk explained, picking up from his twin without missing a beat. He pointed a claw at Chasm. "And that is where you come in."

"If you want to be useful to us, and so secure your chances for revenge, you can start by spying on this council of yours. If we are to bring them down without a full-scale battle, we need to know _everything_. I can think of no better spy than a dragon."

Chasm stared from one to the other, "So…that's it? I just have to spy on them?"

"Keep an eye on them, pass us as much information as you can," Skelos said, nodding.

"And don't be afraid of getting your paws dirty," Skulk added with a dark grin. "After all, we might need you to. Do you think you can handle it?"

Chasm hesitated, but only for a split second. With a scowl, he replied, "If it means revenge on Spyro—I mean, the purple dragon—I can handle anything. I just have two conditions."

"Conditions already…you are a daring little dragon," Skulk smirked. "Go on."

Chasm scowled. "I want to be there when you destroy the purple dragon. I want him to know that it was me who had a paw in his demise. I don't even care if I get to destroy him myself or not, I just want him to know I helped destroy him."

"That's easily arranged. And the other?"

"There's a black dragoness… The purple dragon's _companion_." Chasm grimaced. "I want her unharmed and turned over to me once the purple dragon is gone. _Unharmed_, you hear me?"

Skulk's grin widened slightly, "After the purple dragon's mate, are you? Daring indeed."

"Is that a yes or a no?" Chasm snapped, eyes flashing.

"We accept your conditions," Skelos agreed with a solemn nod. The green dragon sat back looking satisfied.

"Well then," Skulk said, stretching his arms over his head before getting to his feet. "Are we all decided? You had best return to your city, dragon, before anyone becomes suspicious about your absence."

Chasm blinked, "So…so that's it? We're in alliance now?"

"That's it," Skulk agreed, grinning and extending a paw towards the green dragon.

Chasm took the offered paw hesitantly, meeting the panther's eyes as he did so. There was something about their dark, ocean-blue depths that disturbed him, but he couldn't quite put his talon on what it was. Skulk gripped his paw firmly before releasing him.

"For better or worse, we are your allies now, Chasm."

The green dragon gulped and nodded, stepping back. He glanced at Skelos, who nodded, and then at the elite guard still lurking around them. They appeared to have relaxed now, but their eyes still followed him closely and he knew they were ready for anything. Feeling strangely unsatisfied, though the deal had been made, Chasm turned to leave.

He felt the panthers watching him as a sphere of green power began to materialise around him, mostly shielding him from their eyes. The earth beneath him rumbled and sank, taking him with it, creating a deep, circular pit in the middle of the grasslands.

"What exactly are you doing?"

Chasm looked up to find the twins standing at the edge of the pit he'd made, staring down at them. "I have to get back to the city without getting detected somehow. I _am_ the strongest earth dragon at the Academy, you know."

Then, smirking at their bemused expressions, he took a step forward into the edge of the pit. The earth parted willingly as it came into contact with the sphere of energy still encasing his body, and step by step he forged a perfect tunnel below the ground. The earth mended itself behind him as he went, until there was no trace of the pit or tunnel left behind. In darkness, with only the earth and his elemental powers to guide his way, Chasm continued onwards to Warfang.

Skulk and Skelos watched in amazement as the pit filled itself in as quickly as Chasm had created it, taking with it the last trace of the green dragon. They looked towards the distant city on the horizon, wondering if the earth dragon truly could find his way back below ground. But that was the least of their worries.

"What do you think?" Skelos asked after a moment of silence. "Can he be trusted?"

"That's not what I'm worried about," Skulk said grimly. "You saw the way he acted. He's still very much a child with a grudge. He has no idea what it means to be a traitor; to betray his entire race for his own gain. That story he told us…something tells me we only saw his side of it. Sooner or later he's going to realise what he's doing…or what he's _done_, and then I'll be surprised if he doesn't have second thoughts. A petty grudge between adolescents isn't enough to fuel the flames of treason."

"For now I suppose we'll just play along…see if we can't gain something useful from him," Skelos added.

"But when it comes to a time when he is no longer useful to us…"

"Or a time when he turns against us and tries to make amends for his treachery…"

"We will dispose of him."

* * *

This place again. Even dreaming, she knew she had been here before, where the white mist stretched on forever and there was neither land nor sky to form a horizon. Solemnly, Cynder padded through the mist, aware that she was moving but unable to tell if she was even getting anywhere. Not that there was anywhere to get to.

She expected it this time, but her nerves were so on edge that she jumped when the silhouette appeared. It was only a dragon-shaped shadow in the fog, but somehow Cynder knew it was male. She could just make out the shape of his body and the strangely familiar curve of his horns, but nothing more. Fog rippled as the silhouette turned away from her.

'_Follow.'_

"To where?" Cynder wanted to call, but only silence left her lips. She could feel herself speaking, but no sound reached her ears. It was as though she was trapped in a bubble of silence.

'_Help him. He needs you.'_

"Who?" she screamed, but she didn't hear her voice. As the shadow of the dragon began to disappear, Cynder broke into a run. But just like her dreams before, she found that no matter how fast she ran, she never got any closer to the silhouette. Running on the spot, never moving…

'_Help my —'_

"Get away from her!"

Cynder jolted awake with a gasp, her eyes snapping open at the sound of Spyro's furious yell. He sounded more than angry—he sounded scared. It took a moment for the paralysis of sleep to wear off, but when it did, Cynder raised her head to find the purple dragon standing over her. He was looking frantically around the cavern as though he had lost something in the shadows, and his eyes were wide and frightened in the darkness, illuminated by the golden glow of Sparx hovering by his head.

"What…? Spyro?" Cynder asked, slowly sitting up. Around her, the others were also groggily waking up, shocked awake by Spyro's yell.

"There…" the purple dragon gulped and met her eyes, "there was a dragon…standing over you. I swear. A…a grey dragon. Right there."

He gestured shakily at a spot right beside where Cynder had been sleeping, but there was no sign of another dragon. The closest dragon was Ember, but she was lying a few feet away, still half asleep, and her scales were most definitely not grey. Frowning, Cynder looked around the cavern, but the only dragons within were themselves and their friends.

"Spyro…there's no one there," Cynder said gently, eying him anxiously. "Are you sure you weren't dreaming?"

"I-I don't know," Spyro stammered, shaking his head. He looked almost disturbed. "I…had a bad dream and it woke me up, and when I opened my eyes… I saw you sleeping right there and a grey dragon standing over you…watching you. I jumped up and yelled…and he disappeared."

His throat bobbed nervously as he added in a whisper that only Cynder heard, "He looked so…familiar."

Cynder's jaw tightened as she recalled the dream she'd been having only moments before. That the two could be connected seemed foolish, and yet less unlikely than she had expected. She opened her mouth to tell Spyro, but Flame's voice cut across hers.

"Spyro, there's no way another dragon could have got in here, not to mention disappear so quickly." The red dragon gestured towards the mouth of the cave, which was still firmly closed off by thick greyish-green vines. Nothing bigger than a mouse could have squeezed through the gaps in the vines. "How'd you expect him to have gotten through that?"

"I…don't know," Spyro mumbled, wings drooping as he realised the truth of Flame's words. He stared blankly at the pools of light on the floor of the cave, left there by sunlight leaking through the gaps in the vines. There was only silence outside; the storm appeared to have long since passed, and morning had already broken.

Cynder shook her head, putting her dream out of her mind for the moment. Spyro didn't need another thing to worry about. "It doesn't matter; it was probably just the shadows playing tricks on you, Spyro. That or you were dreaming. Regardless, since we're all awake, we should get moving. It sounds like the storm has passed."

"Awake? Speak for yourself," Saffron said, poking her brother, who was still lying on his back and snoring uproariously. "The end of the world couldn't wake this idiot up."

"No, but maybe I can." Kazan grinned, coming up behind her and eying the sleeping dragon maliciously. Saffron cocked an eyebrow, but smirked and slinked out of the way.

"Lazy dragons…" Kazan grunted, lowering his head and positioning his horns by Zannak's side, "…call for drastic measures."

With a jerk of his head, Kazan rammed his horns into Zannak's ribs, tossing the gold dragon off the dirt floor and flipping him over onto his stomach. Zannak woke up coughing as the air rushed from his lungs on impact, uttering a short yelp of unpleasant surprise. The fire dragon grinned as his unfortunate victim turned a vicious glare on him.

"What's the big idea?" the gold dragon exclaimed.

Saffron chuckled softly and Kazan felt a glow of pride at the sound of her laughter. Zannak just looked affronted, but moments later he and Kazan were wrestling in the dirt. His sister rolled her eyes and stepped out of the way, moving to Nadi's side, who was watching them with a frown on his face.

"What's up?" Saffron asked, nudging his ribs. "Never seen two idiots fight before?"

"I've seen plenty sparring matches," Nadi said slowly, "but…they weren't like this."

"This isn't a sparring match," Flame interrupted, moving forward to break up the tussle. "This is morons being morons. Alright, break it up or I'll break you both. We're on a tight schedule here."

"He started it," Kazan grumbled, rubbing a split lip and glowering at his opponent.

"You assaulted me while I was _sleeping_!" Zannak exclaimed, nursing a black eye and looking highly offended.

"And if I hadn't, you'd _still_ be sleeping!"

"Shut up or I'll put you both to sleep permanently," Flame snapped, using his wings to push the arguing pair away from each other. He turned a scrutinising eye on Kazan. "You. Don't assault people when they're sleeping."

"And _you_," Flame turned his glare on Zannak, "stop being lazy. Now let's get out of this dump before it collapses."

"It's quite secure, I assure you," Roku interrupted, and Flame released a sigh full of pent-up exasperation.

"I don't _care_, let's _go_."

"Flame's right," Spyro interrupted, still looking vaguely disturbed, "we need to get a move on. Is everyone ready to go?"

When he was greeted by nods of confirmation from everyone, and a thumbs-up from Sparx, Spyro turned to face the wall of vines he and Roku had erected the night before. With the black dragon's help, it took only a few moments to dismiss the vines, and they eagerly retreated back into the earth from whence they had come. Feeling only slightly drained of elemental energy, Spyro shielded his eyes from the sudden glare of the morning sun. It streamed through the open mouth of the cave, revealing the aftermath of the storm.

"Glad we didn't sleep outside," Kazan remarked as everyone filed out into the wet grass. Several trees had been torn from the ground by the fierce winds and now lay broken across the ground, while others had branches snapped haphazardly off, which now littered the grass. Shards of wood, bark and broken leaves were strewn all around them, and droplets of water clinging to the grass still shimmered in the morning light.

"You'd either be in pieces or…drowned," Zannak agreed brightly, sloshing through the muddy slush that the downpour had turned the dirt to.

"Where now, Spyro?" Cynder asked. The purple dragon was standing at the mouth of the cave, looking around cautiously. Cynder wondered if he was looking for the grey dragon.

"We need to go west to the Midnight Mountains, Ignitus said," Spyro said, turning slowly until he was facing away from the sun. "That way."

Cynder nodded silently, then glanced around to make sure everyone else was occupied with examining the damage the storm had caused. She leaned in close to the purple dragon and murmured gently. "Is everything alright with you? You're not still worried about the dragon you saw, are you?"

Spyro sighed and met her eyes briefly before looking away. "I'm not sure. I want to believe it was just a dream, but… It seemed so real. And yet, he looked like… Well, it's impossible. I don't know what to think."

The black dragoness hesitated, pondering the dream she'd had several times already. Would it return again the next time she fell asleep? But as she gazed at Spyro's worried face, she didn't have the heart to tell him. It would only give him another cause to worry.

"I'm sure it was nothing, Spyro," Cynder assured him, wishing she could assure herself the same thing. "Let's just focus on what Ignitus wants us to do."

The purple dragon nodded without a word, and Sparx chose that moment to interrupt.

"What are you two lovebirds whispering about?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes and folding his twiggy arms.

"Nothing, Sparx," Cynder sighed, shooing him away with a wing. "Nothing that concerns a _dragonfly_, anyway."

"Hey!" Sparx dodged her wing and flew around to glare at her face, hands on his hips. "Just because I'm a little guy doesn't mean I'm any less important! Spyro, tell her!"

Spyro smirked half-heartedly, "You are pretty important, Sparx. But there are some things we'd like to keep to ourselves."

"We? As in you two?" Sparx pointed from one to the other, looking affronted. "Fine, I see how it is! Excuse me while I go find someone who _does_ appreciate me."

Grumbling to himself, the golden dragonfly hovered over to Nadi instead. Spyro watched him go almost guiltily.

"I really haven't been paying as much attention to him as I used to…" the purple dragon mumbled quietly, wings drooping. Cynder eyed him sadly and moved over to nuzzle his cheek. He moved his face away and she sat back looking disappointed.

"You've had a lot on your mind, Spyro," she said gently. "Sparx can't expect to have you all to himself any more, not like it was when you were younger. Back then it was just the two of you. He just has to get used to sharing you. And so do I."

"Does that bother you?"

Cynder smiled sadly, but refrained from nuzzling him again. She had a feeling she wasn't entirely forgiven for the Poison Claws incident just yet. "A little. But I'm glad to see you with so many friends who care about you. You might not belong solely to me any more, but that doesn't mean I don't get to be with you at all. And I…like the moments I get to spend with you, even if they're short and rare."

Spyro gave her a strained smile, but she could see the gratitude in his eyes, even if he had trouble expressing it. "When all this is over, I owe you a day or two just to spend time with you."

"When all this is over…I hope we'll have much more than a day or two. And you should offer that to Sparx, too. I'm sure he'd appreciate it." Cynder winked and brushed his cheek with a wing. "Now, come on. We've got a long way to go."

"Yeah…we do."

The morning sun was the only witness to the group of adolescent dragons and one dragonfly as they took to the sky and headed on towards the west. Spyro took the lead once more, though he dropped back slightly to keep Cynder in his peripheral view. He eyed her sleek form as she flew beside him, but they were dark thoughts that cycled in his head as he watched her.

'_Who's to say we'll have anything left when all this is over?'_

* * *

"So, tell me about yourself," Saffron said casually.

"About me?" Nadi asked, looking bemused by the question. "What do you want to know?"

It was midday and the gang had once again stopped for lunch. Saffron had offered to be Nadi's 'guard' for the day, and already their hunt had proved successful. They sat on an outcropping of rock, disposing of the last scraps of two fat voles that had proved a satisfying meal. The grasslands were wide, but not entirely flat, broken up by clumps of rock and tough vegetation. The others had yet to return from the hunt.

"Whatever you want to tell me," Saffron replied with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. Nadi considered her for a moment, looking surprised that someone was showing so much interest in him.

"Uh, well…" the wind dragon paused, looking thoughtfully towards the sky. The clouds were clearing after the storm the previous night, and a vivid blue sky was peering through. Seemingly at a loss, he started with a question of his own. "What don't you know?"

Saffron hesitated. "I…know about your past and why you had to leave your village… But what about _you_? Like…what do you like? What did you do back at your village? I've never seen a wind dragon colony before…"

Nadi shrugged, "There's not much to tell. It was small, there were only a hundred or so of us…guess that's why the disease spread so quickly. We were all pretty close because there were so few of us, but I never really got along with others my age. Most of the time I only talked to my father…and my little sister."

Saffron opened her mouth to ask about this little sister, but faltered when she realised the subject was a potentially painful one. No doubt she had died with the rest of his village when the disease had swept through. She opted for a less personal question instead.

"So what did you do when you weren't with your family? I mean…surely you would have wanted some time to yourself, if not with friends."

Nadi flexed his dark wings, a smile crawling across his face, "I practiced."

The yellow dragoness looked him over curiously, "Practiced? You mean…flying?"

"Sort of…" Nadi trailed off and looked towards the sky again, falling into silence for a moment. Saffron didn't see fit to rush him, and waited patiently for him to continue. For the moment she was content just to look him over, appreciating the strong muscles she could see rippling under his scales at the base of his wings. He was a strong flier, that much was apparent.

"My element and flying go paw in paw," Nadi continued moments later, and Saffron quickly looked away from his muscles and met his eyes instead. Yet again she was reminded sharply of red spirit gems. "So yeah, I guess you could say I practiced flying, along with my element. I loved the adrenaline rush, really. If you could see the amount of tricks I pulled…"

He grinned roguishly and Saffron felt her stomach do that strange tap-dance again. "Well, let's just say it's a wonder I didn't break my neck a long time ago."

"So…I guess you would call yourself a dare-devil," Saffron said teasingly, eyes glinting. Nadi smirked but didn't reply. Another brief silence encompassed them until Saffron broke it again.

"You know…you seem less shy when we're just talking like this." She paused. "You seem so much more…carefree. Like you care less about what everyone else thinks about you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No!" Saffron exclaimed, then blushed and stammered. "I-I mean…no, I…like that side of you. It kind of reminds me of my brother, only less…moronic, I guess."

Nadi laughed softly and Saffron smiled. The wind dragon glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a daring yet somehow appreciative look that made her feel strangely hot. She looked away, smiling to herself.

"It's a lot easier to open up to someone when you're alone with them," Nadi said. "When you're not afraid that everyone around you is going to judge you…distrust you…blame you…"

His voice grew dark with bitterness and Saffron felt a shiver crawl down her spine when she noticed the dark look in his eyes. Suddenly they looked less like spirit gems and more like fresh blood. But the image passed so quickly that she wondered if she had imagined it. Nadi took a deep breath and tipped his head back.

"I guess that was why I had trouble making friends. I was always so afraid of being judged by them…of them thinking that there was something different…something _wrong_ with me. I never really got a chance to talk to them one on one and show them the real me."

He turned a grateful smile on Saffron, and her stomach flip-flopped violently. "But I like this. Being able to talk with you and…not be afraid of being myself. This is…kind of the first time I've actually talked to a dragoness alone. That isn't my sister, I mean."

Saffron's cheeks burned and she turned her face towards the cool wind, wondering what on earth was wrong with her. It was a moment before she drew up the courage to reply. "I…like this too."

"So what about yourself?" Nadi asked at length, and Saffron looked surprised. "I told you a bit about me, only fair you repay the favour, right?"

The yellow dragoness laughed nervously, "I…well… I don't know what to say. I grew up underground with most everyone who left Warfang during the war. It was only a year ago that we all came back to the city, so living in the sun is actually kind of new to me."

"Really? That's…unusual. What about your parents?"

Saffron's face darkened, "My father died in the war. My mother…"

Nadi eyed her carefully when her voice trailed off, and he quickly noticed the bitterness in her violet eyes. He was just thinking of a way to change the subject when she spoke again.

"She abandoned us," her voice was so choked with bitterness that there could have been venom in her mouth. "Got up one day and left the caverns. Never came back. My brother and I were left to fend for ourselves. …I won't forgive her. Never."

The bronze dragon shifted uncomfortably, "I…guess neither of us really like talking about our parents then, huh?"

Saffron uttered a wordless noise of agreement. Then her face brightened and she turned to meet his eyes again. "But anyway… I grew up with a wind dragoness called Zephira. She's like a sister to me…and my best friend. We had to leave her at Warfang when we left, though… She lost one of her wings in an attack. But that wasn't even the worst of what she lost…"

"Attack…" Nadi repeated slowly, frowning. "The panthers? The same ones that attacked you back at the swamp? Where we met?"

"Yeah," Saffron said darkly. "I guess you don't know much about them."

"Only what Roku's told me. He says the Dragon City is at war with them. And that they want to take the valley where the cheetahs live. I…don't get it, really. Why get in the way when their quarrel is with the cheetahs?"

"Because the cheetahs are our friends," Saffron said sharply, and Nadi shut his mouth quickly, looking alarmed by her sudden ferocity. She sighed. "But I guess you weren't to know that. They were the dragons' allies during the war, even though I wasn't there to see it. We wouldn't abandon them now."

"…They're lucky to have such devoted allies."

"I guess."

Again they lapsed into silence, this one slightly frostier than before. Saffron was staring at her talons, thinking bitter thoughts about the panthers, her mother, and Zephira's lost wing. She almost jumped when Nadi's voice broke into her reverie again.

"What about the purple dragon? What do you think of him? Have you been friends for long?"

Saffron looked met his eyes curiously, "Spyro? Well…I've known him for several months, I guess. Since we left the caverns and returned to Warfang. But I wouldn't have called him a _friend_ until a few weeks ago. He's a nice enough guy, if a bit distant. He seems to have a lot on his mind lately; I haven't really had a chance to get to know him better."

She fixed Nadi with a scrutinising gaze, "Why the sudden interest?"

"I-I, it's not… I mean," he stammered, then rolled his eyes at himself and took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. "He's the purple dragon, isn't he? He's a hero… Took down the Dark Master himself—the very monster that drove the wind dragons into hiding hundreds of years ago. And yet he seems just like a normal adolescent dragon just like any other. I can't help being interested."

"I guess so." Saffron smirked and looked out over the grasslands, her eyes thoughtful. "He's a good friend; always determined to protect us, always devoted. I think we're lucky to have him. And I guess that makes Cynder the luckiest of all… We'll always stand by him, that's for sure. And maybe when everything has settled down again, we can get to know him better. I'd like to know who he is behind the hero mask."

Nadi didn't respond after that, but Saffron caught him frowning towards the horizon and wondered what he was thinking. She didn't inquire, and the two sat in silence for some time, until a commotion below drew their attention. Spyro had suddenly rushed into view, Cynder hard on his tail, staggering to a halt nearby and looking frantically towards the north.

"I saw it, I swear! It was right there!" the purple dragon's voice drifted up to the watching dragons, taut with alarm and frustration. "Running…that way! I swear it was there!"

"Spyro, stop it! There was _nothing_ there!" Cynder exclaimed.

"What's going on down there?" Saffron asked Nadi with a frown. The wind dragon shook his head slowly.

"Dunno…"

"Come on," the electric dragoness said suddenly, leaping down off the rocky outcrop. Nadi leapt after her, and they waded through the tall grass towards the arguing pair.

"I know what I saw!" Spyro exclaimed, just as the bronze and yellow dragons approached. He glanced towards them briefly, and Saffron couldn't help noticing how shaken he looked. Cynder looked worried and more than a little nervous. Her left foreleg, where she always kept her deerskin satchel tied, kept twitching almost of its own accord.

"It must have been a trick of the light," the black dragoness said, sounding as though she wanted to convince herself as much as Spyro. "I didn't see anything. How can you explain that?"

"What's going on?" Saffron interrupted before Spyro had a chance to respond. Cynder sighed.

"Spyro thinks he saw that dragon again…the same one he says he saw in the cave this morning. But I didn't see anything, even though I was with him when he saw it."

"I don't know how you couldn't have seen it," Spyro said, sounding frustrated. He paced backwards and forwards, glaring towards the north. "It was right _there_… running that way. It was like…it wanted me to follow."

"But that's in completely the wrong direction," Cynder argued. "We're supposed to be going _west_."

"I _know_, I just…" Spyro cut himself off with a heavy sigh and sat down with a bump, staring anxiously towards the north. Nadi and Saffron exchanged curious glances, but Cynder just shook her head and turned away. Saffron noticed her staring anxiously at her satchel, and the leg it was tied to continued to twitch nervously.

"Is everything okay?" the yellow dragoness whispered so that Spyro wouldn't hear. Cynder glanced at her and hesitated.

"It's…" she paused, as though unsure whether to continue or not. Saffron had a feeling she was desperate to tell someone something, but didn't know if it was the right thing to do. A moment later, Cynder gave in to the urge.

"Look, I don't want to tell Spyro yet in case he worries, but the Poison Claws…" Cynder raised the leg her satchel was tied to, shaking it gently. "They keep shaking…like they're alive. And…I feel strange. Like something wants me to go _that_ way."

She jerked her head towards the north, towards the place Spyro was staring towards. "And that's not all… For the last few nights I've been having the same dream. I see a silhouette of a dragon, but I can't make out his features. He keeps telling me to _'help him'_, whoever '_him'_ is. I can't figure out what it means."

Cynder eyed Spyro's rigid back anxiously. "I…feel like these dreams, the Claws, and the dragon Spyro keeps seeing are all connected somehow. I just don't know how. And the only dragon I can think of who would be connected to these signs is…well, dead. It _can't_ have anything to do with him."

"I'd say you need to tell Spyro," Saffron said slowly, after a moment, "but we're already on a mission. A distraction like this could lose us serious time, especially since it's trying to lead you in the wrong direction. I think…maybe you should just ignore it for now. If it continues, and there's no choice, we might have to investigate it, but for now…"

"We need to focus on what Ignitus told us to do, I know." Cynder shook her head and looked away from Spyro to meet Saffron's eyes. "I only hope these signs aren't a bad omen of what's to come."

"Yeah…" Saffron scoffed and sighed, glancing towards Nadi, who was watching Spyro uncertainly as though deciding whether or not to go sit with him. "We've had enough bad omens to last us a life time."

* * *

When night fell, the gang made camp in an abandoned rocky cave to the west of the grasslands. The land here was dotted with rock and sparse vegetation, and the wind howled mournfully as it was forced through thin valleys and crevices. Most of the group, tired after another day of flying, slept peacefully that night, undisturbed by strange dreams. Cynder, however, did not share that luxury. It seemed the moment she closed her eyes, she found herself in the same place again.

'_Help him,' _called the silhouette again, and again Cynder tried to run to him but failed to even get closer.

"Would you just stop and tell me who I'm supposed to be helping?" she screamed into the mist, her frustration breaking free even in her dream. But again, all that came out of her mouth was silence, and she found a sob of frustration building in her throat.

'_Help him…help him…help him…'_

"Tell me who!" Cynder tried to howl. She even felt her voice crack, but still she heard nothing. She would have thought she'd gone deaf if not for the sound of the silhouette's voice. Or maybe the words were just in her head…

Suddenly, to her great shock, the shadowy figure turned around and Cynder realised he was growing closer. She was moving. She was catching up. Features appeared on his face as she galloped closer through the mist, and suddenly she skidded to a halt.

She knew that face.

Icy blue eyes stared into her soul, and this time she heard his voice so clearly that it sounded like he was speaking right beside her head.

"Help my brother."

Cynder shot awake with a noise somewhere between a gasp and a yelp. Her body twitched so violently that she caught Spyro a kick in the ribs with her hind leg. The purple dragon was on his feet almost instantly, which gave Cynder the impression that he'd only been half-asleep. A yell left his lips and he cantered forwards towards the mouth of the cave, only to skid to a halt again, panting.

"I saw him," Spyro said hoarsely as Cynder moved nervously to his side. The others didn't seem to have woken up, except for Sparx, who was sitting dazedly on Spyro's head and seemed to be wondering what had awakened him.

"The grey dragon?" Cynder asked tiredly, sitting down beside him.

Spyro nodded, staring into the darkness, "He was running northward again. He…wants us to follow, I'm sure of it."

The purple dragon turned his eyes on Cynder, and she saw how exhausted and worried he looked. "Why did you kick me? Did something wake you up?"

"I…I…" Cynder heaved a sigh. It was time to come clean. "I had a dream. The same one I've had many times in the last week or so."

Spyro frowned, "What sort of dream? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"I'm already worried."

Closing her eyes, Cynder bowed her head and relented. She told him about the white mist and the silhouette of the dragon, of the words he kept repeating and the way his features remained hidden. She told him how the Poison Claws kept shaking and something was trying to pull her towards the north, but she didn't tell him about the face she had seen in her dream. Moments later, she found she hadn't needed to.

"It's all so strange…" Spyro murmured, "but there's only one dragon who this all fits. Strange dreams, grey, the Claws… But that's impossible."

"He's dead," Cynder agreed solemnly. "Unless what we're seeing is a ghost."

"But…what does he want from us? Revenge? It's my fault he's dead…"

"It's no one's fault," Cynder said sharply, glaring at the purple dragon. Then she shook her head. "Actually…he told me to help his _brother_. Remember what Ignitus said?"

Spyro's eyes widened and he met Cynder's emerald gaze, "Of course…the last living member of the oracle tribe. He told us to find him. But…we're supposed to be going west, not north."

"We can't just ignore this. These dreams are becoming more frequent, and so are your visions. Ignitus told us to find him… Maybe the Magic Crafters can wait for just a bit longer."

Spyro eyed her nervously, "So…you think we should follow him? To the north?"

Cynder stared anxiously into the darkness and was silent for some time. At length, she spoke, her voice heavy with uncertainty. "I don't know if it's the right thing to do…but right now it doesn't seem like something we can ignore. These signs aren't going to stop on their own. We have to do _something_."

Spyro nodded slowly. "I just hope this is what Ignitus would want us to do."

Though it was only shortly after midnight, neither dragon felt like returning to sleep. Sparx was already snoring again on Spyro's head, and his soft glow was slightly comforting in the cold darkness of night. Side by side, Cynder and Spyro sat together, staring into darkness. They had already made up their minds. When the new day dawned, for better or for worse, their new destination would be somewhere to the north, to wherever ghosts and dreams would lead them.

**A/N: I've gotta get this _done._ If I don't, I'm afraid I'll give up on it. This loss of faith and motivation in this story happens far too frequently. D: But, dammit, I've been working on this so long, I can't just give it up. Thank you, everyone, for reviewing or PMing or favouriting or subscribing or just reading... Without you guys I probably would have given up long ago. You know, this story began over two years ago. I want to get it done by the end of summer (or winter for a lot of you guys on the other side of the world). I'm gonna try.**

**The next chapter is already finished, but it could be some time before it's up... I think it's going to need a good chunk of rewriting. Nevertheless, I hope you liked this chapter and thank you for reading~**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: You wonderful, beautiful, glorious people. Thank you everyone who sent me words of encouragement~ It gave me just the motivation I needed to go through with the extensive edits this chapter needed. And now I think it's decent enough to post. Looks like we all survived the apocalypse, and Christmas is just around the corner, so here, have a new chapter, just for you. Please enjoy~**

**30.**

Zephira, Domino and Myst weren't the only dragons who knew about the secret attic in the Atrium. A certain earth dragon had discovered it a few months ago by accident when he had been searching for somewhere to hide after getting into a spot of trouble with another classmate. Chasm took his new alliance seriously. The morning after the battle—after he had returned from his secret detour into enemy territory the previous evening—he had made his way towards the Guardian's quarters. After a few boring hours of hanging around in the street outside, Chasm had overheard them speaking with that cheetah they called Hunter. The words 'council' and 'meeting' were all he needed to hear.

Now, Chasm sat in the very spot Zephira had sat to spy upon the council when Terra had first arrived. The beauty of the light bouncing through the stained glass was lost on the earth dragon, his attention fixed solely on what was occurring below. The council wasn't alone in the Atrium—they had been joined by a trio of cheetahs, the traitorous panther, an older earth dragoness Chasm didn't know, that wind dragoness Zephira, and the two hatchlings that followed her around. Though he didn't know it, the fact that Zephira and her friends had been allowed into the meeting was a blessing for him. Otherwise he may not have found himself alone in the attic.

Normally a meeting like this would have bored Chasm to death, but his eagerness to assist the panthers that had promised him revenge suddenly made it all the more interesting. He was a real spy now. The thought sent a thrill of adrenaline buzzing through his veins. Grinning to himself, he sat still and listened.

"Pantheress Terra, you have been called before the Council of Avalar today to hear the verdict regarding your probation here at Warfang."

Unaware of the eavesdropper in the attic, the council observed as Terra stood before them, twisting her hands nervously behind her back. She nodded at Terrunda, the earth dragoness council member, who had spoken.

"Your guardians, Captain Hunter of Avalar, and Chief Prowlus's personal guard Cougar, have both spoken favourably on your behalf," continued Feldun, the council's resident ice dragon.

"The Guardians of Warfang," said the old electric council member, Moro, "have also observed your actions and have concluded that your intentions for this city and its inhabitants are in our favour."

"Therefore…" Elder Ryokku's wheezy voice cut through the stiffness in the Atrium like a blade through armour. Terra held her breath, and in the stands beside the council, so did Mari. Zephira watched anxiously, fiddling absentmindedly with one of the bandages around her forepaws.

"In good faith, we welcome you, Terra, as a guest in Warfang, and grant you the freedom of a trusted citizen," the dark red elder concluded with a wrinkled smile.

"Your probation is lifted," said the wispy voice of old Mother Seak, the blind wind elder. "As of this day, you are one of us, child."

Terra let out the breath she had been holding, her shoulders visibly sagging with relief. Trembling, she bowed respectfully to the council. "Thank you…all of you."

"Nay, thank you, child," murmured Mother Seak, her voice calm and warm, though cracked with age. "You have proven yourself well, as we had hoped."

"Yes, I dare say we would not have been half as prepared for that battle had it not been for your warning," Terrador cut in, dipping his head towards the pantheress. "We owe you our thanks for risking your own life to help us."

Above them, Chasm glared through the tiny pinhole that was his only window into the Atrium, his gaze focused on the pantheress in the centre of the room. Skulk and Skelos had spoken nothing of her, or even given any indication that they knew about the traitor at Warfang. Was there a chance, Chasm wondered, that they didn't know?

At first he had thought she was a spy for them, a traitor not to her own race but to the cheetahs whose trust she had been trying to gain. That confrontation with her in the alley had done little to change his mind, but now there was no doubt that he had been wrong. If she had been a traitor, she would have acted by now—or at least done _something_ that could have swayed the battle in her tribe's favour. And wouldn't the twin leaders of the panther tribe have mentioned if they _already_ had a spy within Warfang?

Chasm scowled and tapped his claws quietly against his scales, deep in thought and only half paying attention to the conversation below. If Skulk and Skelos didn't know about the traitor in Warfang, surely such a thing would have to be reported to them. Wouldn't it? Chasm bit his lip, uncertain. What if they did know about the traitor? He shuddered to think of their reaction if the only information he could provide was something they already knew.

No. There had to be something more to report. Something he knew for sure the twins would want—no, _need_ to know.

Lucky for Chasm, such a thing presented itself only moments later.

"I take it you plan to return to Avalar?" Terrador asked, his deep voice enveloping the quiet conversation like the rumbling of thunder. Chasm shook the thoughts from his head and listened.

"As soon as possible," Hunter agreed, nodding at the earth guardian. "I think we've been away from the village long enough, and there's no telling where the panthers might strike next."

"Yeah, who knows if they'll try their luck on us again since they lost here," Cougar interrupted, slinging an arm around Mari's shoulders absentmindedly. She shrugged him off, giving him a playful glare.

"The thought is…troubling," Cyril agreed, exchanging grim glances with the other Guardians. "I trust the dragon guard we sent there when you first arrived is still at their posts, but it may not be enough to stave off a full attack. Terrador, your thoughts?"

The green guardian hesitated for a moment, meeting Hunter's eyes and knowing they were thinking the same thing. "Chief Prowlus is too proud to accept more help from us."

"It took some convincing to get him to let even a small amount of guards stay," Seriphos agreed disapprovingly.

"No, he won't accept more," Hunter said, shaking his head. "If there is an attack, we should be able to fend them off long enough for assistance to arrive. But as far as dragon guards… Prowlus may even wish to send the ones already posted there back to Warfang. Sending even more is out of the question."

"Would be nice if he wasn't such a stubborn old coot," Cougar muttered, "but what can you do? He's the chief."

"But if he cannot accept help from his allies, he may not be for long," Hunter murmured grimly. A stale silence fell upon the Atrium, and for several moments no one moved or spoke. Above them, a certain eavesdropper began to feel impatient.

Then a quiet voice broke the silence.

"Will all of you go back?"

Everyone in the Atrium turned to face the one who had spoken, and Zephira forced herself not to shrink under their collective gaze. She was looking at the quartet of cats, but her eyes kept lingering on Terra. The pantheress smiled uncertainly. Hunter glanced from panther to dragoness and seemed to understand.

"Yes, all of us," he said, nodding at Zephira. "I would like for Terra to officially join our tribe, though Prowlus may be less welcoming than your Guardians. But we will all argue her case and I'm sure he'll come around…with a bit of convincing."

"When do you plan to leave?" It was Selador, the navy dragoness, who spoke this time.

"It's already past midday," Hunter mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "it may be too late to make it before nightfall. Still, I would like to return as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning, perhaps. No later."

"If there is anything you need for your trip, do not hesitate to ask," Terrador rumbled, and Hunter nodded his thanks. The earth guardian turned to the rest of the council. "Now, I think we're done here. At least for the moment. There is still much that needs to be done after yesterday's battle…"

Up in the attic, Chasm slipped away, brimming with new information. Surely the twins would want to know the traitor was returning to Avalar.

* * *

Zephira yawned and stretched as she stepped out into the streets of Warfang, leaving the stale air of the Atrium behind. Flexing her bad wing experimentally, she grimaced at her deformity and tucked it securely back against her side. Footsteps from behind alerted her to the presence of her mentor, who had just followed her out of the Atrium. She turned in time to see Domino and Myst trotting ahead of the regal earth dragoness.

"I take it your meeting with Terra went well?" Selador asked as she approached. Zephira nuzzled Myst before raising her head to meet the navy dragoness's eyes. Selador was eying her curiously. "I must admit I was surprised to see you with them when Hunter requested an audience with the Guardians."

The wind dragoness nodded slowly, "It was…difficult. But I'm glad I managed to apologise to her. I shouldn't have been acting the way I was. Oh, and…thanks for making me take these two."

Zephira smiled fondly at Myst and Domino. "I don't think I could have managed it if they hadn't been there."

The blind hatchling smiled shyly and shifted closer to the older dragoness, nuzzling under her good wing. Domino giggled and skipped a half-circle around them before coming to a stop on Zephira's other side. Selador gazed down at the unlikely trio, her eyes soft with affection.

"I am proud of you," she said gently, lowering her head so that she was closer to Zephira's eye-level. "You did a brave thing…and a good thing. Sometimes, there is nothing harder than letting go of your hate, especially when it runs so deep. But it is the first step towards true healing. I'm sure your brother would be proud."

The white dragoness hesitantly touched the tip of her snout to Selador's, closing her eyes. She sensed the warmth of the older dragoness, both physical and emotional, stretching out to encompass her. It had been a long time since she had last felt that motherly glow—so long, in fact, that she almost couldn't remember. It was comforting and protective, and Zephira felt like a hole inside her that she hadn't known was there was closing up.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I don't think I've been able to thank you enough for everything you've done for us. For taking Myst and I in; for caring for us; for believing in me. I…never really knew my mother, but… I hope, if she had lived, she would have been like you. Thank you, Selador."

The navy dragoness raised her head, blinking unusually moist eyes. She cleared her throat and looked away, and Zephira watched her in confusion. It was a moment before Selador responded, and when she did her voice was strangely tight.

"I…never had eggs of my own," she said haltingly. "My duties always came first and I never had a chance to meet that certain special someone I would have wanted to start a family with. When I came to Ethra, the hatchlings there became like my children, but there were so many of them that I never had the chance to grow close to them like a mother would. I…I have always longed for my own. Even now I have started to wonder if I am too old, and what am I to do without someone to start a family with?"

Blinking furiously, Selador turned her eyes back to Zephira, who was gazing at her with awe. She continued in a choked voice. "But you…you have given me what I have never had before. A chance to be a mother—not just a nursery keeper, but a true _mother_. I…I hope I am someone you can rely on and feel safe with. And I will try my best to be that for you."

Zephira smiled. "You already are."

Selador's expression was washed with gratitude and, rubbing a paw across her watering eyes, she leaned down to gather the three young dragons in an embrace. Zephira rested her head over Selador's heart and closed her eyes. The warm, rhythmic thumping recalled memories from long ago—memories of being embraced by a mother. Whether it had been her own mother, or Saffron's, she didn't know. But Selador was here now, and Selador was all she needed.

At length, Selador released them and cleared her throat. "Well then, I had best be going. The Guardians will be needing my assistance. Could I trouble you to take care of these two rascals? I'll see you back home this afternoon."

Zephira nodded, "Of course. We'll keep ourselves busy."

"Good luck," Myst said shyly.

"Let's go exploring!" Domino exclaimed suddenly. Selador smiled at the excitable hatchling.

"Don't cause them too much trouble," she said sternly, fixing him with an eye twinkling with amusement. Domino grinned.

Then, with a wave of her wing, the navy dragoness turned and strode away. She hurried to catch up with Terrador when she spotted him strolling down a nearby street. Zephira watched her go, until Domino pounced on her back and almost knocked her down. Steadying herself, she craned her head to give him a disapproving look, but he just wrapped his paws around her neck and grinned.

"You're much too big for me to carry you," Zephira groaned, shaking her shoulders gently. But the black and white hatchling was not to be dislodged.

"Roku can carry me!" he piped up. "You're strong too. Myst, Myst! You come up too!"

"Oh, but…" the blind dragoness swung her head towards the sound of his voice. "Zephira might collapse then."

"I think…I might collapse already," Zephira gasped. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she flopped onto her side and sent Domino rolling onto the cobblestones. Giggling, he jumped to his feet again.

"Zeph," he whined playfully, pushing his forepaws into her shoulder, "come _on_. I wanna go exploring."

"I don't think I can," the white dragoness sighed, hiding a smile. "You've completely exhausted me. I don't think I can get up."

"Ze-_eph_." Domino pouted and sat down with a bump. Myst giggled softly.

"Um…we're not interrupting, are we?" said a new voice, shy and uncertain.

Zephira instantly rolled onto her stomach and got back to her feet, looking embarrassed. Terra and her cheetah friend were standing nervously nearby, alone. The absence of Hunter and Cougar surprised the wind dragoness, but she made no comment. Her playfulness evaporated instantly, and Domino stepped away, having sensed her sudden tension. He moved to Myst's side almost protectively.

"No," Zephira said slowly, "we were just…"

She trailed off, caught somewhere between nervousness and embarrassment. Terra smiled slightly, looking every bit as tense as Zephira felt. Just that observation was enough to sooth the wind dragoness's nerves, if only slightly.

"I just…wanted to see you before we left tomorrow morning," the pantheress explained hesitantly. "There was…something I wanted to say."

Zephira's violet eyes lightened with interest, but she didn't say anything. Though the apology had gone down well, she could not deny the tension she felt upon facing the dark-furred cat. She only hoped that feeling would fade with time—and that the sight of her would not always recall memories of her brother's murder.

The female cheetah beside Terra nudged her and hissed, "Go on."

Terra took a deep breath. "I know things between us didn't really get off on the right foot, but I…I was really grateful that you took it upon yourself to apologise, even though you didn't have to. I know the sight of me must…make you uncomfortable, after what happened to you. But I-I really…really hope we can…"

The pantheress faltered, and Zephira had the impression that the next words were stuck in her throat. She knew the feeling, and a sudden rush of compassion for the dark cat caught her off guard.

"Be friends?" the wind dragoness finished for her with a small smile. Terra seemed to relax with relief.

"Y-Yes."

For some time, Zephira just observed the pantheress before her, taking in everything she could. Not just the physical appearance—which, despite the memories it recalled, was strikingly beautiful in an exotic sort of way—but all the emotion she could gather from her stance and her eyes. She was distinctly reminded of herself, in both shyness and uncertainty, and of Saffron, in determination and honesty.

"I would like that," Zephira said at length, and was almost surprised to hear the words leave her mouth full of such sincerity. "Even if it takes a long time for us to truly call each other 'friend'. Things between us can only get better from now on, can't they?"

"I hope so. It's all I can ask."

A strange, not-entirely-awkward silence fell then, until it was broken by Terra's cheetah friend.

"I'm Mari," she said brightly, beaming at Zephira. "Who are your friends?"

"Oh…" Zephira turned to introduce the two hatchlings, but Domino beat her to it.

"I'm Domino and this is Myst! Did you wanna come exploring with us?"

"Domino," Zephira hissed, looking embarrassed at how forward the young dragon was. "Don't be overbearing."

Mari giggled. "It's okay, we'd love to go exploring with you. Though I don't know where we'd explore to. It's fine, right Terra?"

The pantheress seemed caught off guard. "I…I guess?"

A whoop of excitement bounced free from Domino and he spun on his heel, slinging a wing over a stunned Myst's back. "Alright, let's go!"

"Hang on!" Zephira exclaimed, looking dazed. "You can't just decide things by yourself!"

"What about Hunter and Cougar…?" Terra mumbled nervously, looking back over her shoulder. But the male cats were further down the street and weren't watching.

"Ah, they'll be fine, leave them," Mari said, linking arms with the panther and pulling her after Domino, who was already skipping down the street with Myst in tow. "Let's have a bit of fun!"

"But…" Terra trailed off when a list of excuses failed to prevent itself, and resigned herself to being dragged along.

Zephira trailed after them, sighing. Her hopes for a quiet afternoon were trickling away like sand between her talons.

* * *

"Remind me again _why_ we're changing course?" Flame grumbled for what might have been the fifth time that morning. Cynder rolled her eyes.

"Because there's something important we need to do in the north," she explained vaguely, as she had the last few times he'd asked. "Now stop asking and just go with it. We'll get back on track as soon as we can."

"I'd like to know what this _something_ _important_ is," the red dragon scowled. "I don't really want to be led on a wild goose chase. I didn't think we could afford any detours, since this Chronicler guy's mission is so important. I shouldn't have to remind _you_ of all dragons about that."

He looked pointedly at the black dragoness, and she looked guiltily away. "I know… But this is something we have to do. I can feel it."

Flame considered her for a moment before shrugging, "Whatever you say. Don't blame me if you lead us to a dead end, though."

Without another word, he dropped back to fly with Ember instead, leaving Cynder to her thoughts. Spyro had been rather secretive about explaining why they were changing course that morning, and though Cynder wasn't sure why, she respected his wishes. As far as she knew, only Saffron had any idea why they were now heading north, thanks to what Cynder had told her the previous day. She was sure Spyro would fill the rest in eventually, when he was ready. But for now, they would just have to trust him.

'_I hope we're doing the right thing…'_ Cynder mused, glancing at her satchel nervously. It had been trembling almost continuously since they had started flying north, and the urge to continue northward was only growing stronger. She flew at the head of the group, as only she knew the way—only she was affected by the strange pull on her consciousness that guided her on. The grey spirit had not shown himself to Spyro since the previous night and, without it, the purple dragon was as good as flying blind.

The group flew in silence, and it was well past midday by the time they found somewhere to stop and hunt. At the edge of a sparse forest, Cynder observed her friends and worried. It was all too clear from their short, irritable exchanges, and the way small things seemed to set them off, that everyone was quickly becoming tired and impatient. They had already been away from Warfang for almost two weeks, if their time at the White Isle really had spanned an entire week. To most of them, it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere or accomplishing anything.

No one complained aloud, though Cynder caught Kazan and Zannak muttering quietly about 'wastes of time'. It was those two in particular that she was worried about. While the others seemed to have accepted they had a duty to do as the Chronicler requested, for Kazan and Zannak it didn't seem to have quite sunk in. Perhaps they were still feeling the ache of the deep wound that had been left by Ciro's death, but something warned Cynder that if anyone was liable to turn and give up on the rest, it was those two. She only hoped she was wrong about them.

The black dragoness had been watching Zannak, who was picking half-heartedly at a thrush he had caught for lunch, when a sudden commotion erupted behind her. Cynder turned around to find the group's two feisty fire drakes arguing over a fat rabbit carcass.

"Back off, I caught it!" Kazan was snarling, his lip curling to reveal ivory fangs.

Flame's tail lashed like an angry snake and he snapped his jaws threateningly. "_You_?! I killed it! You were the one getting in the way!"

"I saw it first!"

"I killed it first!"

"Prove it!"

"You prove it!"

Snarling, they lunged for the rabbit at the same time, jaws snapping down on opposite ends of the carcass. Glaring at each other, they pulled and tugged so fiercely that the rabbit looked like it was about to be torn asunder. Then, with a sickening sound of tearing flesh, it was. Kazan fell backwards with less than half the carcass dangling bloodily from his jaws, and spat it out angrily onto the grass.

"Jerk!" he yelled, launching himself at Flame, who spat the rest of the carcass from his jaws and braced himself for impact. The two fire dragons collided with snapping jaws and flailing claws, and rolled over each other in the dirt, snarling like wild animals.

"Hey!" yelled Cynder, jumping up. "That's enough!"

Flame kicked Kazan off his chest and rolled onto his belly, bearing fangs stained with rabbit blood. The darker crimson dragon hit the ground on his side and surged to his feet looking furious, his crest glowing with fire. A dark paw suddenly slammed into the ground in front of him, and Kazan staggered backwards in surprise to find Roku planted firmly between him and his opponent.

"That'll do," the black earth dragon said calmly, yet sternly. "Now isn't the time to be fighting amongst ourselves. It's just a piece of prey; you could stand to share it."

"Stay out of it," Kazan spat, giving Roku an ugly look of anger. "It's got nothing to do with you, so back off!"

The black dragon just stared him down, his eyes steely, "You're disrupting everyone; someone needs to step in and stop you before you make fools of yourselves. Getting angry isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Yeah, all it's going to get you is beaten, weakling!" Flame called tauntingly, his voice dripping with hatred. Kazan's eyebrow twitched violently, his lip starting to curl.

"Stop arguing and share the rabbit," Roku growled, turning a stern gaze from Kazan to Flame and back again. "It'll save us all some trouble."

Kazan's teeth ground together with an audible crunching sound and, without warning, he launched himself at the black dragon. A startled exclamation from Saffron rent the air half a second before Roku's body struck the earth with a muted thud. The earth dragon gasped as the air rushed from his lungs, but he didn't struggle.

"Shut up!" screamed Kazan, his forepaws pressing Roku heavily into the dirt, talons curling to pierce black scales. "Stop trying to tell us what to do! Believe it or not, not everyone wants to listen to everything you say! I'm freakin' _sick_ of you trying to boss us around like you're in charge! I've got news for you, asshole, you're _not_! We don't need someone treating us like hatchlings all the time like we can't take care of ourselves! We were doing just fine before _you_ came along, you stuck up son of a—!"

"Let him _up_!" Slight paws slammed into Kazan's shoulder and sent him staggering off Roku's prone form. "What is _wrong_ with you?!"

The crimson dragon looked up into Saffron's furious violet eyes, and a snarl crept across his face again. Flaring his wings, he gestured violently at the black dragon and continued his tirade. "Don't try to stick up for him like he's a _friend_! I know I'm not the only one who sick of his bullshit! We've known him for how long? A few weeks? He can hardly call us friends yet and already he's trying to boss us around like he _owns_ us! Well I've had it with him! Who does he think he is to act like he's in charge? _Who do you think you are_?!"

"Stop it! Who do you think _you_ are?" Saffron shrieked, shoving Kazan back a step and away from Roku. Her whole body was trembling with anger, but the black dragon was strangely still and quiet. As Saffron opened her mouth to berate the fire dragon, Roku rolled back to his feet.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and something about his calm voice made both Kazan and Saffron stop to look at him. The black dragon didn't meet their eyes. Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the dry forest and leaving the grass swaying in his wake.

"Roku…?" the yellow dragoness murmured, staring after him confusedly. Kazan snarled beside her.

"That's right, run away!" he yelled after the earth dragon. "It's about time someone said it to you straight! It's your own fault if you can't handle it!"

_Slap_.

Kazan reeled sideways with a gasp when Saffron's tailblade glanced painfully across his cheek, just barely avoiding his eye. He staggered slightly, eyes widening at the stinging pain across his face, and raised his head in time to come face to face with the furious dragoness.

"How dare you?" she yelled, pushing him back with only the ferocity in her screech. "Nothing gives you the right to say something like that to anyone! Roku has been nothing but a help to us, and you know what? He's a better friend than _you_! Maybe you should try looking at your reflection before you start mouthing off to someone else! You're an _asshole_! You're a _jerk_! You…you… You're a _horrible_ dragon!"

"That'll do," Cynder said suddenly, stepping between Saffron and the stunned fire dragon. Her voice was stern yet gentle, and she passed Kazan a brief glare that made him glower. Saffron snorted and stepped away, her tail still twitching.

"I can't believe the idiocy of some dragons," she spat, turning on her heel. "I'm going after him."

Without looking at Kazan, Saffron raised her head and marched away. But her keen eyes didn't miss the absence of Nadi among the others, who had watched the entire thing with stunned looks on their faces. She had a hunch she knew where he was. As she left, Saffron heard Cynder hiss something to Kazan, and hoped he was getting an earful. He deserved it.

* * *

Nadi slipped quietly through the trees, keeping an eye out for black scales amongst the shades of yellow and green that dominated the forest. The land undulated into shallow hills and prevented him from seeing further than a few meters ahead of his current position. Frustrated, he picked out the tallest hill he could see and reached the top with a few short bounds. He didn't have to look far.

Sitting with his back to Nadi on a shallow hill just ahead, staring forward and utterly still, was Roku. With hardly a moment's hesitation, the bronze dragon made his way down the hill and up the short slope to the earth dragon's side. Nadi didn't speak at first, merely sitting down beside his silent companion, who didn't seem to acknowledge his presence. He glanced sideways at Roku's face before following his line of sight towards the horizon. The slope of the hill led into a wide clearing below them, devoid of trees but dotted with small shrubs in sparse clusters.

Roku's voice broke the silence abruptly, strained and contemplative. "What is a friend?"

Nadi glanced sideways at him again, surprised by the odd question. He opened his mouth to respond, only to realise he didn't have an immediate answer. Frowning, he closed his mouth and stared ahead again, thinking. A minute or more passed by in silence before the wind dragon found a way to respond.

"Someone…you like to spend time with, I guess," he said uncertainly. The bronze dragon hesitated, feeling as though there was more to say, but unsure what it was.

"I see," Roku said quietly, his face impassive as he stared ahead. "And…why do you like spending time with them?"

"It…depends?" Nadi stared bemusedly at the black dragon, wondering where these strange questions were coming from. "All dragons are different…some get along better than others. Maybe because they're more similar… Although, they do say opposites attract. Friendship's kind of a mutual thing, I think. I haven't had much experience with it myself, you know. You have to want to spend time together; not because you need to, but because you want to."

"Then I don't think I have ever known friendship," Roku mused. His voice was almost impassive, but Nadi thought he caught a hint of sadness hidden somewhere within.

"What makes you say that?"

The black dragon shook his head and smiled wryly, but there was no humour behind his smile. "I grew up surrounded by dragons younger than me, many of whom never knew their parents and others who were too young to remember them. Maybe it was fate, or just bad luck, but there was no one else my age in Ethra. There were those a few years younger than me, but they were still very much hatchlings when the older dragons left, and I was forced to grow up far quicker than I should have. Master Selador couldn't care for all of the hatchlings alone, and they needed someone who would watch out for them. I promised my parents I would take care of my little brother when he hatched. Somehow, that promise came to encompass all of the young ones."

A wistful sigh escaped the black earth dragon and he raised his head to the sky, his eyes sad. "A life of caring for and protecting those younger and weaker than myself is all I have ever known. I have always been a leader, not because I wanted to be, but because I was needed. It's how it has always been; how _I _have always been. But now…"

"We aren't hatchlings," Nadi concluded solemnly, and Roku at last met his eyes.

"You are not," he agreed, "and I understand that. I know that they—all of you—don't need a caretaker or even a leader. You already have a leader, and even then you all take care of each other. You don't just rely on one dragon to protect you and care for you… And deep down I know that. But…if I am not a leader, what am I? If I am not needed, why am I here? And…how is one supposed to act around those who do not need your constant protection? I have never had companions my own age."

The bronze dragon shifted uncomfortably, as though the weight of confusing questions he did not know the answers to was becoming too much to bear. It took a moment for him to isolate one question that he thought he might have been able to answer.

"Just because the others don't need your constant protection doesn't mean you aren't needed," Nadi said, frowning at his talons. "I mean…friendship is about being there for each other, right? Helping each other and protecting each other, and being part of a group instead of doing things on your own."

"And someone has to keep the idiots in line," interrupted a new voice. Nadi turned around with a start, but relaxed when he saw who it was. Saffron was ascending the shallow slope of the hill to join them, and she appeared to have calmed down now that she was away from Kazan.

"I thought you'd be here," she said to Nadi as she sat down between him and Roku.

"Both of you came after me…" Roku murmured suddenly, and his two companions looked surprised. "Is that what friendship is?"

"Somewhat," Saffron said, shrugging. "It's a part of it, anyway. Like…caring for each other. And what Nadi said. You know, for a guy who says he hasn't had many friends, you sure have good ideas about friendship."

The wind dragon grinned almost sheepishly, "I was just sort of making it up as I went. It's a hard question."

Nodding slowly, the yellow dragoness turned her attention back to Roku, who was considering them both with an odd look on his face. It was as though he was trying to figure them out, but wasn't sure how to do that. Saffron smiled almost apologetically.

"You shouldn't worry about what Kazan said," she assured him. "We're all pretty on edge what with everything that's been going on, and Spyro's sudden decision to change course. Kazan gets pretty unbearable when he's edgy, trust me. I've known him for years, and I can't count how many times I've seen him blow up at someone for something stupid."

"But was he right?" Roku asked solemnly, frowning. "Is that truly how I am viewed in your eyes?"

Saffron hesitated. "Look…you do act like a leader, and sometimes that does come across as, well…patronising. Kazan hates feeling like someone's better than him, and I guess the way you act does make him feel that way. But that's because it's what you're used to, right? Caring for your little brother… It must be hard to get out of that rhythm if that's what you're used to."

"I'm afraid I don't know how to react around all of you," Roku admitted, smiling wryly. "You don't always need or want my help, and that throws me off. I'm so used to caring for hatchlings that I've…never learnt how to be a friend to someone who doesn't rely completely on me."

"You're never too old to learn, right?" Saffron grinned, nudging the black dragon companionably. "For the record, I think you're a pretty nice guy. And ignore what Kazan said—I think we'd be lost without you. In fact, we'd have been skeleton-ape fodder if you hadn't come along when you did. Being a natural leader isn't a bad thing, you know. Sometimes you just need to learn how to switch it off and act as part of a group."

"It's hard to do if you're used to doing things on your own," Nadi added. "Trust me, I know."

Roku glanced from one to the other, his expression thoughtful. It felt strange to him to have others trying to help him. For so long it had always been him helping others: dragons who had been too young to know how to give back. But this feeling was far from unwelcome. It felt like a fire had been lit in his chest, filling his body with warmth that bloomed from his heart. Perhaps this was what it felt like to appreciate others.

"I'll do my best," Roku smiled, dipping his head towards them. "And thank you."

"And stop being so formal!" Saffron exclaimed, her voice light with laughter. "I know it's how you were raised, but you need to loosen up!"

The black dragon looked surprised. "How would you suggest I do that?"

A wicked smile spread across Saffron's face, "Well, I can think of one way."

Nadi's eyes twinkled, "I think I know what she's thinking…"

* * *

The gardens were the first place Mari and Domino took their mismatched group to, but this turned out to be a less intelligent idea than they had expected. Though only Terra had witnessed the frantic struggle between panthers and dragons near the centre of the city, the remnants of that panicked battle still remained scattered around the gardens. There were dragons and moles everywhere, still cleaning up, though the bodies of those who had died had long since been removed, for which Terra was thankful. Dark stains on the cobblestones and battered pieces of armour and weaponry were all that remained of the deadly struggle now.

Mari's face fell slightly as she observed a pair of moles staggering past with armfuls of broken and blood-stained weaponry that had not been gathered the day before. "Maybe this isn't the best place to be…"

Domino made a face and nudged the cheetah's leg, "Come on, let's go into the gardens! There's no one there!"

Without waiting for an answer, he cantered eagerly towards the greenery. Terra felt her stomach churn as she watched the innocent hatchling pass by the dark stains of blood that had dried on the cobblestones with nary a glance. They were walking through a battlefield full of the remnants of panthers who had died in that battle. All that was left of them was dried on the streets of Warfang. Shuddering, Terra turned her face away, closed her eyes, and covered her mouth with a paw.

Soft pawsteps padded to her side. A brief silence followed, and then a quiet voice. "Are you alright?"

Terra jumped, and opened her eyes to see Zephira looking concernedly up at her. The white dragoness hardly came up to her chest. Her ivory scales looked almost too pure against the blood-stained cobblestones around them. For a moment, Terra was silent, staring misty-eyed at the dragoness. Then she answered with a solemn nod.

"It's nothing. We should follow them."

The pantheress looked ahead to see Mari and Domino were almost at the edge of the gardens, even though the latter had doubled back to guide Myst there as well. Terra started after them, keeping her eyes straight ahead, rather than on the ground. But she couldn't stop glancing down every few moments to ensure she didn't step on any stain. Zephira's pawsteps were so quiet and dainty that she couldn't hear her following, and the dragoness's voice made her jump again.

"I know you are mourning for them. The ones who died here. Your clan…"

Terra halted, but didn't turn around. Zephira stopped beside her, but the panther didn't trust herself to look at her. She felt the dragoness's eyes on her, and wondered what she was thinking—what she was feeling. Would she see pity if she were to meet her eyes? Or something else?

"We don't have to stay here," said Zephira when Terra didn't reply. The pantheress shifted nervously and finally looked at her with a subtle shake of her head.

"I'm fine, it's just… Walking freely through a place where so many died only yesterday…" Terra uttered a shaky sigh and rubbed her arms, as though a sudden cold wind had swept over her. "It's like walking on their graves."

"They fought bravely."

A wry smile tweaked Terra's mouth, "I know. If only it wasn't for the wrong cause. My people…are not bad. Just misguided. I don't want to see them die like this."

"Nobody ever wants to see those they care about die. But they will be remembered."

Without another word, Zephira continued on, her steps light upon the cobblestones as she weaved respectfully around the dark blood stains of her enemies. Terra considered her for a moment, unsure what her emotions were trying to tell her, before she followed.

As it was, Domino turned out to be right. The further they went into the gardens, the quieter the world seemed to become, and the further away the memory of the battle and its aftermath felt. Zephira found a quiet place beneath a tree with drooping branches covered with soft grey-green leaves that reminded her of a waterfall, and curled up there while Domino bounded around in the bushes. Myst was pulled unceremoniously along.

"Hey, look!" the black and white hatchling called only seconds after Zephira had sat down. "I found a tunnel!"

It was less of a tunnel than a dark opening through the wild bushes that surrounded the small clearing of grass, but Domino didn't seem deterred. Pulling Myst along with a wing over her back, he peered into the dark space between vegetation, tail twitching.

"I wanna see where it goes!" he called over his shoulder shortly before striding forward into the bushes. Myst stumbled after him, turning her head in an attempt to give Zephira a pleading look—something her scarred-over eyes failed to accomplish. The older dragoness seemed to understand, however, and made to push herself up.

"Oh, wait, I'll go!" Mari exclaimed suddenly, hurrying after the hatchlings. "I've always wanted to explore this place more!"

Then she ducked under the brambles and, with a rustle of leaves, was lost to view. Zephira sighed and sat back down again, trusting the cheetah to keep the hatchlings out of trouble. She was about to lay her head on her paws when she noticed Terra standing awkwardly at the edge of the clearing, rubbing her arm nervously and looking around at the surrounding bushes. Many of them sported wild flowers, spreading a dash of warm colour across the green backdrop.

The wind dragoness hesitated for a moment. "Did you want to go with them? I don't mind being alone."

Terra jumped again, and Zephira wondered just how on edge she really was. The pantheress smiled sheepishly. "No, I'll let Mari have her fun. I mean, I love her, but she can be very…excitable sometimes."

A smile tweaked Zephira's mouth, "She sounds just like a hatchling. I'm sure she and Domino will get along well."

Another moment of hesitation preceded the wind dragoness's next words. "Did you…want to join me?"

"You…you don't mind?" Terra bit her lip, her shoulders tensing slightly. Zephira shuffled aside slightly to make room for the pantheress underneath the weeping tree, shaking her head.

"Maybe it will give us a chance to get used to each other," she mumbled quietly, turning her head away shyly as the pantheress sat down beside her.

Nervously, Terra crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. She avoided looking at the white dragoness, instead tipping her head back to watch the weeping branches of the tree swaying in the gentle breeze only inches from the tip of her nose. It was a serene sort of place, so lush and green, just like she imagined Avalar to be. If only it didn't feel like there was a wall of ice between her and the dragoness beside her.

Terra fiddled with the hem of her tunic, shooting furtive glances at Zephira out of the corner of her eye. She didn't have the guts to speak for the next few minutes, but she couldn't resist looking at the dragoness. The many scars that warped her ivory scales, and the tattered remnants of the wing she kept held tight to her side, were all far too interesting for the pantheress to ignore. She wanted to enquire exactly how Zephira had received these injuries, but she couldn't bring herself to ask.

She remembered what Hunter had told her; how the panthers had set a trap, and Zephira and her brother had walked right into it. But what sort of trap? And who had been in charge? Terra shuddered to think that one of her brothers might have been responsible for the death of this innocent dragon's brother. It was far too likely, and that made her stomach churn sickeningly.

"Hideous, isn't it?"

Terra flinched. Startled, she tore her eyes away from Zephira's scars, realising with an icy feeling of guilt that she had been caught staring. The white dragoness wasn't looking at her, but moments later her head turned and lavender eyes met her gaze. They were sad and bitter, and Zephira felt her heart twinge guiltily.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she managed to stammer. Zephira snorted.

"Look at it," her mangled wing twitched slightly, and Terra couldn't help looking at it again. "Tell me it isn't ugly. The moles even suggested I have it removed, but I just…can't. It's useless, but I…"

Zephira lowered her head to the grass, "As long as it's still there, if I don't look at it, I… I can pretend I still have a wing. I can pretend…"

"Can…can you still fly?" Terra asked hesitantly, though something within told her she already knew the answer. Zephira twitched her ruined wing again.

"Of course not," she said bitterly, turning her face away. "I can hardly move it any more. I'm grounded."

Terra wished she hadn't asked. What was it like for a dragon no longer able to fly? It must have felt like a part of her life had been taken away from her. And she had already lost her brother…

Gazing upon the scarred white dragoness, Terra had a sudden urge to see her in flight—to watch her dainty, frail body slicing through the wind. She didn't look like a beast that belonged on the ground. The sky was her true home, and she had been torn from it and thrown to earth with no mercy. Terra's jaw tightened.

"Do you want to fly again?"

Zephira's head snapped towards her, and her eyes were so full of anguish that Terra almost shied away. Her voice was but a whisper, but it held such bitter emotion that the pantheress felt it in her own heart. "What do _you_ think?"

"I…think you belong in the sky," Terra murmured. "I think you belong with the wind."

The bitterness melted away and left Zephira's eyes full of only sadness. "The wind is my element. It has always been my home. Until now."

The pantheress bit her lip, "Is…is there anything you can do?"

"What?"

"Is there anything you can do?" Terra repeated, her voice stronger this time. "Anything that can help your wing?"

Zephira's jaw tightened and she looked away, her shoulders tense. "Why are you asking me this?"

Terra's expression had hardened with determination. Suddenly confident, for a reason she wasn't sure of, she reached out a paw and placed it upon Zephira's scarred shoulder. The wind dragoness looked sharply at her, but her expression wavered under Terra's determined stare. The pantheress drew herself up.

"Because I'm going to find a way to help you fly again."

* * *

For most of the panthers, the day after the battle at Warfang was one for nursing wounds and lamenting losses. Much distance was kept from the twins after their tussle the previous day, and they in turn hadn't spoken to anyone since their negotiations with the traitorous green dragon had ended. Some wondered what their leaders were planning—if they were even planning anything—but others already had enough on their minds. One such panther sat at the edge of the forest, his legs crossed beneath him and his back rested against the scratchy bark of a tree.

Orpheus's gaze was dark and contemplative as he rolled his sword-staff over and over in his paws, watching the way the morning light glinted off the green spirit gems embedded in the wood. So intent was he on his weapon, and the thoughts roiling in his head, that he didn't hear the panther beside him until he spoke.

"Did it do something to offend you?"

Orpheus winced and looked up sharply. Erebos was standing over him, leaning nonchalantly on the same tree, a half-amused look on his face—Orpheus couldn't quite read the rest of his expression, but he looked almost annoyed. Shaking away the shock of his brother's sudden appearance, he focused on the odd question instead.

"Did what?" Orpheus asked, his voice coming out as a bitter grunt.

"Your staff," Erebos gestured to the weapon in his lap. "You were glaring at it like it murdered your mother."

"She's your mother too," Orpheus grumbled, leaning back against the tree. "And I wasn't glaring at it, I was just thinking."

"So's pretty much everyone else," Erebos muttered, sinking into a crouch beside his brother. "You can pretty much _smell_ the defeatism. Makes you wonder what's gonna happen now."

Releasing a sigh full of pent-up emotion, Orpheus tipped his head back against the tree and glanced sideways at his older brother. A large scorch-mark marred the left side of Erebos's tunic, eating away the fibres and revealing the dark fur—and clean white bandage—beneath. The sleeve had also been torn away, and a smaller bandage had been secured around his upper arm. Just above his left eye, an angry red patch of skin glared through the dark fur on his forehead. But there was something missing—moments later, Orpheus realized what it was.

"Where's your sword?"

Erebos glowered into the distance. "Lost it."

"Lost…?" Orpheus stared at him. "What the heck happened? And where were you during the battle, anyway? I didn't see you."

"The masters got me to lead the Dreadwing charge," Erebos replied, looking bitter. "One of those damn moles catapulted a fireball at me… Almost knocked me off my Dreadwing. I managed to hang on… Can't say the same about my sword."

His paw strayed to the bandage around his ribs and he grimaced. Orpheus considered him almost pityingly.

"What are you going to do now, then? Have you still got your old sword?"

Erebos shrugged, "It's with the rest of the weapons we left here before the battle. But, you know… Everyone else has magic weapons, and I don't. Heck, I'm an _Elite Guard_! If anyone should have one, it's _me_!"

Orpheus resisted the urge to roll his eyes and looked back at his own weapon. His brother never changed. His voice was thick with barely concealed sarcasm when he responded, "Why don't you go 'convince' one of your _friends_ to give up theirs?"

His brother's eyes lit up almost instantly and he clapped Orpheus on the shoulder, grinning. "That's a brilliant idea! Knew you'd start thinking like an Elite eventually. Catch you later, little bro."

Then, with a jaunty wave, he stood up and wandered away, no doubt to find an unfortunate panther with a lesser rank to bully a weapon out of. Orpheus watched him go, wondering if Erebos had even noticed his sarcasm at all. Shaking his head, the olive-eyed panther returned his gaze to his sword-staff. With the distraction gone, his thoughts returned all too easily to the pattern they'd been in earlier. A deep scowl marred his face.

He couldn't shake the memory of that cheetah back at the Dragon City—and the terrified look on her face that had stayed his paw. Orpheus knew he should have killed her. Cheetahs were the enemy, and she had been at his mercy. It would have been an easy kill; one quick strike to end one tiny, insignificant life. So why hadn't he? Why had the sight of her frightened face filled him with such doubt that his very blood had frozen in his veins?

Assassins were ruthless. Assassins did not show mercy. But, this time, that was exactly what Orpheus had done.

The young panther groaned and buried his face in his hands, letting his sword-staff roll off his lap and land in the dirt in front of him. Did a small mistake like this make him a traitor? He couldn't deny the guilt that churned his stomach, and his nausea only worsened when he imagined what the other Elite Guard would think if they knew—or worse, if Master Skulk and Skelos knew. Orpheus suppressed a shudder at the very thought.

Why couldn't he have just killed her? All this guilt and worry would not have been his burden to bear. He could have moved on, and that cheetah would have faded into the back of his mind until she was nothing more than a number added to all those that had fallen to his blade in battle. He wouldn't have had to keep replaying that scene in his head—the terror in her eyes; the doubt that had frozen him in time.

It was not the first time he had doubted his ability as an Elite Guard, but never had that doubt felt stronger than it did now. If he couldn't even end the life of an insignificant cheetah, what hope did he have as an assassin?

"What do I do?" Orpheus moaned into his hands. "What the heck do I do?"

"Bad morning, Orpheus?"

The young panther winced and jumped for the second time that morning, his head shooting up in shock. Silt stood before him, toying with the hilt of his thin rapier, an unreadable expression on his face. Orpheus licked his lips nervously, wondering how long the older assassin had been there.

"Um…"

"Have you seen Rebus?" Silt asked, ignoring Orpheus's awkwardness. "The masters want a word with us. They're waiting by the big rock over there."

He jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating a large clump of rock just beyond the edge of the forest. Orpheus could already see the twins and the other three assassins there, and his stomach churned nervously. Then he remembered that Silt had asked him a question, and hurried to answer.

"He was here a moment ago, he went that way," Orpheus gestured vaguely over his shoulder and Silt nodded.

"You'd best go meet up with the others. Tell the masters Rebus and I will be there soon."

Orpheus nodded dumbly and watched Silt turn to walk away. But just as the older assassin strode away, a sudden thought slammed into Orpheus with the force of a battering ram and words tumbled from his lips before he had a chance to think them.

"Wait, Silt!"

The orange-eyed panther turned, eyebrow raised in question. Orpheus gulped on nothing for a moment, and then the words gushed out.

"I need you to help me. I need you to teach me how to be an Elite Guard. A _real_ Elite Guard."

Cold silence caused the hairs on the back of Orpheus's neck to stand on end, and he suddenly wished he could steal the words back again. But then a wry smile crossed Silt's wiry face and his eyes glinted.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Mari had never encountered a dragon hatchling before, and as she watched Domino pouncing on grasshoppers in the long grass, she wondered if they were all so excitable. It didn't quite fit with her image of tall, regal beasts, serious and dominating as dragons should have been, but something about it was endearing. She was distinctly reminded of cheetah cubs, and for a moment played with the thought that their two species were not as different as their physical attributes made apparent. Domino would have gotten along well with a cheetah cub.

But while he pranced around the gardens and amused himself with silly games, the smaller hatchling—the one with the scarred-over eyes—lingered placidly by Mari's side. The cheetah took that moment to consider the little scarred dragoness, and her first thought was that she seemed like a good match for Zephira—both were frail, white and scarred. If she hadn't known better, Mari might have mistaken them for sisters.

When Domino called Myst's name, Mari watched as the blind hatchling made her way unsurely over to him and marveled at how she seemed to know where she was going. She wondered what it would be like to be sightless, to never be able to see the sky, the grass, or even her friends ever again. The thought was disturbing, and a wave of pity for the scarred Myst washed over her. What must it have been like to live in darkness?

"Oh! Oh look, Domino, I caught one!" Myst cried suddenly, opening her paw to reveal a tiny green grasshopper perched on her pad. It shivered slightly, then seemed to realise its way to freedom was apparent, and leapt into the grass with one quick hop. Feeling the insect leave her paw, Myst giggled.

"How did you do that?" Domino whined after he pounced and missed a much larger grasshopper by inches. "They won't stay still!"

Myst just smiled and shook her head. It had been but a stroke of luck that had found the grasshopper in her paw. Mari watched them fondly as the two hatchlings scampered around the clearing after the insects. It seemed to her that Myst relied on the faint buzzing noises made by the grasshoppers' tiny wings to guide her to them, and couldn't help being impressed. Perhaps life without sight was not as dauntingly impossible as it seemed.

Minutes passed and Mari's concentration waned, until she found herself lying back on the grass, watching the clouds moving lazily overhead. She might have drifted to sleep in the gentle breeze then and there, had it not been for a faint exclamation from Domino.

"Hey! What is that?"

The cheetah blinked the sleepiness from her eyes and sat up. Domino had followed the grasshoppers into the shadow of a large bushy tree, and was currently sitting on his haunches, staring into the spiky tangle of vegetation. Myst stopped stalking grasshoppers and moved to his side, but her sightlessness meant she couldn't see what he had seen.

"What is it?" she asked instead. Domino reached a paw towards the bush, shifting the spiky foliage aside.

"It's a…something," he mumbled lamely. "It's all silvery and stuff."

Mari sat up straighter and, feeling wary, got to her feet. She was nearly to the hatchlings when Domino leaned forward, pulling more of the bush out of the way and causing sunlight to reach the object he had seen. It glinted blindingly in Mari's eyes, stunning her momentarily before she realised what it was.

"Get away from that!" the cheetah yelped, dashing forward and grabbing Domino around the middle. She dragged him backwards and fell back on her tail, wincing.

"What was that for?" The hatchling exclaimed indignantly, wriggling out of her grip. Rubbing her behind, Mari made a face and stood up.

Leaving Domino's question unanswered, she stepped forward and reached into the spiky claws of the bush. Her paw closed around something smooth and cylindrical, and she pulled it from the shrub with a gentle tug. Twigs and foliage fell away, and Mari found herself holding a long, thin sword. Its silvery sheen glinted almost menacingly in the sunlight.

"_Whoa_!" Domino breathed.

"It's a weapon," Mari mumbled, staring at the blade.

"What's a sword doing in the bush?" Domino exclaimed eagerly, sitting up on his hind legs to get a better look at it. Myst lingered unsurely, her sightless gaze directed somewhere to the left of the blade held in Mari's paw.

The cheetah shook her head. "I'm not sure. Maybe one of the panthers dropped it?"

She inspected the weapon carefully, admiring the simple yet beautiful design. The hilt was a smooth silvery colour, decorated with a finely-carved pattern and a row of three blue stones of different sizes. They seemed to glow, as though lit from within. The blade itself was nothing special—simple polished metal—though it looked sharp enough to cleave the trunk of a tree in two. Curious, Mari ran her thumb over the largest of the blue stones set in the hilt. It seemed to shimmer at her touch.

Domino opened his mouth, perhaps to ask what she was going to do with the sword, but he never got a chance to speak. A sudden, icy cold feeling swept up through Mari's arm and into her chest, like freezing water flowing through her veins. At the same time, frost shimmered and formed along the length of the blade, glowing with a blue sheen. Failing to bite back a shriek, Mari snatched her paw away and the sword fell to the ground.

The grass beneath the blade froze over instantly before the blue glow faded. Panting, Mari stepped away from the weapon and hugged her freezing paw to her chest. Domino gazed in awe at the frozen grass.

"What was _that_?!" he crowed. Myst, on the other hand, seemed more startled by Mari's shriek.

"What happened?" she asked the cheetah nervously. "Are you alright?"

"I…I'm fine," Mari stammered, still rubbing her paw. The tingling, freezing feeling was fading, leaving a cold numbness in its wake. Carefully, Mari knelt down and reached for the sword again.

It was deathly cold to the touch, but that rush of freezing power from before did not return, and the blade remained still and unassuming in her paw. Mari considered it distrustfully, her eyes lingering on the shimmering blue stones.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Domino asked, prodding the frozen patch of grass with a paw. The frost crackled and melted under his warm scales.

"I'll take it to Hunter," Mari replied after a moment of thought. She couldn't just leave it here, not where it was in reach of hatchlings—such a weapon was dangerous. Nor did she trust herself with it. She was not well-versed in the art of sword fighting, and there was no mistake that this was no ordinary sword. If anyone knew anything about swords, it was Hunter.

"He'll know what to do with it," Mari said aloud, more to reassure herself than the two hatchlings. She just hoped she was right about that.

* * *

Saffron paced backwards and forwards in front of the two male dragons. "There's one rule and one rule only to this sparring match: Don't kill each other. Actually, 'don't maim or severely injure each other' would be a good rule, too… Other than that, anything goes! Heck, you boys could even try to team up against me, if you wanted. Not that it's going to help you."

Her eyes twinkled tauntingly and she lowered herself into a battle stance. Across the clearing, Roku and Nadi did the same, exchanging a brief look as they did so. The black dragon nodded subtly, such a tiny movement that Saffron didn't notice.

"Ready?" she called, swishing her tail. Two simultaneous nods were her answer. Her claws pierced the earth.

"Go!"

In a flash of yellow light, Saffron shot from her place so quickly that, to onlookers, it would have looked as though she'd disappeared. Electricity crackling in her wake, she ghosted around behind Nadi and fired an orb of voltage from her jaws. It split in two in midair and homed in on either side of the bronze dragon, but he spun a tight circle and deflected both with a tongue of wind. One veered off into the trees and exploded, leaving a burn mark on a tree, and the other struck the dirt just beside Roku, tossing the black dragon to the side as it detonated.

He flipped himself over in midair, landing firmly on all four feet in a spray of dirt. The earth convulsed beneath his paws, and a rippling, jagged line of rock cut through the grass like a monstrous stone snake rising from the earth. It moved so quickly that Saffron didn't have time to dodge before it reached her, and a pillar of rock shot upwards, slamming into her flank. She was knocked roughly onto her side, wings splaying out across the dirt, but rolled back to her feet almost instantly.

Leaping over a condensed ball of wind that Nadi had fired at her, she swung her tail up over her head and brought it down on the wind dragon's back, tailblade sparking with voltage. It glanced across the bronze dragon's shoulders before he had a chance to duck out of the way, and he winced as he was almost forced to his belly. But then a dark shape leapt over his back and tackled the yellow dragoness to the ground.

Roku and Saffron struck the earth with a muted thud and rolled away from each other. The yellow dragoness spun a tight circle as she jumped to her feet, sending jagged tongues of voltage leaping out to entrap the black dragon. But the earth contorted under him and rushed upwards to encase him in an orb of stone, shielding him from the electric attack.

A sudden, concentrated blast of wind struck Saffron in the side, propelling her across the ground and to a stop against a large tree trunk. The yellow dragoness groaned and shakily picked herself up in time to see Roku lower his stone shield dome. Nadi moved to his side. Saffron's violet eyes narrowed.

"Shouldn't have given you guys the idea to team up," she muttered, shifting her weight from paw to paw as she sized them up. Voltage crackled between the forks of her tailblade.

"Think fast!" Saffron yelled suddenly, disappearing in a flash of yellow light again, leaving tongues of electricity dancing in her wake. Nadi and Roku spun around in alarm in time to be thrown off their feet by another explosive electric orb. Encased in voltage, the yellow dragoness charged in faster than a Comet Dash and struck Nadi in the chest, sending him flying across the clearing. She skidded to a halt, uprooting grass and clumps of dirt.

The bronze dragon bounced to a stop only inches from a nearby tree, and lay gasping for breath for a few moments, allowing his bruised body a moment to rest. He heard the crack of earth and electricity meeting in battle, and opened his eyes in time to see a bullet of stone explode on contact with one of Saffron's electric orbs. The earth rippled under the yellow dragoness and threw her off balance long enough for Roku to pin her down.

Nadi's eye narrowed and a grin crawled across his face. Jumping back to his feet, he aimed a ball of concentrated wind at the black dragon and fired. It struck Roku in the chest and exploded with the force of a small battering ram, throwing him off Saffron and onto his side a few metres away. The bronze dragon leapt the distance between himself and the electricity dragoness, using the wind to propel himself forward.

"Sorry, Roku!" he called. "Every dragon for himself!"

"A mistake on your part," was the black dragon's response, seconds before claws of stone erupted beneath the wind dragon.

Nadi uttered a yell of surprise as the stone fingers curled over his body and trapped him in place. He struggled to free himself from their unyielding grip, but the stone refused to shatter, no matter how he strained. Saffron was back on her feet now, and standing between her two opponents. Grinning, she lowered her head to the ground and began to glow. White-yellow light shimmered along the length of her body, and arcs of electricity began to leap from scale to scale. Nadi's eyes widened.

"Better get down!" he roared to Roku seconds before Saffron seemed to explode.

Voltage tore through the air around the yellow dragoness, leaping outwards like electric snakes, shattering Roku's stone prison and granting Nadi a rather painful freedom. He curled in on himself on the ground, wincing as Saffron's electricity arced agonisingly over his body. Then a loud _bang _rent the air, something cancelled out the voltage, and Saffron slammed into the ground only inches away.

Roku stood over them both, his jaws still glowing with green energy, seemingly unperturbed by the electricity that was still jumping over his dark scales. His green eyes flashed a warning, and clumps of stone tore themselves from the earth around him, floating in a rough circle. Roku's roar rent the air, and the bullets of stone hurled themselves towards the wind and electric dragons. Nadi leapt to his feet.

Wind whipped around him, spiraling into a cyclone almost faster than either of his opponents could blink. The bullets of stone struck this new shield, and those that didn't shatter on impact were pulled along for the ride, dragged in a semi-circle around the wind dragon before being hurled straight back at their conjurer. Roku smashed one with his tailblade, caught another in his mouth, and dodged the shards of the rest. His jaws snapped shut on the clump in his mouth, and he spat the shards of stone into the dirt.

Voltage sparking in her jaws, Saffron leapt skywards and angled her head down towards the male dragons. But she never got to fire her attack. A sudden, otherworldly shriek rent the air, and a huge dark shape swooped from the side, snatching the yellow dragoness out of the sky. The voltage dissipated as Saffron gasped in shock, feeling the breath leave her lungs as strong claws closed around her rib-cage. Then her captor soared sharply upwards, and her stomach lurched.

"Saffron!" Nadi roared when he saw the giant, winged beast snatch her in mid-flight. It had huge, leathery, bat-like wings, and a streamlined body covered with dirty, matted fur. It's flat ugly face was unfamiliar to him, but Roku seemed to know what it was.

"What's a Dreadwing doing here?" the black dragon growled after shooting a bullet of stone at the creature and missing.

"Let me go, you brute!" they heard Saffron screech, and saw her tearing helplessly at the Dreadwing's claws. Her struggles were in vain. Nadi gritted his teeth and spread his wings, preparing to fly after her.

"Nadi!" Roku yelled suddenly, and the bronze dragon snapped his gaze towards him. The black dragon slammed his paw into the earth, and a small pillar of stone erupted beside it. He looked meaningfully at the wind dragon. "I can get you up there faster!"

It took Nadi only a moment to understand what he meant. He responded with a sharp nod, tensing his muscles. "Got it!"

The bronze dragon broke into a run, leaping clear over Roku's back and landing lightly right in front of him, gathering his back legs under to spring upwards. As he did so, the earth rumbled and erupted beneath him, a massive pillar shooting skywards and firing him straight into the sky like an arrow from a bow. Nadi narrowed his eyes, gathering the wind around his form as he streaked towards the Dreadwing and his captive friend. Faster and faster he began to spin, wind constricting around him, forming something that could only be described as a living spear.

Nadi slammed straight into the Dreadwing without stopping, tearing through the place where its wing met its shoulder and continuing upwards. The creature's agonised shriek of pain rewarded him, followed only half-a-second later by Saffron's startled cry as she was released. The bronze dragon forced the wind to stop his ascent, and he spun around midair to see Saffron tumbling back towards the clearing. Head over tail she fell, struggling to open her wings and gain control before she struck the earth. Knowing he wouldn't reach her in time, Nadi did the next best thing he could think of.

One powerful beat of his wings sent two gusts of wind streaking back down towards the falling dragoness. They converged beneath her, inches above the ground, knitting together into a swirling bubble of visible air. Saffron struck the bubble with considerable force, and it held her for only a moment before it burst. The yellow dragoness tumbled lightly onto the grass as the Dreadwing slammed into the earth nearby with much greater force, shaking the entire clearing.

Fingers of stone erupted from the ground around the bat-like beast, trapping the wounded creature in place as it tried to struggle up again. Roku strode solemnly over to it, his steps heavy and ominous, like a predator approaching helpless prey. Nadi dove down to help.

"Are you alright?" he asked the instant he alighted beside Saffron. The yellow dragoness shaking got back to her feet.

"I'm fine," she snapped, brushing him aside with a furious look on her face. Nadi staggered backwards, surprised by her reaction, but she didn't give him another glance.

Angry purpose in her strides, Saffron stalked over to the struggling Dreadwing, nudging Roku aside. The black dragon eyed her with a frown, noticing the livid look in her eyes. She glared mercilessly at the struggling beast, still trapped by the earth dragon's prison of stone. Even if it had been free, it would not have been able to escape. Nadi's attack had almost torn one of its wings from its body, and the fetid scent of its blood now filled the clearing. Saffron wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"It won't survive a wound like that," Roku murmured beside her as Nadi moved over to join them. The Dreadwing shrieked in pain and defiance, but its struggles were slowly easing as its blood seeped into the earth.

"Guess we should put it out of its misery," Nadi murmured grimly. Saffron's tail twitched.

A quiet snarl was the only warning they got before Saffron's fury exploded. One after the other, she fired orb after orb of electricity straight at the helpless Dreadwing to explode on impact with its putrid fur. Nadi and Roku staggered backwards in shock as explosion after explosion rocked the clearing, obscuring the wounded creature in a cloud of dust and flashes of white-yellow electricity. The Dreadwing's shrieks grew in volume for the first few moments, and then faded away entirely, until the only sound was the detonation of electrical energy. Panting, Saffron stopped her attack and stood silent as the dust cleared.

The fried corpse of the Dreadwing was all that remained in the aftermath of Saffron's frenzy. Even Roku's stone prison had been obliterated. Blood no longer seeped from the bat-like creature's injury, now cauterised from the heat of the merciless attack. It lay still and limp as a sack, utterly void of life, its shrieks silenced forever. Roku and Nadi exchanged grim glances.

"Saffron…?" the wind dragon asked carefully, stepping closer to the silent yellow dragoness. She ground her teeth together and jerked away from him angrily, her tailblade almost slapping his muzzle as she stalked away. Nadi stared after her.

Saffron stood for a moment in the middle of the clearing, back turned on her friends and the dead Dreadwing, her body tense and trembling. Then, with a quiet hiss, she slammed her paw into the earth. Electricity spider-webbed from beneath her paw, creating strange patterns in the dirt, and the watching dragons jumped at her sudden display of anger. Frowning, Roku approached her.

"Saffron," he said quietly, "what's wrong?"

The electric dragoness turned towards him, and Roku was startled to see her eyes were misted with tears. Her body trembled as she spoke, and her voice was filled with both anger and disgust.

"You _always_ have to save me, don't you?" she spat. "Why…why can't I ever do things myself? Why do I always need to be saved? Why aren't I _stronger_?!"

Her paw made contact with the ground again; another violent blow that created another small crater in the dirt. Snorting, she turned her face away from Roku again and was silent but for the sound of her heavy breathing. Nadi strode to Roku's side.

"Saffron, that wasn't a matter of weakness," he said, "that was just bad luck. You just happened to be the one in the air at the time. Heck, otherwise it might have been you and Roku trying to save _me_. Just because you needed our help doesn't make you weak."

Saffron grunted unconvincedly and didn't turn to face him. But before either of the male dragons had a chance to say anything more, a worried voice hailed them.

"Are you alright?" Cynder cried, running down the hill towards them, Flame and Spyro at her back. "We heard yelling and explosions, and…"

"We're fine," Saffron said sharply, turning towards the new arrivals and quickly blinking her tears away.

Cynder caught sight of the dead Dreadwing across the clearing, skidding to a halt with a sudden intake of breath. "What _happened_?"

The black dragoness hurried over to inspect the felled beast while Roku explained to Flame and Spyro.

"We were sparring when it came out of nowhere and tried to take Saffron," the earth dragon said grimly. "It must have been hunting. Nadi and I managed to bring it down, and Saffron killed it."

"You certainly did a number on it," Cynder said, eying its torn wing with distaste. She stepped away from the dead beast and looked to the sky as though expecting to see more of them. But there were only clouds in the sky, and not a sign of another Dreadwing.

"But what's a Dreadwing doing _here_?" Spyro asked confusedly, staring across the clearing at the dead creature. He looked worried, to no one's surprise.

"Yeah," Flame scoffed, "I don't think I've ever even seen one before. Heard about 'em, sure, but seen one? I thought they went extinct during the war."

Spyro shook his head slowly, "I haven't seen one for years, either. Not since we were trapped in that crystal for three years. I…guess I didn't think much of it at the time, but now…"

"They're still around," Roku said grimly. "I've seen one before, years ago. They used to patrol the skies everywhere during the height of the war. I can only assume Malefor abandoned them when he formed his new army. But where have they been hiding, then?"

Cynder was staring at the Dreadwing's corpse with a strange look on her face. "I…may have an idea. But if that's the case, then…"

She sighed and turned away from the dead creature. "Dreadwings only ever hunt alone; otherwise they're sociable creatures, always nesting together. They won't travel far from home unless prey is scarce."

"I don't know about you, but I haven't seen any Dreadwing nests around," Flame muttered.

"So you're saying there could be more of them around?" Saffron asked edgily. Cynder bit her lip.

"I'm…not sure. It's strange to see one alone like this, unless it traveled a fair way from its nest to find prey. There's a chance we could be heading towards its territory."

"What territory?" Spyro asked carefully, eying Cynder closely, almost as though he knew what she was thinking. The black dragoness swallowed visibly.

"When I was known as…the Terror of the Skies," she said the title bitterly, "the Dreadwings were under my charge, even more so than the apes, who answered mostly to Gaul. I can think of only one place they would have gone once Malefor abandoned them—a place I used to rule over."

Cynder blinked and the dark look on her face faded, "But I can't be sure about that. It's more likely this is just a stray that got lost during a hunt. Hopefully there aren't any more around."

The others exchanged confused, worried glances, and it seemed Spyro was the only one who had understood what Cynder was saying. Nevertheless, he didn't push it, instead ushering his friends back towards camp, where the others would be waiting.

"We should get moving," the purple dragon said, giving Cynder and the Dreadwing a tense glance. "We don't want to waste any more time here, especially if there could be more of them about. Come on."

"Shame you killed it," Flame muttered to Saffron as they made their way back to camp. "I would have liked a bit of action myself."

The electric dragoness just smirked half-heartedly. She glanced at Nadi and Roku out of the corner of her eye, but neither was watching her. Her shoulders drooped slightly, but she said nothing and continued on in silence.

Behind them, Cynder spared one last, worried glance for the dead Dreadwing, hoping her theory was wrong. It had been some time since she had last seen her old roost, years in fact, and she was not sure she could remember the way if she wanted to. But all the same, the more she thought about it, the more this route they were taking seemed eerily familiar.

She could only hope she was wrong about their destination.

**A/N: Dun dun DUN. Er, that is... Hope you enjoyed the chapter~ I'm not sure when the next will be out, but we shall see. Again, thank you everyone for your words of encouragement. I may lose faith in this story from time to time, but I've been working on it for far too long to give it up now. Sometimes I just need to remember why I love writing it in the first place. :P**

**All that's left to say is Merry Christmas and I hope you all have a good one! Thanks for reading~!**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Hellooo, dearies. Here's chapter number 31, fresh out of the oven. I kept putting this one off, because it's a mostly feline chapter and I wasn't sure how to go about it... Somehow dragons are easier to write. xD Anyway, hope you enjoy it~**

**31.**

The sun was setting by the time the dragons made camp. The land was flat and barren around them, and there was little shelter to be spoken of. Had the storm hit two days later than it had, they may have found themselves trapped out in the open. Thankfully, however, the night was still and peaceful, if a little cold. Eventually, Cynder relented and allowed Flame to light a small campfire, deciding she'd rather attract enemies than freeze to death. She could fight enemies off, but not the chilly wind.

While the majority of the gang lounged around the campfire, Kazan edged further away and found his own space on a small patch of scratchy grass. He didn't need the campfire to keep him warm; he had his own flames to do that. His crest glowed dimly in the waning light of sunset, shedding heat over his scales and soothing his tired wings.

Kazan sighed and stretched out on his belly, wincing as the bruises he'd received in his short scuffle with Flame came into contact with the ground. There was a small cut on his cheek, thin as a paper cut, where Saffron's tailblade had nicked him. It still stung, but not as badly as his damaged pride. Scowling, the fire dragon turned his face to the cool wind and let it sooth his scales.

Though he hated to admit it, Saffron's words had hurt worse than the slap she'd administered to his face. He felt he should have forgotten them by now, but they cycled in his head endlessly, trapped in a whirlpool of bitter thoughts. Horrible… Did she really think he was a horrible dragon?

Sighing, Kazan glanced back towards the rest of the group, who had broken often into smaller clusters as night approached. Behind Flame and Ember, who had curled up together, he could see Saffron standing edgily beside the newest member of their group. Judging from the way she stood, and the way she kept shifting her forepaws, Kazan figured that the electric dragoness was nervous about something. He scowled at Nadi's more relaxed form, wishing their places were switched. The wind dragon should have been out here, sitting alone, not chatting up Saffron.

A bitter snort left Kazan's nostrils and he turned his face away from the offending sight. He was about to close his eyes when the sound of paw steps reached his ears. Kazan raised his head sharply, crest glowing brighter.

"Hey," Zannak drawled, halting in front of the surprised fire dragon. Kazan stared.

"What?" he asked almost irritably, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

The gold dragon shrugged, "Thought you could use company. Everyone else is occupied."

Zannak grimaced and, looking closer, Kazan realised how tired and disgruntled he looked. It was unlike the electric dragon to be so solemn, but he supposed they didn't have much to be happy about right now. Feeling almost guilty for snapping, Kazan shifted slightly to the side and jerked his head, gesturing for Zannak to join him. The gold dragon did so without another word.

For a moment, both dragons sat in terse silence, side by side in the cold night where the only light and warmth nearby was Kazan's glowing crest. The fire dragon shot his companion a furtive look out of the corner of his eye, but Zannak wasn't looking at him. Rather, he was gazing misty-eyed into the distance, and Kazan had a strange feeling that he was looking at things not on this plain of existence. He was tempted to break the silence, but had nothing to break it with.

"I really am hopeless."

Kazan glanced sharply at his friend, surprised by the sudden words. Zannak was staring at the sky now, an odd look on his face somewhere between a smile and a frown. Kazan didn't know how to respond, so he said nothing. Moments later, Zannak spoke again.

"I promised Ciro I'd never stop smiling, and now look at me…"

Kazan looked away, his mood dampening further at the mention of their late friend. The memory of Ciro still made him lapse into brooding silence, and he was reminded that it had only been a few weeks since the ice dragon's death. Yet, somehow, it seemed like so long ago.

"When did you make that promise?" Kazan grunted, a small part of him feeling strangely bitter at the thought of a promise between his two best friends that he had known nothing about.

"Not long ago," Zannak murmured, the green moon glistening in his teal eyes. His gaze flickered sideways to Kazan. "I'd tell you the rest, but…you wouldn't believe me."

The fire dragon sighed. He didn't have the will to press the matter; not now. It felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest, formed of bitterness, jealousy, sadness and frustration. He almost couldn't remember the last time he'd felt a lighter emotion than the ones that plagued him now. No matter what—or who—he thought of, he found only negatives in his mind.

The duo lapsed into silence again, and Kazan spent the next few minutes watching the others drifting to sleep around Flame's campfire. Roku had joined Nadi and Saffron now, and the three of them were sitting down together like old friends. He thought he heard Saffron's quiet laughter on the breeze and, though he loved the sound, hoped he had imagined it. Her laughter wasn't for him.

"Do you…ever get the feeling we're not needed here?" the crimson dragon asked at length. He sensed Zannak turn his gaze on him and waited for an answer.

"You too, huh?"

Kazan smirked wryly, shooting Zannak a glance. "So we're in the same boat?"

"Seems that way," the electric dragon groaned, stretching out on his back with a yawn. He gazed at the stars for a moment, pawing lazily at his black chest scales. "Sometimes I get the feeling I would have been more help back at Warfang. Y'know… Doesn't feel like we're getting anywhere. We just keep going and going, and where do we stop? We're chasing dreams while everyone else is fighting to defend the city."

"Why don't you go back?" Kazan asked hesitantly, shuffling around until he was on his back too. An endless night sky full of countless stars met his gaze, extending upwards into dark oblivion. He heard Zannak snort softly.

"I can't. I'm not going to leave my sister out here alone, and she'd never desert Spyro. …Wish I had her confidence."

Kazan grunted and scowled at the thought of the electric dragoness. He glared into the star-flecked sky, thinking bitter thoughts, but was quickly dragged back to earth when he realised Zannak was still speaking.

"But she's still so naïve. She trusts people way too easily. Heck, you've seen how close she's getting to the new guy. We don't even know him yet! …I don't like it. That's why I need to be here. To protect her if things go wrong. To make sure she doesn't make stupid choices…"

"I guess you're not all that fond of the new guy, then," Kazan muttered, seizing the conversation thread before it faded. His bitter thoughts towards the wind dragon festered quietly in his head, and he knew he had to get them out. That someone else might feel the same was a relief, in a way.

"Tch-yeah," Zannak scoffed and laughed humourlessly. "You tell me it's not suspicious when a guy drops out of the sky out of nowhere and wants to tag along with us. And look at him over there, cozying up to my sister. Who said he had any right to even get close to her?"

Kazan cast the others another swift glance, but the sight of Saffron curled up between Roku and Nadi did little to help his mood. "I don't like it either. Not to mention the other jerk, Roku. Thinks he's got the right to boss us around… What's Saffron want with those two, anyway? She was our friend first. Well…she's your sister, but…"

"Yeah, I didn't count on another guy muscling in between you and Saff."

"_What_?"

Zannak grinned and turned his head to meet Kazan's eyes, "What? Did you think I didn't know? Bro, Ciro and I have been rooting for you two for years! We even had a bet for how long we thought it'd be until you hooked up. Man…seems like a long time ago."

Kazan stared, mouth half-agape and his cheeks burning. "Bu…but…she's your sister! And you're…okay with this? Why didn't you ever say anything?!"

"It was more fun that way," Zannak smirked. Then the smile dropped from his face and a solemn look entered his eyes, to Kazan's discomfort. "You know…I still think you two are a pretty good match. I'd rather she end up with you than some random stranger who dropped out of nowhere."

The fire dragon scowled and returned his gaze to the sky, staring deep into the endless expanse of space, as though he wanted to lose himself amongst the stars. Frustration faded into brooding sadness and resignation the longer he stared. His crest, flattened against the ground, was no longer glowing, and the pair lay in darkness with only the moons to give them light.

"Doesn't seem likely to happen now, though," Kazan mumbled to the stars. "You've seen how she looks at him. She's never looked at me like that before."

"So what?" Zannak grumbled. "It's just a stupid crush. She hardly knows the guy. Sooner or later she's gonna realise you're a better match. You've known each other since you were hatchlings, and you haven't tried to kill each other as much lately. That's got to count for something, right?"

Kazan uttered a humourless laugh that sounded more like a scoff, but didn't see fit to answer. As the silence encroached again, the two lay back and watched the stars twinkling shyly in the presence of the twin moons. The crimson dragon couldn't help but dwell on how strange yet familiar it felt to be in Zannak's company for so long. When was the last time they'd talked like this? Though he strained his memory, he found he couldn't remember. All he found was disturbing emptiness.

"Hey…Zannak?"

"Mm?"

"…What do you think Ciro would think if he could see us?"

The gold dragon was silent for some time, and Kazan glanced across to see him staring wistfully at the green moon.

"He'd probably wonder why I hadn't managed to hook you and Saff up yet."

Kazan smirked half-heartedly. "I'm sure."

He heard Zannak shift in the grass, and then his voice reached quietly through the silence. "It's been a long time since we talked like this, huh?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," Kazan admitted, glancing sideways to find Zannak had rolled onto his side and was now looking at him. He found he couldn't read the look in the electric dragon's eyes, but he wondered if his confusion and disappointment was visible in his own. It took him a moment to find the courage to ask the next question. "…Why is that?"

Zannak didn't reply, and Kazan had the feeling he was staring straight through him. Bravely, he forged onwards.

"We were…best friends. The three of us. We used to spend every waking minute together. We were inseparable. When…when did that change? Lately I feel so distant from you. Even before Ciro…passed. It's like we came to a crossroads and you two took a different path, and I went along on my own. I can hardly remember how it used to be anymore."

"Things change…" Zannak murmured, and Kazan wondered if he was imagining the sadness in the gold dragon's eyes. But was it sadness for him, or sadness for the loss of Ciro? He couldn't be sure.

"People change, circumstances change," Zannak continued, voice shaking slightly. "Wants and dreams change… You were always different than us, somehow. Always braver, stronger, more serious, less…dumb, I guess."

The electric dragon laughed softly, but there was more sadness in that laugh than anything.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later. You'd grow up and not need us anymore. You'd get sick of our constant playing around. But you were always our friend, Kazan. Still are. We're just…too different."

There was a pained look in Kazan's eyes, and it came through in his voice when he spoke. "Do you think we could ever be as close as we used to be before things started to change? Or were we just…not meant to be friends?"

"Not meant to…?" Zannak rolled onto his belly and raised his head, staring incredulously down at the fire dragon. "Dude, if we weren't meant to be friends we wouldn't have spend the majority of our lives together! Of course we were meant to be friends! We've just…hit a few bumps along the way."

The gold dragon's wings drooped slightly and he looked away from Kazan again, an almost guilty look on his face. "It…it was our fault, really. Ciro and I were so similar, we just couldn't help growing closer, and we left you out in the dark. We were like brothers, and you should have been too… But we were so caught up in ourselves I don't think we ever noticed that we were leaving you on the sidelines."

Kazan's jaw loosened and tightened inconspicuously as he mulled over Zannak's words, a frown on his face. He could remember a time, years ago, when all he'd ever wanted and needed was to laugh with his two best friends—when their jokes still amused him and not every action seemed pointlessly foolish. But that feeling had drifted away in recent years, scattered like ash left behind when the fire had died. When had their jokes started to frustrate him? When was the first time he remembered watching them laugh and felt like he was standing out in the cold?

"I don't think it's your fault."

Zannak glanced at him in surprise, but Kazan wasn't looking at him.

"I mean, I didn't exactly try hard, either." The fire dragon snorted bitterly. "I just got frustrated so easily, I didn't even try to join in. I was the one who changed, not you two. I…didn't even try to keep our friendship strong. I just let it fade. And now I… Well, I didn't even cry when one of my best friends died. What…what sort of a friend am I?"

Kazan choked, a sudden tightness constricting his throat. His face felt unbearably hot, and his eyes themselves felt like they were on fire, though it was a cool wind that blew. He hardly registered the warm trickles that found their way out of the corner of his eyes and trailed down his scales to his horns. The stars suddenly looked so blurred.

"I-It must be so much worse for you," he choked out, throat bobbing shakily as he tried to keep his voice steady. "Y-you two were like brothers, and now he's gone. And I d-didn't even cry…"

"You are now, aren't you?"

Kazan inhaled sharply and raised one paw to his face, rubbing it over his burning eyes. He felt wetness against his scales, and his stomach churned with equal parts relief and shame. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but he would have preferred had it not been in front of Zannak. Choking back the sob that threatened to break from his throat, he croaked out two words.

"I-I'm not."

A shudder passed over his body and a fresh wave of tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. He kept his paw pressed firmly against them, though it did no good.

"I'm _not_."

"Yeah, I know. Only someone who really cared about Ciro would cry for him."

Kazan uttered a watery snort and rolled onto his side so that he was facing away from Zannak. Quelling the trembles of his shoulders, he angrily rubbed the tears from his eyes and lay still for several moments, staring at the scratchy blades of grass beside his head, just visible in the moonlight. It was a moment before either dragon found the words to speak again.

"I think Ciro would have wanted us to reconcile."

Kazan swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke without turning back to his companion. "You think so?"

"We were best friends once." Kazan could almost hear the bittersweet smile in Zannak's voice. "Maybe we can be again."

A paw punched his shoulder lightly, and Kazan craned his head back to find Zannak grinning at him.

"I'm gonna need _someone_ to watch my back. Even if we're not really needed here, even if Spyro doesn't need our help, maybe at least we can protect Saff. What do you think?"

Kazan rolled hesitantly onto his back again. "Yeah… And maybe we'll prove them wrong. Maybe we'll prove they _do_ need us. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let Saffron go. I've fought this long for her, there's no way I'm giving up now—new guy or no new guy."

"Then it's a deal." Zannak extended his paw and Kazan eyed him curiously for a few moments. "Whatever happens, we stick together."

A smile crawled across the fire dragon's lips and he slapped the pad of his paw against Zannak's, a muted sound that nonetheless rang out in the silence of night. He nodded firmly, blazing golden eyes meeting the twinkling teal orbs of his old friend. Zannak's grin was almost as bright as the stars.

"Good to have you back, Kaz."

* * *

Hunter turned the sword over in his paw, eyeing the shimmering blue gems in the hilt with something akin to suspicion. The instant Mari had brought it to him he had known there was something strange about it. Wanting a secluded place to examine the weapon, he and the other felines had returned to the room he shared with Cougar. Zephira had not accompanied them, instead opting to return to Selador's house, though not without much whining from Domino.

Currently, Cougar was sprawled on a pair of cushions on the floor, another propped up against the wall behind his back. Terra and Mari sat either side of him, watching Hunter anxiously as he examined the sword. Mari almost winced when he ran a thumb over the largest gem in the hilt, just as she had done when she had found it, but Hunter did not have the same reaction. He remained stoic as the gems glowed under his touch and a thin film of frost built upon the blade, as though he couldn't feel the icy thrill of power that Mari had experienced. A deep frown marred his face.

"You say you found this in the gardens?" Hunter asked, his gaze flicking towards Mari. She nodded nervously.

"What's the deal?" Cougar asked lazily, slinging an arm over the cushion behind his back. "It's just a sword. One of the panthers probably dropped it during the battle."

"This is no ordinary sword," Hunter corrected, hefting the blade cautiously and watching the way frost crystals formed along its length. "It's a good thing you brought it to me, Mari, though I'm afraid I have little knowledge of elemental weaponry. I believe the guardians will want to see this."

"What are you going to do with it?" Mari asked nervously.

"That, I have yet to decide." A vaguely roguish grin cracked the stoic mask on Hunter's face. "But if this is the sort of weaponry the panthers are using, I wouldn't deny the chance to match them on even grounds."

Before Mari had a chance to figure out what he meant by that, Hunter was already ushering them out of the room to find the Guardians. Only Cougar moaned about having to get up again. Terra remained largely silent, and Mari had the impression that there was something weighing on her mind. She resolved to ask later.

It was some time before they managed to speak with the guardians. Upon reaching their quarters to find they weren't there, Hunter asked the nearest dragon to find and alert them. Half an hour of waiting later, Cougar grew impatient and decided to look for the guardians himself. He searched two streets before deciding he couldn't be bothered, and made his way back to the guardians' quarters. By the time he got back, Selador was already there.

"Terrador and the other guardians are on their way," the navy dragoness assured the cats, pushing the door to their quarters open. Though Hunter had found the door locked, a quick pulse of earth energy from Selador's paw was all it took to open it. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"No need to apologise," Hunter replied. "We did show up without notice. It cannot be helped that the guardians are busy."

"It must be something important for you to show up unannounced," Selador glanced back at the cheetah curiously and stepped aside to allow them into the entrance hall.

"I believe it might be," was all Hunter said as he stepped inside. The others followed him in, and although Selador questioned, Hunter insisted on waiting for the guardians before he explained what had brought him here.

Thankfully, the wait was a short one.

"My apologies, Hunter," Terrador said as he stepped through the doorway, Volteer on his heels. "We kept you waiting."

Hunter waved the apology off as he had Selador's, and waited until all four of the guardians were standing around him. Then, in grim silence, he drew the sword from his sheath—having replaced his own sword, which remained back in his room. The dragons stiffened at this movement, and Terrador frowned briefly. But then Hunter laid the blade flat on his paws and held it out for the guardians to see.

"This was discovered in the gardens earlier today," the cheetah captain explained. "We believe it belonged to a panther who must have dropped it in battle."

"Curious," said Terrador, squinting at the blade, "but why have you brought it to us? I believed weaponry was your expertise, Hunter?"

"Normal weaponry, perhaps, but this blade carries elemental powers. No creature knows more about elemental magic than dragons, do they not?"

Cyril was the one to step forward, swinging his tail around and curling it around the hilt of the sword, taking it from Hunter's paws. He lifted the blade to eyelevel, eyes twinkling appreciatively at the shimmering lustre.

"He is right, Terrador," said the Ice Guardian. "There is ice magic imbued in this blade."

Terrador glanced from the blade to Hunter and asked slowly, "What would you have us do?"

The cheetah folded his arms thoughtfully, eyes on the blade in Cyril's grasp. "I want to know how it works. If this is the sort of weaponry that the panthers are using, such knowledge could prove useful."

Cyril nodded without taking his eyes off the sword, shifting his tail so that he could see the blue gems imbedded in the hilt. The other guardians crowed around him, and Volteer leaned in so close his snout was almost touching the blade. The blue gems were reflected in his wide eyes.

"Extraordinary! It would appear those gems act as a sort of power supply, channelling elemental magic into the blade and thereby giving the user full control over the element! Curious that these spirit gems are only connected to one element; more commonly they are catalysts for all elemental energy. I would hazard a guess these gems have been tampered with; a spell, perhaps, altering magic not used by we dragons…"

"Volteer, _please_," Cyril sniffed, pulling the sword away from the Electric Guardian. "If this sword were to be imbued with electricity, by all means I would let you prattle on, but it is _not_. Let a master of ice make judgement of _this_ weapon."

Volteer looked mildly affronted, but Terrador cut in before he could utter a long-winded retort.

"What do you make of it, Cyril?"

"This blade was clearly forged by apes," the Ice Guardian said, passing Volteer a warning glance when he opened his mouth to interrupt. "Though little is known about Malefor's endeavour to teach his army to harvest spirit gems, there has been much speculation. The common belief is that Malefor taught the apes to recognise the different strains of magic that exist within a spirit gem, and so to separate them into single elements. It must have been a delicate procedure, prying apart the very essence of a spirit gem and leaving each separate strain in tact."

"However, once achieved, these altered spirit gems would have been extremely pure in energy, allowing even one who is not connected to the elements to control them." Cyril paused and examined the blade again, before suddenly passing it to Volteer. The Electric Guardian looked surprised, but he accepted the blade in the grip of his tail regardless.

"I believe, as long as there is something to channel the energy—in this case, the sword—any creature should be able to utilize the magic held in these altered spirit gems."

Cyril looked meaningfully at his yellow counterpart, and Volteer hefted the sword in his tail, giving it a short swing. Air shimmered around the blade, and frost crystals formed along its length, falling to scatter upon the rug they stood upon. Volteer almost dropped the sword in surprise, the end of his tail suddenly feeling cold and numb. Cyril nodded.

"As I thought. Even one connected to a different element can still control it." He plucked the sword from Volteer's grip again and passed it back to Hunter. The cheetah accepted it gratefully.

"It will take much practice before you could call yourself adept at using an elemental weapon," Cyril warned, "something I don't think these panthers quite understand yet. Had we not been caught unaware by their sudden ability to use the elements, our forces could have easily overpowered their raw, untamed use of dragon magic."

"But it still gives them greater power over _us_," Hunter interrupted. "Even if they don't know how to use it skilfully, the raw power of elemental magic is enough to give them an advantage. But…"

"What if we had those sorts of weapons too?" Cougar cut in eagerly, his eyes shining as he suddenly caught on to Hunter's intention. "Brilliant!"

"One sword is not nearly enough," Terrador interrupted, frowning, "even if you do become skilled with its handling."

"I am aware. And that is why I wanted to bring this up with you, because I want to ask…" Hunter hesitated briefly, then raised his gaze from the sword to meet Terrador's harsh green eyes. "Can you create more?"

In the hour that followed, while Hunter and Cougar discussed with the Guardians the finer points of crafting elemental weaponry, Terra took it upon herself to make the first step in a plan she had started concocting in the gardens earlier that day. Selador seemed far less interested in the talk of weapons than the Guardians, and it was her that Terra approached. The navy dragoness smiled warmly.

"Not keen on weapon-talk either, Terra?" she asked, eyes twinkling with mild amusement. Terra smiled and shook her head.

"I'd prefer if there never was a need for it," she said. "But I wanted to ask you something. Maybe you can help…"

"Ask away, then."

Terra hesitated, but only for a moment. "How many wind dragons are in the city?"

It was an odd question for a panther to ask. Selador sat up from her position on her belly, expression curious. Though her eyes raked Terra's face shrewdly, she found nothing to be suspicious of. "Wind dragons are a rare species, I'm afraid. They have been ever since they were driven into hiding during Malefor's first reign of terror. Many of the hatchlings from Ethra will grow to be fine wind dragons, and I believe you are already acquainted with Zephira and her little friend Myst. Unfortunately, they are the only wind dragons I know of."

Terra's face fell. "Is that all? Only children? Are there no adult wind dragons?"

Selador sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm not sure why you ask this, but all I can tell you is that most wind dragons disappeared centuries ago, and those who did not were slaughtered in the war. The innocent children who escaped the horrors of war in hiding are all that remain."

Her eyes blinked open again and she glanced back at Terra. "Although, there is one… Mother Seak, the old blind dragoness from the council was once a wind dragon. I suppose she still is, though the power of her element has long since deserted her. She may be the only adult wind dragon in this city—or even on the mainland itself. If there is something you need, perhaps she can provide you with answers."

Terra nodded mutely, her brow furrowed in thought. She recalled the old white dragoness from the times she had seen her as part of the council at the Atrium, but it had never crossed her mind that she was a wind dragon. A silent minute passed, and then she spoke. "Where can I find Mother Seak? I would like to speak with her."

"Most days she can be found at the Academy, usually around the flight grounds. She is old now, and there is little her aging body allows her to do, except to pass wisdom on to hatchlings learning to fly." Selador smiled fondly, but the twinkle in her eyes faded almost as quickly as it had appeared and her expression become sober once more. "I will not inquire why you ask such questions; that is your business. But if I am right, and it is related to a certain dragoness in my care, I must warn you to tread carefully. Not all her scars are physical, and some may be easier opened than others."

Terra smiled weakly and nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. At that moment, Mari grew tired of listening to the talk of swords and spirit gems, and sidled over to see what her panther friend was doing. She linked her arm around Terra's and leaned idly against her, looking bored.

"I think they're going to be a while," she informed the panther with a hint of a whine. Terra smiled sideways at her.

"Maybe we should leave them to it," she suggested, tugging on Mari's arm gently. "There's someone I want to go speak with. Come with me?"

"Ooh, yes. It's getting stuffy in here." So saying, Mari turned on her heel and headed for the door, paw clamped tight on Terra's. She turned and waved to the dragons, though only Selador noticed. "Thanks for your help!"

"Take care, girls," Selador said as the door swung shut behind them.

The walk to the Academy was a long one, but it gave Terra time to explain things to Mari—her plan included. As expected of the cheetah, she was entirely supportive of the idea, and even expressed disappointed at having not thought of it herself. Yet again Terra found herself grateful to be blessed with a friend like her. Nearly a quarter of an hour—and many friendly waves to passers-by—later, the felines found themselves standing at the foot of the towering Academy.

"This is the tallest building in the city, isn't it?" Mari said, shielding her eyes with a paw as she craned her head back to see the top of the building. Like a giant stone tree it reached towards the clouds, numerous balconies wrapped around its girth at regular intervals.

"Hunter said something like that once," Terra mused, but her attention was not on the Academy. Instead she pulled Mari away from the building and towards the sprawling expanse of flat grass just to the east of the Academy. They'd been to the flight grounds before, but the ordered field was still awe-inspiring to Terra. So much green…

As Selador had said they would, they found Mother Seak near the northern edge of the field, watching over a small group of hatchlings—though Terra wondered how she 'watched' with blind eyes. The hatchlings were bounding over the ground and flitting around in the air like dragonflies, their tiny wings only able to hold them aloft for a few minutes at a time. When Terra and Mari approached, Seak instantly turned her head towards them.

The felines froze.

A wrinkled smile adorned the withered face of the old dragoness. "Come closer, friends. Be welcome."

Terra gulped back her nervousness and approached, wondering how to address a blind dragon. Clearly she wouldn't be able to see who it was—and how had she noticed their approach in the first place? "Um, I'm…"

"Terra," Seak wheezed, the smile never leaving her face. Her sightless eyes seemed to follow the pantheress somehow, though perhaps she was imagining it. "The young pantheress. I recognise the sound of your walk—and your voice, of course. And your cheetah friend…"

Her sightless face shifted towards Mari, and her smile turned apologetic. "Though, I am afraid I cannot recall your name."

"Mari," she replied brightly, seemingly unperturbed by the old dragon's milky white gaze. "And you're Mother Seak, right?"

A wheezy chuckle. "So the young ones call me. Though, I suppose, you are all young ones to me. Is there something I can help you with, my children?"

Terra found herself distracted by the old dragoness's appearance. She had never really taken a good look at her during the times she had stood before the council, but now that she did she couldn't look away. Seak stood almost as tall as the Guardians, though her figure was drastically stooped with age. Her scales, which once must have glowed with a dazzling, pearly lustre, were now dull and leathery, lacking a shine. Age showed through in other ways too—like the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, and the faded, thinning membranes of her wings, which might once have been a silvery colour. It was always the milky, sightless orbs that drew Terra's gaze back, though. Such clouded, useless things could hardly be called eyes.

Mari nudged her ribs sharply and Terra came to with a quiet gasp. Blushing, she realised she had been asked a question and hurried to answer. "I…we… Um, what I mean is…"

"Speak clearly," Seak said, not unkindly. "I'm afraid my hearing is not what it once was."

Terra coughed nervously and tried again. "You're the only experienced wind dragon in this city, and I know wind is the element most closely related to flight. I was wondering if there was a way you could help a dragon who has lost the ability to fly. If you could help them fly again…?"

A brief look of sadness passed over old Seak's face. "I know the child of which you speak. The one who bears scars caused by your people. A dragoness I myself watched over in her hatchling years."

"You…you know Zephira, then?"

The old dragoness nodded, her sightless gaze turning towards the playing hatchlings. "She was one of few children in the caverns born with that rare and beautiful element—my own element. When her mother died she was taken in by another, but she never strayed far from my sight—no, I do not share what you call 'sight', but I have my own. She has drifted from me in this past year, and these last weeks have been cruel to her. Poor child."

Mari and Terra exchanged sad glances, and the former spoke up. "Is there anything you can do for her?"

Mother Seak turned her wizened face back to them. "There may be many things I can do to help that child, but 'anything' is not what you came to ask of me—you came to ask for something specific."

Terra's eyes hardened. "Can you help her fly again?"

Seak closed her sightless eyes for a moment, as though the thought of the flightless Zephira pained her. "A dragon without healthy wings is a grounded dragon. That much is fact."

Terra's shoulders drooped in defeat.

"But I have not lived this long without defying what others have deemed 'fact' during my time." Mother Seak's eyes opened again, and were they not clouded they might have been blazing with conviction. "Be it my final act or not, I will see that young dragoness touch the skies once more."

A wide, disbelieving grin was spreading across Terra's face, "So you can help her?!"

"One never knows until they try. If she is determined, she will prevail, of that much I am certain."

* * *

Though Terra and Mari tried to get in contact with Zephira again, Selador informed them that the wind dragoness had likely had enough for one day, and suggested they try instead in the morning. Unfortunately, Hunter decided they would be leaving for Avalar first thing in the morning—or, at least, right after breakfast. Terra reminded herself to wake up early in hopes of finding time to speak with Zephira. She hoped her body clock remembered.

Lucky for her, she found herself awake barely an hour after dawn. The city was still quiet, and she could hear Cougar snoring through the wall. Shaking Mari awake, Terra slipped her tunic back on and waited impatiently for the cheetah to get up.

"Why so early?" Mari groaned, rolling off her bed of cushions and landing sprawled on the cold floor instead. She grimaced and got sleepily to her feet, rubbing her eyes.

"Because Hunter's always up early, and we'll probably have to leave in a few hours," Terra pointed out, tapping her foot while Mari wriggled into her bright blue tunic. "Now come on, Selador's house is a good twenty minutes away if we walk fast."

"I hope you remember the way to go," Mari yawned, trailing out of the room after her friend. "I sure don't."

"Don't worry; I'm pretty good with directions."

Twenty minutes later, the friends were completely lost in an unfamiliar part of the city. Managing to get directions from a passing mole, they hurried on feeling embarrassed.

"You're not good with directions, you're directionally _challenged_," Mari pointed out teasingly as they jogged through the streets, which were mostly empty in the early morning hours. Terra blushed beneath her dark fur and didn't respond.

It took them another quarter of an hour to find Selador's house, thanks to two more wrong turns, both of which had ended in dead ends and embarrassment. The sun was creeping upwards quicker than Terra would have liked by the time she raised her paw to knock. Mari was panting lightly.

"Remind me…never to leave you in charge…of directions," she mumbled between breaths, grinning. Terra smiled sheepishly and knocked three times.

Silence answered them at first, then the sound of paws approaching the other side of the door. It swung open to reveal the graceful figure of the navy dragoness, wearing her faded bronze armour as always, and looking as though she'd been up at the crack of dawn. Selador smiled warmly at her two guests.

"My, you're up early," she remarked, taking note of their breathless panting. "Looks like you had a bit of an adventure."

"We got lost trying to find this place," Terra said with a sheepish grin.

"Three times," Mari added, making a face. Selador chuckled.

"Come in, then. Zephira will be awake soon. She rarely sleeps late."

Terra and Mari gratefully followed the dragoness into her house, shutting the door behind them. They admired the simple but elegant entrance hall, paws treading respectfully on the plush cream carpet under their feet. The room they stepped into was large and circular. A round, cream carpet with embroidered gold patterns lay in the centre, surrounded by gold cushions. In the fireplace on the right wall, a fire crackled merrily beneath what appeared to be a large marble bowl suspended on a wire frame. Terra thought she saw liquid bubbling inside it.

"Make yourselves at home," Selador said, gesturing to the cushions. "I was just making tea."

The felines did so, passing a brief glance at the three curtained doorways on the far wall. Terra could only assume Zephira was sleeping in one of those rooms. Selador retrieved a clay bowl from the ledge above the fireplace and glanced at her guests. "Tea?"

"Please," Terra agreed politely, and Mari nodded.

Moments later, they both sat with clay bowls of steaming tea in their paws. Terra had never seen tea served like this—in bowls instead of cups. Though, she supposed it was more practical for dragons. She glanced sideways at Selador, who had placed her own bowl on the floor between her forepaws and was lapping daintily at it. There were leaves floating in the tea, which was another new thing to Terra—in her tribe, leaves were typically drained before the tea was drunk.

"You have different customs," Terra said after she had taken a sip of tea. It was scalding hot and she decided to let it cool for a moment. "Usually tea is served in cups."

Selador's eyes twinkled, "We are different species with different ways after all. Would be strange if there were no cultural differences."

"Must be hard to live without thumbs," Mari mused aloud, sipping at her tea and then sticking her tongue out when it proved too hot. Selador laughed quietly.

Several minutes passed with tea and idle small-talk, until one of the gold curtains was pushed aside. A white dragoness stepped out, yawning, and then froze at the sight of the panther sitting on the cushion in front of her. Terra smiled reassuringly, setting her tea down carefully.

"Good morning, Zephira," Selador called, noticing the young dragoness's shock. Zephira blinked and turned her gaze towards her mentor. She visibly relaxed, as though the sight of Selador had calmed her nerves.

"Good morning," she replied, nodding at Terra and Mari, and slinking over to sit by Selador.

"Sorry for intruding," Terra offered, looking sheepish for the third time that day. "We wanted to see you before we left for Avalar."

Zephira glanced from panther to cheetah and back again. "Oh."

Awkward silence descended upon the group, but only for a moment. Selador cleared her throat as she finished the last of her tea and stood up.

"Well then, I think I'll head to the main hall for breakfast. You're welcome to join me when you're finished."

"Ah, thank you," Terra stammered. "We won't take long, there's just something I'd like to mention to Zephira."

Selador glanced down at the white dragoness, and she nodded with only slight hesitation. Bidding the felines farewell for the moment, the navy dragoness stepped out and left them to speak alone. Once more, silence descended, but Zephira didn't let it last for long.

"What did you want to say?" she asked, her voice soft and uncertain. Terra sipped the last of her tea as she pondered how to word it.

"We talked to Mother Seak yesterday," Mari piped up before Terra could speak. Zephira straightened at the mention of the old dragoness she had always revered.

"We wanted to ask her if there was a way for…" Terra hesitated before forging onward, "if there is a way for you to fly again."

Zephira's eyes darkened slightly, and her ruined wing twitched. "What did she say?"

"She said she'll help you any way she can. And…she doesn't think it's impossible."

For the first time since her brother's death, Zephira felt hope spring anew in her heart. The thought that she might once again be able to soar amongst the clouds sent trembles of anticipation rippling along her spine. She sat up straighter, a new light glistening in her violet eyes.

"She really said that?"

Terra nodded. Zephira shivered with nervous excitement, glancing down at her malformed wing, not with disgust but with hope. Then, as though a cloud had moved over the sun, her face fell into misery again.

"No… I'd never succeed."

Terra stared, startled by this unexpected reaction. "What do you mean? Of course you will! All you have to do is _try_."

Zephira shook her head, shifting so that her ruined wing was hidden from the felines' view. "No. I've never been strong or resourceful like my brother—without him, I can only fail. And I can't bear to fail again—I couldn't bear the false hope to fly again. It's…it's better I don't even try."

A sudden rush of anger bristled the hair on Terra's shoulders and she found herself exclaiming, "Are you listening to yourself?! Nothing good ever came from giving up before you even try! Just because you're afraid of failing doesn't mean you shouldn't give it a go! If you don't, how will you ever know if you could have succeeded? Don't you want to fly again?"

"Of course I do!" Zephira shot back, shrinking away from the panther and curling her tail defensively around herself. "But why bother when I'm just going to fail? All I've ever done since Ciro died is fail! I failed my friends because I couldn't go with them! I failed Myst because I couldn't take care of her myself! I failed Ciro because…"—her voice cracked—"because I couldn't avenge him! I…I failed y-_you_…"

Zephira choked and looked away, blinking furiously. "…because I refused to see that you weren't a monster. I-I can't handle another failure…"

There was a soft rustle of fabric as Mari stood up from her cushion and padded to Zephira's side. The white dragoness winced and looked up when she felt a soft paw on her head, only to see Mari settled beside her. The cheetah stroked her pearly scales gently, a sad but caring look in her cyan eyes. Zephira rubbed her eyes and stayed silent.

"We all make mistakes," the cheetah murmured, in a voice as quiet and gentle as a warm breeze. "But that doesn't mean all we can ever do is fail. If we don't keep moving forward, how will we ever put those mistakes behind us? As long as we keep doing what is right…we'll all succeed one day. I know it."

"You can't let fear of failure stop you," Terra added, though she stayed where she was. "And Mari's right. Mistakes aren't failures. They're just…bumps along the road. No one ever truly fails unless they give up. …I don't want you to give up."

"But…but what if I can't do it?" Zephira whispered, resting her head against Mari's leg. The cheetah stroked the spot between her horns gently.

"Then you try again," Terra said, "and you keep trying until you succeed. And I know you will. One day we will see you fly."

Zephira closed her eyes and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Terra met Mari's eyes and smiled. Setting her empty tea bowl aside, the pantheress got to her feet and smoothed out the wrinkles in her tunic.

"Let's discuss this over breakfast. I'm starved."

* * *

It was in the wake of reluctant goodbyes and promises to return that Hunter and his motley crew left Warfang that morning. Selador and her three charges saw them off after breakfast, and Zephira gave Terra her word that she would make the effort to fly again. The dragons stood upon the battlements and watched their allies disappear into the Forbidden Passage, wishing them a safe return to Avalar.

With no good reason to hurry, the cats took the trip at a leisurely pace, and it was late afternoon by the time they returned to the Valley. The entrance to the village was guarded by two cheetahs and a disgruntled-looking blue dragon.

"Captain Hunter!" the darker-furred cheetah called as they made their way up the winding path to the village entrance. "It's good to see you alive and well."

"And all of you," Hunter replied, dipping his head at the three guards.

"I hope your presence here means the battle at Warfang was won?" the dragon said, his voice grim. "We would have come to your assistance, but Captain Seriphos's orders were to protect the cheetah tribe no matter what—and your chief would not be budged."

The bitterness in the dragon's voice was unmistakable. Hunter couldn't blame him.

"The enemy has been pushed back a second time," he assured the guards. "They'd be fools to try again. If you'll excuse us, we need to speak with Chief Prowlus."

The guard dragon nodded, seemingly satisfied, and stepped aside. He and the two cheetah guards eyed Terra suspiciously as she and the other two cheetahs followed Hunter into the village. More surprised and suspicious glances were sent their way as they headed for Prowlus's hut. Terra kept her eyes straight ahead, tense with nerves.

There was another dragon standing outside the chief's hut. From the looks of it, he was the only dragon inside the village—the rest were camped outside the balustrade. This dragon bowed respectfully as Hunter approached, and stepped aside to allow him entrance. The reed curtain rustled as he pushed it aside.

Prowlus and his advisor, the blue cheetah Forage, were hunched over his desk when Hunter entered. They appeared to have been in deep conversation, but looked up immediately at the sound of the curtain being pushed aside. Hunter inclined his head at the chief, crossing one paw over his chest respectfully. Prowlus sat up straighter.

"You've returned, Hunter," he said unnecessarily, his tone suggesting that he had not expected his captain's return so soon.

Hunter opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment Cougar led the two she-cats in behind him, and Prowlus's eyes narrowed at the sight of Terra.

"Why have you brought the traitor back to us?" he asked darkly, resting a hand on the table and pushing himself to his feet. "Did I not say that she was the dragons' problem now?"

"Terra is neither traitor nor problem," Hunter responded daringly, meeting his chief's eyes with defiance. "She fulfilled her duty to the dragons when she assisted them during the battle. That's more than can be said for you, chief Prowlus."

Prowlus's eyes flashed with anger. "You dare compare me to traitorous panther filth?"

"I _dare_ to ask why you didn't assist our allies against a foe that was brought upon them because of us in the first place!"

"And lead our warriors to their _death_?"

"It hasn't stopped you before!"

"Hey, whoa!" Cougar interrupted, planting himself between chief and captain. He grinned lopsidedly as they glared daggers at each other. "We just got back and already you're at each other's throats! No need to rush; there's plenty of time to strangle each other."

"Now is not the time for your jokes, Cougar," Hunter growled without taking his eyes off Prowlus.

"Perhaps not," Forage agreed, standing up from the table behind the chief, "but nor is it time for heated arguments, if you don't mind me saying, sirs."

Prowlus glowered at Hunter a moment longer before he broke the glare and said reluctantly, "Forage is right. Perhaps we should both be given a chance to explain. Forage, please escort these two out. I would speak with Hunter and the traitor alone."

"But…" Mari started to argue, only to fall silent at a shake of the head from her cousin. Squeezing Terra's paw briefly, she followed Cougar and Forage out of the hut.

Terra shivered nervously as the reed curtain swung shut, separating her from her best friend. She was glad Hunter was still beside her, and hoped he would be able to do most of the talking. Prowlus's angry, distrusting gaze set her on edge.

"I should not have to defend myself from my captain and a traitor," Prowlus started bitterly, "but since you believe otherwise… I chose not to lead our warriors into battle at Warfang for two reasons. One; against a foe that large, and with such small numbers ourselves, we would have been little assistance to the dragons. We may have even gotten in their way. And more importantly, it is not the dragons, but us who are the panthers' true targets. Falling in battle to them anywhere but here in Avalar would be an insult to both our races. There was also a good chance that battle could have been a ruse to draw us away from Avalar, so that they might take the valley in our absence. It was in our tribe's best interest that I chose to remain here."

"Think about it, Hunter," the chief continued, pacing in front of him. "If the dragons wish to act as our living shield, then it would not only jeopardise our lives but undermine _their_ efforts if we were to fall in battle while assisting them. The dragons knew what they were getting into when they chose to intervene on this thousand-year feud. And I must do what is best for my tribe."

"That did not stop you from coming to their assistance during the former battle," Hunter pointed out.

"Perhaps, but we were unprepared for the scale of that first attack. We were lucky to arrive in the final moments of struggle, or the outcome for our warriors could have been drastically different. We were little help that time. I do not make mistakes twice."

Hunter nodded grimly, his face set. "I don't like it, but I understand. I suppose in times of war, we all must make difficult choices."

"Now then," Prowlus stopped pacing and stared hard at the two cats in front of him—one light; one dark. "Why don't you explain _your_selves?"

With a stiff nod, Hunter explained. He spoke of the Guardians' suspicions of Terra, of the tense days at Warfang while they had waited for the panthers to show themselves, of all Terra had told him about her tribe, and the small events that had led him to start trusting her. He spoke of the battle itself, how Terra's warning had proved true, allowing the dragons to prepare for the Dreadwing army. His own battle with Skelos and Skulk gained a mention, as did the moment upon the battlements when Terra's true colours came to light, and she was branded a traitor by her own tribe. By the time he was finished, his throat was dry and his voice hoarse.

"She's done more than enough to prove her allegiance to us," Hunter concluded approximately ten minutes later, "which is why I've brought her back. She doesn't belong with the panthers any longer; or with the dragons. She is one of us. I want to make that official."

Prowlus was silent for some time, his arms crossed over his chest as he considered Terra, who had been standing slightly behind Hunter, silent the whole time. At length, he spoke. "You ask that a _panther_ be inducted as part of our tribe?"

"No. I ask that a friend and ally become part of our tribe."

Terra flashed him a quick, grateful smile. Prowlus's jaw tightened.

"And what have you to say about this, panther?" he asked sharply, causing her to jump. "Speak! Do you care to become one of us, to become a true traitor to your own species, or is this of no concern to you?"

Terra mouthed wordlessly for a few moments before she found her voice. "I…I want to join your tribe. I have allies and friends here, and I care about them. And…I want to help you stop my tribe from doing something that I know everyone will regret in years to come. Please; it's all I can ask."

She bowed her head to the chief, not daring to meet his eyes. The back of her neck tingled as she did so, and she thought she had never felt as vulnerable as she did in that moment. But Hunter's sturdy frame at her side gave her the courage she needed. Tensely, she waited for the chief's verdict.

"No panther has been welcome in this valley for over a thousand years. I had planned to keep it that way. But if my captain feels so strongly that this is the right thing to do, I will concede. I do not trust you, panther. I challenge you to change that."

Terra raised her head, hardly daring to believe her ears. Prowlus just glared sternly at her, and she stammered her thanks, still wondering if she had heard him correctly.

"You won't regret this decision," Hunter assured his chief, clasping his paw gratefully. "She will be a valuable asset to our tribe."

"I hope you are right about that, Hunter."

When Terra and Hunter stepped out of the hut a few minutes later, they found Mari and Cougar sitting on the ground waiting for them. The former jumped up immediately and, upon hearing the news she wanted to hear, threw her arms around Terra in the tightest hug she could manage. Cougar stood up and clapped Hunter on the shoulder.

"Guess it went well, huh?" he asked, grinning.

Hunter smiled as though a great weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. "Better than I could have hoped. Come, let's take this chance to rest and enjoy ourselves. We'll talk to Prowlus about the weapons tomorrow…"

Cougar agreed with a silent thumbs-up and Hunter called to the girls.

"Terra, if I could have a word?" he asked, beckoning her over. The panther extracted herself from Mari's embrace and moved to his side. "Come with me a moment. I have something for you."

Curious, Terra trailed after the cheetah captain, leaving Cougar and Mari to their own devices. Hunter led her to a small hut near the balustrade on the side of the city closest to the river. He held the reed curtain aside and beckoned her inside before following her in himself. Rubbing her arm awkwardly, Terra examined the small hut she had stepped into.

The walls were formed of logs packed with dried mud, and the floor itself was merely packed dirt. In the far corner was a circle of stones around what appeared to be the old remains of a fire. Cushions made from reed and leaves were scattered around it, and there was a faded red and gold banner on the wall. To her right was a ladder that led up to the top floor of the hut. It was there that Hunter went, hauling himself up the ladder with practised ease. Terra followed more cautiously.

The floor here was smooth and wooden, and there was a cot in the corner against the far wall. A tall wooden basket full of scabbards, quivers, bows and arrows sat in the corner opposite the cot. The left wall opened out onto a narrow balcony that overlooked the village.

"This is where I've lived ever since I was a young cub," Hunter said, turning to face her as she ascended the ladder to join him.

"It seems…nice," Terra said awkwardly, trailing over to the balcony to look out at the village. Why Hunter had brought her here, she had no idea.

"Most huts here are very similar. You'll be staying with Mari, no doubt, at least for now. Maybe when all this is over we can build you your own hut."

Terra rested her paws on the balcony and smiled. "That would be great."

For some time she simply stared out over the village, watching the cheetahs go about their lives below her. It was a small but homely place, and she felt a twinge of guilt when she thought of how her tribe had tried to take all this away from them. They seemed so peaceful and unassuming here, amongst the safety of the valley. It did not seem like a place that should have been touched by war.

Paw steps sounded behind her, and Terra turned around to find Hunter standing there. He offered her a welcoming smile and, to her confusion, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. It was a good thing her dark fur didn't make that apparent.

"There'll be a ceremony tonight—a small one. There always is when we accept a new member into our tribe, or when a cub comes of age. It's tradition for the chief to present them with a gift, but…well, I doubt that's going to happen this time."

Terra shook her head. "It doesn't matter; just being allowed to stay is—"

Hunter held up a paw and silenced her, then continued. "So I thought I'd take it upon myself to give you something. I thought of it yesterday. Consider it both a welcome gift, and a way of thanking you for everything you've done for us so far."

Without another word, he unclipped his scabbard from around his waist and held it out, sword and all, to Terra. The panther stared from him to the sword and back again, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"You're giving this to me? But…but it's your sword!"

"It's yours now," Hunter said with a wry smile.

Terra took the sheathed sword hesitantly, holding it reverently in both paws. Then her gaze flickered back up to Hunter, looking concerned. "But what about you? What will you fight with?"

"I have my bow—and believe me, I've always been a better marksman than swordsman. But…" At this point he unclipped his quiver and laid it upon his cot. From amongst the arrows he pulled a long object wrapped in oil cloth. "…I have a new sword now."

The cloth fell away, fluttering to the floor, and Terra's breath hitched at the sight of the sword Mari had found in the gardens. The blue gems glistened as brightly as before, concealing their true power behind a guise of innocent beauty.

"You kept it?" Terra stammered.

Hunter held the blade out in front of him, admiring its bluish sheen. Terra had to admit it seemed to suit him somehow, as though it had been crafted to be held by his paw.

"If I am to face enemies who wield elemental magic, then I will beat them at their own game. The Guardians are looking in to crafting more, though it may take some time—working with spirit gems is a tricky business, so they say. But I will keep this one."

Terra gazed at the scabbard in her paws. "So I guess you won't need this one anymore."

Hunter set his new sword down on his cot and smiled. "That sword has served me well over the years. Now, it will do the same for you. Will you accept it?"

Terra only hesitated a moment, and her eyes were shining with gratitude when she spoke. "I would be honoured to."

* * *

Two nights had passed since the night they had chosen to change course; two nights in which Cynder had continued to have the same dream. The silhouette—which she was sure she recognised now—beckoned her to follow, and follow she did. When she awoke, the feeling remained with her. As though she was still following the figure from her dreams, she led the others onwards, somehow always knowing the way.

Spyro became restless when the grey spirit failed to show itself again. Cynder knew he was afraid they had made the wrong choice by choosing to change direction, but he could not feel the northward pull. He did not dream of the guiding silhouette. She knew they were on the right track, wherever that track led to.

It was on the second night that something changed in the dream. At first it had been the same—running through fog. But then lightning flashes had obscured the void ahead of her, and for a moment she'd thought she'd seen the shadow of a towering monolith looming in the distance. Cynder had awoken before she'd gotten a good look, but the dream stayed with her and kept her nerves on edge.

Later that morning, Sparx and Nadi—who had scouted ahead to look for butterflies to quell the dragonfly's hunger—spotted a copse of spirit gems nestled at the edge of a small forest. The land became rocky and barren beyond that, prompting the gang to stop and gather strength while they still could.

"I've never seen spirit gems growing wild like this," Saffron observed as she shattered the multi-coloured gem into absorbable shards. The freed magic sank into her scales, and she sighed at the relief it brought.

"Guess you haven't gotten out much," Cynder said. "Spyro and I ran into them all the time during the war. They seem to be able to grow anywhere."

"Aren't dragons sent out to collect spirit gems and bring them back to Warfang for use in the infirmary?" Ember piped up. The spirit gems, with their vaguely pinkish hue, gave her naturally pink scales a strange pearly sheen. "At least, that's what I've heard."

Roku overheard the conversation and moved over to help the pink dragoness smash a particularly stubborn growth of crystal. "I used to do the same for Ethra. Collect spirit gems, I mean. They were never hard to come by outside the city."

Nearby, Spyro was watching Sparx flit to and fro, catching the white butterflies that gathered in clumps around the spirit gems. They seemed attracted to the natural glow of the crystals, and were all too easily snatched up by the hungry dragonfly.

"Hey, Spyro, we should grow these things at home," Sparx called over his shoulder after stuffing a butterfly into his mouth whole. A rumbling belch left his throat and he wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. "I'd have an all-you-can-eat buffet whenever I wanted it!"

Spyro just smiled weakly and shook his head. The past few days had left him feeling ill with worry. He wasn't even sure what he was doing any more—where he was going, why he was going there, or what he was supposed to do there. The others knew even less than he did, and only Cynder seemed to have idea what was going on. But she was following dreams that Spyro couldn't see himself, and it left him tense and uneasy.

Too much had happened in these last few weeks. Spyro could hardly recall the peaceful times before the festival and all that had followed. It seemed like so long ago, that fateful night when he had seen that look of unbridled fear on Hunter's face. That was where it all started. A simple note. A failed assassination. How had everything spiralled out of control so quickly?

Now here he was, in the middle of nowhere, chasing spirits and ghosts from his past. Where would it all end? A part of him didn't want to know the answer to that.

He missed Warfang. He missed who he had been all those long weeks ago—a carefree, happy dragon with the worst of his life behind him; or so he had thought. Who was he now? _What_ was he now?

"Spyro, everything okay?"

Spyro blinked out of his reverie to find Cynder standing in front of him. She looked slightly concerned, and he wondered how long he had been staring blankly into the distance. He offered her a strained smile in the hopes of reassuring her, but she didn't look convinced.

"Should we move on?" he asked, hoping to divert her attention away from him.

"Soon," Cynder said, "but I thought it'd be a good idea to take some of these gems with us. Just in case."

"Oh, right. Um…how do we carry…?"

Cynder gestured to his flank, and Spyro craned his head, confused. The woven reed bag his dragonfly parents had given him rested unassuming against his violet scales. He had almost forgotten its existence.

"I forgot they gave this to me…" he mumbled aloud, reaching a paw back to flip the bag open. Something glinted inside and he frowned, reaching inside to grab it. The object turned out to be a white, diamond-shaped gem, about as wide as his paw and as long as Sparx from tail-tip to antennae.

"Where did you get that?" Cynder asked curiously. Spyro frowned and shook his head.

"Oh, oh!" Sparx interrupted, flitting over to them. "That thing's mine! The fireflies gave it to us when we saved them from the creepy dog things."

"It looks like a spirit gem," Cynder mused, squinting at the milky-white gem. A fog like substance turned slowly in the depths of the crystal. "But not like any spirit gem I've seen before. It's…strange."

"Whatever it is, we might as well keep it," Spyro replied, slipping it back in the bag. "It might be useful."

"Only if I say you can use it," Sparx pointed out smugly. "You know, since it's mine."

Cynder rolled her eyes and turned away. She returned moments later with several large chunks of spirit gem that she slipped into Spyro's bag. It wasn't much, but it was all that would fit.

"It's better than nothing," the black dragoness pointed out. "Hopefully we won't need to use them."

They moved on after that, leaving the spirit gem grove behind them, however reluctantly. The land below became earthy and barren, until it was as though they were flying over a sea of rock. The further they flew, the more Cynder grew uneasy. She knew this place—somewhere in the back of her most ancient memories, she knew this place. A pit of worry grew inside her, spreading like poison through her veins.

The other dragons seemed to catch on to her unease, and for some time they flew in silence, as though a blanket of anxiety was stretched above them. Their wing beats grew slow and heavy as afternoon approached, and the sky darkened far quicker than it should have. Great clouds loomed on the horizon, like a massive storm that had been brewing for years but had never broken. By now, Cynder knew her instincts had not been wrong.

"We need to land," she called over her shoulder, and no one argued. The air felt like it was charged with electricity, and no one was keen to stay in the sky.

Cynder turned around when everyone had alighted behind her, and they were surprised—not by the worry in her eyes, but by the unmistakable marks of guilt upon her face. It was with a solemn tone that she spoke.

"I've had a hunch ever since that Dreadwing attack that I knew where we were headed," she said. "Now I know I was right. We're about to head into dangerous territory…and I'm not sure why I'm being led there. I don't expect any of you to feel obliged to follow me. Maybe this is something I need to do myself—or maybe not. But I can't expect to drag all of you into danger when I'm the only one being pulled there."

Most of the dragons exchanged confused glances, but both Spyro and Sparx had also recognised the dark skies that lay ahead—and the strange, crystal-like sheen that shimmered on the rocks around them. They stayed grim and silent, but Cynder knew from Spyro's eyes that he wasn't going to let her go alone.

"Cynder, what are you talking about?" Ember asked nervously. "Why wouldn't we go with you? And what is this place that's so dangerous?"

Cynder glanced behind her at the dark clouds that swallowed the sky. Then she took a deep breath and turned back to her friends, her face set.

"That place is my old fortress. Concurrent Skies."

**A/N: Welp. Betcha can all guess where next chapter's going to be set... Let's see if I can't make Cynder the focus of next chapter, just as Terra was the focus of this one. And Kazan and Zannak finally got a scene...been waiting for the right place to put that.**

**Hm. I don't know why, but I feel my writing style changed a bit during this chapter. Or I could be going mad. Anyway, thanks for reading and, as always, many thanks for the reviews. :] We've just breached 60 000 hits, too. Hooray~ :3 See you next time!**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Hey look, an update that's...slightly less than a month after the last one. I'm good at this. This chapter threw me for a loop. It was...really hard to write for some reason. Probably because I didn't actually have a plan for—well—anything, so I just had to wing it. I hope it's okay~ Please enjoy. :]**

* * *

**32.**

The instant she set paw upon the cold crystalline earth, it was as though she was transported back to a time, years ago, when life had been so much different. She recalled memories of standing taller, darker and with more grace that she did now. The memories of apes bowing before her and Dreadwings bending to her will flashed like visions in the forefront of her mind. As she gazed into the roiling storm that had never truly broken and saw the dark monolith that dominated its very centre, rising to pierce the lightning-choked clouds, she remembered how it had felt to be the Terror of the Skies.

Exhilarating.

Horrifying.

Trapped.

Cynder suppressed a shudder and forcefully willed the memories away. She was a free dragon now, not a mindless beast trapped by a monster's will. The presence of her friends reminded her that she was not alone. They crowded around her, shivering in the cold air. All eyes were trained on the fortress in the distance. It towered over a land choked by jagged growths of dark gem that shimmered with a sickly greyish light. Cynder swallowed hard, but fear remained lodged in her throat.

"So…you're sure this is where we have to go?" Sparx asked nervously, hovering between her and Spyro.

Cynder glanced sideways at him, wondering the same question herself. Then the Poison Claws trembled and jerked violently, almost pulling her forward, and Cynder's head snapped back in alarm. She stared nervously at her satchel. Though it had fallen still again, the message was clear—as was the insatiable urge to head towards the dark fortress.

"I'm sure," she said in an unwavering, even tone. "That's where I'm being led. I don't know why, but I have to go there."

"Oh great. Once again, no journey can be complete without travelling into the darkest pits of _despair_." Sparx groaned and slapped his forehead. "I need a vacation."

"Are you sure about this, Cynder?" Spyro asked, a flighty, frightened look in his eyes. "We could just move on… Continue heading west like the Chronicler told us to. We don't have to stop here."

"I don't like it any more than you do," Cynder admitted. "But we can't ignore this. Something needs us here, and I'm going to find out what it is."

"Since when has listening to dreams ever been a good idea?" Sparx grumbled under his breath. "Do I need to go into what's happened every time Spyro gets one of his weird dreams?"

Cynder merely shook her head and stepped forward, half-spreading her wings. It was a far way through the maze of crystals to the fortress on foot, but barely a few minutes' flight. She knew which she preferred. Turning her head, she met the eyes of her friends.

"I won't make you follow me."

"We're coming with you," Ember said. Her voice was blunt and left no opportunity for discussion. Hard blue eyes met green, and Cynder nodded stiffly.

"Keep low," was all she said before she sprang into the sky. Electricity tingled on the edges of her scales, reminding her of the many nights she had spent here, soaring above her fortress in brooding silence. The Dreadwings had known better than to bother her then; perhaps they still would now.

In a silent procession, the group of dragons flew low over the barren wasteland of dark crystal, weaving around the taller spikes. Most of them couldn't resist turning their gazes towards the earth, their sharp eyes easily picking out the remnants of old ape machinery that had been left behind in the wake of the war. Spyro didn't look, and nor did Cynder. Their eyes remained trained on their destination—that dark fortress in the eye of the storm where they had truly faced each other for the first time. The memories made Spyro shiver.

"This place is as much of a dump as I remember," Sparx muttered in his ear, but Spyro gave no indication that he had heard.

The skies were eerily empty, a sign that felt strangely ominous to Cynder. She remembered when this entire place had been choked with Dreadwings, and their giant, leathery wingspans had covered the sky. Now there was only her and the shadow of her fortress. Why, then, did she feel like a thousand eyes were watching?

"Is this place giving anyone else the creeps?" Zannak called suddenly, and half the group flinched at the unexpected break of silence. Saffron shot him a glare.

"Yes, it's almost as creepy as you, now keep it down," she hissed. "We don't know what could be listening."

"What, like, the wind? I don't know about you, but this place looks pretty deserted to me."

"So did the White Isle at first," Saffron grumbled back and Zannak fell silent.

Nothing more was said until the fortress was so close that it took up most of their vision. Cynder took one glance towards the peak before leading the group down to the base of the towering building. A great, sloping flight of jet-black stairs, wide enough for ten full-grown dragons to ascend it side by side, led up to the arching entrance. Over the sleek black stone nine dragons crept, huddling together subconsciously. Cynder led them with her head held high and a determined glint in her eyes. Every stone step was another closer to her distant past—or so it felt.

At last they stood at the foot of the high entrance, its sleek, closed doors as black and glossy as Cynder's own scales. The dragoness herself raised a paw and held it there, inches from the door, frozen by uncertainty. Somewhere above them, the deep _boom_ of thunder shuddered through the sky.

"We shouldn't be here," Ember whispered, her voice cracking in the silence. She sounded unnerved—no, terrified. Flame wordlessly extended a wing across her back and she huddled against him, her eyes raking the stormy sky.

"Why hasn't anything bothered us?" he asked in a low voice that was nonetheless audible to the others. "It feels like we're being watched, but…this place is just _empty_. I've got a bad feeling."

Cynder didn't take her eyes off the sleek door inches from her paw. They were glossed over with thought, as though she was gazing at things far away—things unable to be seen by another's eyes. Her neck arched and her shoulders squared, a graceful poise entering her stance that none had seen for years. For a moment she was a queen again—a cold, dark queen surrounded by her cold, dark realm.

"No," she said softly, resting her paw on the door at last. It was cold under her pad, but not unpleasantly so—like a dip in a cool spring during the heat of the day. "You shouldn't be here. But I should."

Spyro cast her an uneasy glance. "Cynder?"

Cynder blinked and shuddered, a shiver crawling over her spine. Her body lost its queen-like poise, relaxing into the casual yet graceful stance of a proud young dragoness. Shaking her head, she blinked the mist from her eyes and turned a strained smile on her friends.

"I'm sorry. It's strange being back here. Let's just get this over with—whatever it is we need to do here."

So saying, she turned back to the door and reared up, placing both forepaws on its cold surface. It creaked inwards at the slightest pressure, as though welcoming its former mistress once more into its dark embrace. Cynder's paws fell back to earth and she stared into the darkness of her old fortress's entrance hall. Little could be seen beyond the dim ray of light that crept in through the open door, illuminating a grey stone floor.

Without looking back at the others, she stepped through the doors.

The familiarity hit almost instantly. It was like a gush of hot air, so strong it could have swept her off her paws and slammed her into the ground. Memories flickered to life behind her eyes—standing in this hall, bathed in violet light from the stained-glass windows through which the lightning flashed. The room hadn't been this dark back then. She remembered strange electric lights that glowed with a reddish-purple shimmer, powered—like everything else in this fortress—by spirit gems. It had been a long time since those lights had seen use, and only the dim glow of the storm outside illuminated the room through violet-tinted windows.

As though in a trance, Cynder walked down the narrow hallway that led away from the doors. She didn't notice the others come in behind her, or even hear them as they trailed uneasily in her wake. Her attention was fixed solely on the elevator in the room ahead. The rings of reddish-violet that decorated the elevator still glowed as brightly as they had back then. Perhaps it still worked.

"Um…where's the ceiling?" Saffron asked nervously. Cynder jumped and spun around at the unexpected sound. Moments later she wondered why the presence of her friends had startled her so much. Currently, Saffron was gazing up—up into the dark expanse of nothing where the ceiling should have been.

"Maybe this room extends all the way to the top," Nadi suggested, looking vaguely impressed by the thought. Cynder opened her mouth to correct them, only to waver uncertainly. The sudden urge to be alone here encroached upon her. She wanted to be away from these dragons she was supposed to consider her friends, as though they had intruded upon her most private of quarters. She didn't want them here.

Shaking the strange thoughts from her mind, Cynder quietly scolded herself before answering. "Not quite. It only goes up a few floors, but it will save us some time getting to the top. I mean…if it is the top we need to get to."

Cynder shuddered, unnerved by the realisation that she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing here or even where she was going. But something urged her to go upwards, and she had no reason not to comply.

"What will save us time?" Saffron asked.

The black dragoness beckoned her friends around her, calling them into the centre of the room where a small circle of indigo glass appeared to have been imbedded into the stone. The glowing red-violet rings led into—or was it away from?—this circle, as though it was the centre point of ripples in a pond.

"Watch," was all she said, before placing all four paws on the glass circle. It shimmered under her paws, and the entire floor—or most of it—jerked upwards. Most of the group cried out in alarm and flattened themselves to the floor, but that did nothing to stall its upward motion. Only Cynder, Spyro and Sparx seemed unfazed.

"Someone tell me what's going on?" Flame grunted, uneasily picking himself up again. He staggered slightly as the floor continued to move up towards the distant ceiling, carrying him and everyone else with it. "Is this magic?"

"Technology," Cynder said shortly. "Apes crafted things like this back when they first joined Malefor's cause. It's nothing to be afraid of."

Most seem satisfied by that explanation, and though Flame looked annoyed by the lack of forthcoming information, he didn't push it any further. The elevator carried them upwards, just as it had a platoon of panthers not much more than a week or two previously. It ground to a halt minutes later, jolting its passengers. Cynder stepped off the elevator and stood for a moment, considering the arching openings of three almost identical corridors. She wavered, undecided, until an invisible force nudged her onwards to the centre passage. Unquestioningly, she carried on.

"Something not riii-iight," Sparx sang nervously as the group trailed after their silent guide. He kept twisting his tiny hands and stayed close to Spyro's head. "Where's all the evil things trying to kill us? We should have had at least three near-death experiences by now! Spyro, I'm getting creeped out. Last time even the walls were trying to murder us!"

"I know, Sparx," Spyro murmured, "but this place seems deserted. I think it must have been abandoned after we…saved Cynder."

"So why's the weird elevator thing still working?"

Spyro didn't have an answer for that, and nobody else seemed willing to speak. It was as though the fortress itself was demanding silence. Cynder seemed unaffected, her head held high as she walked down the corridor, and that worried Spyro for reasons he couldn't explain.

Cynder felt strange. A strange fog was lingering at the edges of her mind, dulling her senses ever so slightly. Her eyelids felt heavy as she walked, and there was a strange tug at the back of her consciousness, dragging her back to a time she almost couldn't remember. The fog grew thicker, and suddenly she was not a young dragoness leading her friends through a hostile, silent fortress—she was a dark mistress, a queen, striding purposefully at the head of a battalion of apes. This place was not hostile, but home. The patter of furred paws on stone and the clatter of armour and weaponry pervaded her mind.

"_Triple the guards at the outer towers and make sure all diodes are in working order. I will not have that whelpling interfering." _

"_As you wish, Mistress Cynder," grunted the deep, gravelly voice of the ape commander. His armour clanked loudly with every step, and he carried a heavy staff, upon the head of which rested a shimmering yellow spirit gem. "And what of the defences for the main towers?"_

"_I want the best soldiers you have guarding my fortress. If the purple whelp breaks through the outer defences, they may be all that can stop him. Program twice the usual amount of Conduits. If you pitiful apes cannot stop the whelp, perhaps they can."_

"_Yes, Mistress Cynder."_

_Silence encroached, broken only by the clanking of armour as the small platoon of apes dutifully followed their leader down the corridor. At length, the ape commander spoke again._

"_You are certain he will come, my queen?"_

_Cynder allowed herself a cold chuckle. "Oh yes. He is far too selfless to abandon that old, foolish guardian. But by the time he gets here, it will be too l—"_

"What do you think that is?" inquired a strangely familiar voice.

Her concentration broken, Cynder whirled around to reprimand the foolish ape who had dared to interrupt her, only to falter in confusion when her eyes fell not on apes but on dragons. The hostility dropped from her stance and the fog receded from her mind, reminding her that those times were in the past—she was a dark mistress no longer, and there were certainly no apes awaiting her orders here. Gulping, she steadied herself and took a moment to regain her bearings.

It was Zannak who had spoken. His head was craned towards a strange device high up on the wall near the end of the corridor. It looked like a reddish-purple spirit gem, a sleek, sharp pyramid about as big as a young dragon's head, protruding sideways from the wall. Spiky black claws curled from the wall to hold it in place and, every now and then, a thrill of pinkish-red electricity trailed along its length.

"Doesn't look friendly," Kazan muttered, padding over to get a better look at the strange device.

"Stay away from that!" Cynder exclaimed suddenly, making everyone jump. The device crackled more fiercely with electricity, and the gang eyed it nervously.

"I remember seeing those last time," Spyro interrupted, before anyone could question Cynder's outburst. He looked worried. "When we went near them, strange creatures came out of them—like spiders with legs made of electricity."

"Spiders?" Saffron hissed, the colour draining from her face.

"Conduits," Cynder corrected, glaring at the crackling device. "They're not alive—just defensive mechanisms programmed to attack intruders. There shouldn't be any if this place is deserted, but it never hurts to tread carefully. Don't get too close to it."

Following Cynder's lead, the group of dragons slunk past the crackling device, keeping close to the opposite wall and shrinking against the floor. They made their way into a larger hall, from which numerous corridors led in different directions. At first it seemed as though they had made it past the Conduit-device without trouble, until a loud, wailing alarm cut through the silence. The group spun around.

Sparx hovered frozen in the air, the last to exit the corridor, and a reddish beam of light from the device was now pointed straight at him. The dragonfly offered a sheepish grin.

"My bad."

With an angry crackle, reddish-pink electricity arced from the wailing device, spreading out across the wall like the legs of a giant, electric arachnid. A round, bluish, glass-like body about as wide as Cynder was tall flashed into existence in the middle of the electric tendrils. With a yelp of fright, Sparx shot behind Spyro. The newly formed Conduit dropped from the wall, landing on legs formed of pinkish electricity, orb-like body bouncing in the centre. With the grace of a spider, it began to crawl towards the stunned group of dragons.

A growl echoed in Spyro's throat and he lurched forward before anyone else could do anything. Green energy pooled in the back of his throat and was expelled from his mouth with a deafening _bang_. The earth shot struck the Conduit dead centre, and it was tossed off its electrified legs and into the wall behind it. It fell to the ground with a nasty crunching sound, only to pick itself back up again.

_Bang._

Another earth shot slammed it against the wall again, and thin cracks began to spider-web across the surface of its glass-like body. Baring his teeth, Spyro stalked forward and hit it with a third earth shot. It hit the wall, sending a large crack rippling down the middle of its body, and collapsed to the floor where it disappeared in a flash of light.

"Let's keep moving," Spyro said, turning back to the surprised group. "If we linger too long, it'll only spawn more of them."

The others parted to let him through and turned to follow, some casting nervous glances back at the Conduit-spawning device. It remained crackling angrily, but no more of the strange, spider-like creatures appeared. Flame pushed past Kazan and Zannak to walk at Spyro's side, ignoring their grumbles of protest.

"I haven't seen you that ruthless in a long time," he said with a wry sort of smirk. "Got something against those things, or what?"

Spyro shook his head stiffly and didn't answer. Sparx hovered down to whisper in Flame's ear. "I think this place gives him the creeps. Who can blame him? Ooh, can you see my Goosebumps?"

Flame rolled his eyes and ignored the twiggy yellow arm Sparx was waving in his face. Resigned to the fact that Spyro didn't seem like he wanted to talk, the red dragon dropped back again, but kept a wary eye on the purple dragon's back. With Spyro and Cynder in the lead, they passed across the large hall and continued down a corridor on the right.

This corridor proved to be a shorter one, cutting off to the left after only a short distance. Cynder tried to keep half an eye on her friends, and the rest on her surroundings, just in case they ran across any more dangerous defence mechanisms. But keeping attention proved harder than she expected, especially when she found herself subjected to strange bouts of dizziness in which the world seemed to drop away around her and she felt like she was dreaming.

She remembered things in these times. Apes; Dreadwings; giving orders; insufferable explosions of anger; and the silky, acidic feeling that she could only describe as malice—why did those feelings return to her now? Was she walking in the shadow of her past, stepping on the shattered remains of memories left behind when she had abandoned this place? Maybe there were shades of her—parts of her she'd long given up—still walking these halls.

Her steps faltered unbidden halfway down the corridor when an image transposed itself onto her mind. There was an ape standing in this very corridor, down on his knees, begging for mercy after he'd delivered a piece of most unwelcome news. Terror filled his eyes as he gazed up at her.

'…_already on his way to Munitions Forge… freed the other guardians before we could dispose of them… going after the Earth guardian…_'

'_Incompetent fools! I'll deal with him myself!'_

'_M-mistress Cynder, p-please, have mercy…! I'm j-just the mes—!"_

_Her tailblade sliced through his jugular before he had a chance to finish his sentence, and his last words trailed off with a wet gurgle. Silently, the unfortunate ape toppled over and convulsed on the floor for a moment before going still. Cynder wrenched her blade from his neck and turned away from his body without another glance._

"Cynder?"

Cynder's head shot up with a gasp and she turned to find Ember staring at her. Most of her friends had stopped around her, and she realised she had unconsciously halted in the middle of the corridor.

"Sorry," she said quickly before Ember had a chance to question her. "I just… Lost in thought. Let's keep moving."

Blinking away the horrible memories, Cynder set her eyes straight ahead and saw Spyro was almost at the end of the corridor. Evidently, he and Sparx had not noticed the rest of them had stopped. Cynder took one step towards them and froze.

Either side of the end of the corridor, two metal panels ran parallel to each other up the walls. They were each about as wide as one of her legs and perforated with small circular indents—each about the size of her paw—at regular intervals along the length from floor to ceiling. At first glance they looked harmless—at least to someone who didn't know what they were. Cynder saw the indents start to glow the instant Spyro set paw between the panels.

"Get down!" she shrieked, sprinting along the length of the corridor.

She struck Spyro from behind, sending them both sprawling at the base of the far wall where the corridor cut sharply to the left. With a sound of hissing electricity, reddish-pink bars of light flashed into existence across the space between the two metal panels.

Shouts of alarm and confusion reached them from afar, and Cynder extracted herself from Spyro in time to scream, "Stay back!"

Flame skidded to a halt inches from the glowing red bars, flaring his wings out to halt the others. One glance at Cynder's terrified eyes was all they needed to come to a standstill. Sparx hovered nervously beside his groaning brother, having shot away when Cynder had tackled Spyro—the newly appeared bars of red light had missed him by inches.

"What…what the heck are they?" Flame asked, stepping back when he felt the heat emanating from the horizontal bars. Cynder approached from the other side and met his eyes through the narrow gaps between them.

"Another defence mechanism," she said, scowling. "It should have been deactivated a long time ago. If it's still operating, that means someone—or some_thing_—smart enough to use it is still living here."

"Yeah, but what _is_ it?" Flame asked impatiently, gesturing to the wall of bars that separated them. "Is that electricity?"

"Yes, partly," Cynder murmured. "I wouldn't say it's any of the elements—at least, not in a pure form—but if I had to choose one, it would be electricity. Don't touch it. It's enough to sever a full-grown ape in two—trust me, I've seen it. I'd hate to think what it could do to us."

The dragons behind Flame exchanged nervous glances and Ember spoke up. "But…how do we get to you, then? Is there a way to turn it off?"

"Not here," Cynder shook her head. "You're going to have to turn around and find another way. This place is like a maze—corridors do connect in multiple places. I'm sure we'll find each other again."

"You're saying we should split up?" Flame asked incredulously. "In a place _this_ dangerous?"

"I don't think we have a choice," Saffron muttered behind him.

"Unless you wanna try crawling through those tiny gaps without being sliced into pieces," Kazan pointed out, earning himself a glare from Flame.

Cynder looked worried. "I'm sorry. I should have seen this coming and warned you all. Do you remember the way we came? It might be best for you to return to the main foyer and wait for us. Spyro and I can take it from here."

"You're kidding," Flame and Kazan exclaimed at the same time, and then glared at each other.

"I'm not," Cynder said grimly. "If we've run into this much trouble already, the upper levels are bound to be even more dangerous. _Trust_ me. I know this place better than any of you. Without Spyro and me to guide you, you could easily get lost—not to mention killed."

"Cynder's right," Spyro interrupted, finally on his feet. He'd hit his head on the wall when Cynder had tackled him, and he still looked slightly dazed. Sparx hid a smirk at the slightly crossed appearance of his eyes.

"I've fought my way through here once before without knowing the way and it wasn't pleasant," Spyro continued, blinking his eyes back into focus. "Whatever's living here doesn't want us here—maybe it's even watching us. The best thing you can do right now is get out of here and wait for us to get back to you."

"Yeah, leave it to the golden trio!" Sparx piped up, punching a fist in the air. "We'll do whatever the heck we're supposed to be doing here and be out of here in no time! Dragonfly's honour."

"We can't just wait around and do _nothing_," Saffron argued. Ember nodded, and Flame and Kazan raised their voices in agreement.

"There's little else you _can_ do," Cynder replied, shaking her head apologetically. "I'm the only one who knows where to go. You'd only be putting yourselves in danger unnecessarily."

"Please," Spyro added, and nobody missed the note of begging in his voice. He gazed imploringly through the humming bars of electricity that separated him from his friends. "Just get out of here. Don't put yourselves in danger because of us."

Flame's jaw tightened and he glanced back at the others. Saffron wavered undecidedly, and Ember looked almost guiltily away, as though Spyro's words had been an accusation. Roku looked as stoic as ever, and Flame had a feeling he was ready to talk them all into following Spyro's advice. Nadi's expression was unreadable, as though he was purposefully keeping his emotions a secret—Flame couldn't imagine why. Finally he glanced at Kazan and Zannak, who had met each other's eyes and were looking mutinous. Flame sighed.

"Alright, fine," he muttered, "we'll go back. Just…don't go getting yourselves killed, okay?"

Spyro nodded stiffly, looking relieved. "We won't."

"Take care of yourselves," Cynder said, and Sparx offered them a thumbs-up.

"Just one condition," Flame added suddenly, stopping them before they could turn away. His eyes darkened grimly. "If you're not back in an hour, we're coming in after you. Got it?"

Cynder searched his face and saw only determination—and perhaps a shred of worry. Her eyes softened ever so slightly and she replied with a hesitant nod.

"See you soon," was all she said before she turned away. Spyro gave them all one last glance before he turned to follow Cynder, Sparx at his side.

Flame watched them disappear around the corner, an icy ball of worry forming in his gut. His friends were silent around him, and he realised they were all waiting for someone to step up and lead them. Spurred on by his own determination, Flame did so before Roku had a chance.

"Let's go," he said, turning away from the humming electric bars. "No use standing here for an hour."

No one argued. Not even Kazan. Flame couldn't hide a smirk.

* * *

In the minutes that followed their departure from the others, an awkward silence reigned over Spyro and Cynder. It was broken only by the occasional quips from Sparx, who flew ahead of them and kept announcing, in slightly different words each time, "This place is as creepy as it I remember it."

Cynder found that, as long as she kept her eyes on Spyro, the strange visions that plagued her became less frequent and far less vibrant. The unpleasant memories became a hazy buzzing in the back of her head that she tried valiantly to ignore, keeping her eyes focused on purple scales. They passed through with no trouble for the next two corridors, slipping past Conduit devices like shadows. It gave Cynder a chance to examine Spyro and keep her mind off her own troubling thoughts.

He walked with his shoulders hunched and tensed, his wings half-furled as though ready to snap out and take flight at any moment—despite the fact that they were indoors. She could only see half his face from his angle, but the intense furrow of his brow was enough to worry her. Not a word or sound slipped past his tightened jaw.

"Hey, guys?" Sparx called back from the end of the corridor. "I think we might be in a bit of trouble."

"What is it?" Cynder asked sharply, tearing her eyes away from Spyro and picking up the pace. She reached Sparx in seconds and found him staring down into the wide hall below. The open mouth of the corridor was set at least two meters above the floor, directly in line with a round platform raised about half as high.

Sparx, however, was looking at the several Conduit devices set around the walls of the wide hall. There was one above each of the five corridors branching off from the hall, including the one they were currently standing in. Cynder craned her head up to look just as Spyro joined them.

"I could slip past these using shadow," she mused, "but that wouldn't help you two. We're just going to have to fight our way through."

"Ooh, wonderful." Sparx shivered and rubbed his arms. "Do we at least know which way we're going next?"

Cynder peered across the expansive hall, noticing that two of the corridors were blocked off by black metal gates. The other two were open, but all of Cynder's instincts—where they instincts, or was it something more?—were pointing to the left-most corridor. A corridor blocked by one of those infernal gates. Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't think we'll be moving on before we take out those devices."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I don't kid, Sparx."

"Oiii…why did I get stuck with you?"

"We've done it before, Sparx," Spyro interrupted, his voice unusually soft and contemplative.

"And I'd rather not do it again, thank you very much."

Spyro sighed and stepped to the end of the corridor, preparing to leap to the platform ahead. Cynder stopped him with a paw on his shoulder.

"On my count," she said. "We'll jump out together, turn around, and take this one out. Got it?"

Spyro replied with a stiff nod. Sparx hung back.

"Yeah, you go first," he said, grinning weakly.

Cynder's paws left the ground first, and she leapt the gap between corridor and platform with deadly grace. The instant her claws touched the hard stone of the platform, she twisted her body around and aimed for the Conduit device above the corridor's mouth. She felt rather than saw Spyro do the same, his wing brushing hers as he twisted in synchrony. The hissing glob of acid she spat was a fraction of a second slower than his earth missile, and the device disappeared in a miniature explosion of dirt and poison.

But not before a Conduit dropped from the device and landed at the base of the platform between them and the corridor.

Sparx squealed and shot deeper into the corridor. On electric legs, the spider-like creature rose to the platform's height, only to be met by a piercing shriek. Cynder's teeth flashed red as the fear scream resonated from deep in her throat, turning the Conduit rigid. It only lasted a few seconds, but that was more than enough time for Spyro to figure an icicle straight through its glass-like body at point-blank range.

The Conduit crackled and fell, disappearing with a nasty crunch and a flash of light. Above them, the broken device crackled and was silent.

"Good work," Cynder said, sitting back as Sparx flew hesitantly out to meet them. "If we keep working together like that, we should be able to destroy the devices before they spawn too many of them."

"Let's do it," Spyro replied grimly, leaping down off the platform. Cynder followed his example, with Sparx sticking close to her horns.

"Might want to keep your distance," she said to the dragonfly with a rather nasty grin. Sparx wavered slightly, but quickly replaced the nervous look on his face with a smirk.

"Yeah, you do smell pretty bad."

Taken aback by the unexpected retort, Cynder merely gnashed her teeth and looked away. Sparx grinned. Spyro hesitated near the centre of the hall, his posture one of tension as he looked between the four corridors presented to them.

"Which way, Cynder?" he asked in a low voice. "It looks like two of them are blocked off."

"I know, but something's telling me we need to go _that_ way," she pointed with a claw at one of the gated corridors. "These gates were always wired to open when the Conduit devices were deactivated, at least when I lived here. Destroying them is the only way I know of doing that right now."

Spyro opened his wings, "Then I guess that's what we'll do. I'll watch your back if you watch mine."

Cynder smirked, a thrill of adrenaline suddenly rippling through her body. She passed the purple dragon a look, admiring his action-ready stance and the muscles moving under his violet scales. "Just like old times, Spyro."

He faltered, turning an almost surprised glance her way. A moment later, he nodded. "Just like old times."

"Hey, I'm here too, y'know," Sparx pointed out.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Cynder muttered through gritted teeth.

A few steps closer to their intended corridor was all it took to set the devices off. With angry crackles of red electricity, two Conduits spawned simultaneously and dropped to the ground between the dragons and their escape route. Cynder snarled and lowered her body to the ground, tail lashing like a viper. Smoke curled from between Spyro's jaws.

"On second thought, I'm _not_ here." With a nervous laugh, Sparx turned around and shot in the opposite direction. Cynder didn't bother turning around to see where he had gone.

With almost identical snarls, the two dragons hurled themselves at the spider-like defence mechanisms. One smashed into the ground under the force of a concentrated blast of wind, and the other scrambled to and fro desperately when a burst of fire engulfed its body. The Conduit lurched through the flames, lashing out with an electrified leg that caught Spyro a glancing blow to the side. He cried out in wordless pain as the shock rippled through his wing and foreleg, tossing him to the floor.

"Back!" Cynder snapped, blasting the Conduit away with another gust of wind. It bounced across the ground and came to a stop, but not before the other reached out and curled one of its electric tendrils around Cynder's midsection. Her scream of pain echoed alarmingly in the hall.

"Get off her!" Spyro yelled, scrambling upright and firing a stone bullet. It only skimmed the Conduit's round body, but it was enough to make it release Cynder. She staggered and spun around, spitting a concentrated clump of acid in almost the same moment. The Conduit uttered a high-pitched squeal and crumpled as the acid ate through its glassy body.

Almost immediately after it disappeared in a flash of light, another began to spawn from the nearby device. Cynder spun to face Spyro.

"Get the devices!" she yelled. "I'll take these two! Otherwise there'll be no end to this!"

Spyro hesitated for a split second, looking from Cynder to the two Conduits, one of which had just recovered from her blast of wind and was making high-pitched whining sounds that reminded him of an alarm.

"But…"

"I can handle myself, Spyro! I know you know that!" she spun away and uttered a fear-imbued scream towards the whining Conduit, as though to illustrate this fact. It froze for a second, then wavered and started crawling forwards again. Spyro bit his lip but turned away regardless.

Smiling grimly, Cynder spun away from the whining Conduit and leapt at the other before it could intercept Spyro. Acid shimmered on her tailblade, and she swung it up and over her head before bringing it down across the Conduit's glass body. It hit the floor with a crunch, and a large crack rippled along the glass where her tailblade had connected. Another blast of acid finished it off.

The device crackled, ready to spawn another, and Spyro's earth missile was just a second too late. Cynder had already turned her back, however, focused instead on the one that was whining ever louder. Sinking into the floor in a pool of shadows, she scooted under the Conduit and erupted upwards, slamming into its body from beneath. Claws of shadow devoured the brittle glass, stopping the Conduit's high-pitched wine for good.

A voltage-charged tendril slammed into her flank without warning, sending ripples of pain through the left side of her body and tossing her across the floor. Cynder groaned and picked herself up to face the newly spawned Conduit. Spyro had just finished destroying one of the devices and was racing toward the other, which was already spawning again. Cynder grit her teeth.

"Is there no end to you?!" she yelled, cracking it against the wall with a cone of wind. It sank to the floor and crawled up again, reaching electric claws towards her. She sank into her shadow again to avoid them, and burst up in front of the Conduit. Spinning in the air, she whipped her tail, blade and all, across its orb-like body. It staggered back and tried to reach her once more, but she dodged the tendrils and shattered its damaged body with a sharp crescent of wind.

Something shattered behind her, followed by the sound of metal scraping on metal, and Cynder turned in time to see Spyro dodge the last of the Conduits. The two devices on this side of the room were broken and smoking.

"The gate's opening!" Spyro yelled, turning around to shatter the Conduit's body with a well-placed stone bullet on the same breath. The devices on the other side of the hall were crackling, no doubt alerted by the commotion.

"Let's go before we have to deal with more of them!"

"Hey, wait for me!" Sparx yelled as the two dragons scampered under the slowly rising gate and hurried into the darkness of the corridor. Another Conduit spawned across the other side of the room, and the dragonfly screamed. Without another word, he shot after his companions.

Spyro and Cynder were giggling when Sparx caught up to them, still pumping with adrenaline from the short but intense fight.

"You could have waited," Sparx grumbled, flying between them. "What if one of those things had got me?!"

Cynder cast him a sly glance. "I'm sure you could have nagged it to death, Sparx."

"Ha ha, very funny. Spyro, remind me again why we saved her? Because it's been over four years and I still can't figure it out."

Spyro smiled gently. "Everyone deserves a chance."

"A chance? Pretty sure we've given her at least five. And she still threatens to eat me!"

"Oh, come off it, Sparx. You wouldn't taste any good, anyway."

"You hear that! She's basically admitting she's thought about it!"

"Keep talking and I'll do more than think about it, foul taste or not."

"Aargh!"

Preoccupied with taunting Sparx, Cynder didn't notice the look on Spyro's face at first until she caught him watching her out of the corner of her eye. He looked almost…relieved, as though a great worry had been lifted off his shoulders. There was fondness in his eyes too, both for her and Sparx. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through her chest.

"Everything alright, Spyro?" she asked, ignoring Sparx for the moment. He folded his arms and pouted.

Looking startled at being caught staring, Spyro stammered an answer. "A-ah, yes! I…I was just…thinking."

He smiled sheepishly. Cynder cocked her head. "About what?"

The faintest hint of a blush touched his cheeks and he looked away. "Us. What we were like back then. Just…right now. It reminded me of that. When it was just the three of us."

"This isn't the nicest place to get to spend some time alone together," Cynder replied wryly, "but I get what you mean. We still make a good team, Spyro. You can't deny that."

"We do."

A comfortable silence enveloped them after that, and Cynder led them down the narrow corridor to the large room at the end. It was largely circular and another elevator lay unassuming in the middle, as though waiting for them. The two dragons stepped into the centre, Sparx between them, and waited in silence as the elevator carried them up several stories. Eventually it ground to a halt and Cynder paused briefly before choosing her next direction.

"I think we're getting close," she said, frowning. "Just a few more floors up."

"Good. The sooner we find whatever the heck it is you're looking for, the sooner we can get out of this dump."

"Sparx may be right," Spyro agreed, glancing behind him nervously. "The sooner we can leave here, the better. Something doesn't feel right."

Cynder, however, wasn't listening. One paw was frozen in the air, halfway from stepping out of the short corridor and into the room beyond. Her eyes were glazed over, gazing blankly into the distance. Neither Sparx nor Spyro could see what she saw.

"_Mistress Cynder, what is it you require?" A large ape bowed respectfully to her, clamping an arm across his chest plate. A group of smaller apes lined up in rows of three stood at attention behind him. There were nine of them, all young soldiers._

"_Ah, Commander, good," Cynder purred, feeling her lips pull back in a dark smile. "I called you here to help me test a new defence mechanism for my fortress. They're called Conduits."_

"_Conduits, Mistress? An intriguing name. How may we be of assistance?"_

"_Oh, I just need to know how…effective they are." With another dark grin, she backed out of the centre of the room and watched with amusement. _

_Dark metal claws sprouted around the confused apes, and beams of red electricity sprang up between them, creating a large ring in the centre of the room. The smaller apes began chattering in alarm when they realised they were fenced in, and some even dropped to the ground when the floor began to shake and rise._

_The ring and its trapped prisoners rose on a shallow platform until it was almost level with Cynder's graceful head. The commander staggered to the edge of the ring, but kept well clear of the electrical beams that entrapped him and his soldiers._

"_What is the meaning of this?!"_

"_Why, you're just helping me with a little test," Cynder said silkily, never losing her smile. The commander paled and backed away._

_One of the soldier apes screamed behind him, and he spun around to see a bizarre-looking creature had appeared in the ring with them. It was vaguely spider-like in appearance, with a round, glassy body, and legs that appeared to be made of red electricity. With a strange, high-pitched wail, it rose up on four of its legs, waving the others in the air, and pounced._

_Cynder laughed as the screams of her apes filled the room._

"Cynder! Cynder?"

Cynder staggered and set her paw down, broken from her reverie by Spyro's voice. She turned to find him staring at her with concern. A weak smile was all she could offer in return.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Perhaps I did," she whispered, more to herself than to him. He frowned, and she said hurriedly, "I'm fine, Spyro. Just a…just a memory."

"Of what?" he asked uncertainly.

"You don't want to know."

Without waiting for him to question her, Cynder strode into the open hall and looked around. There were still grooves in the centre of the hall where the platform would rise and the fence would close in whatever unfortunate creature was standing there. She skirted carefully around it, not daring to tempt fate.

"Stay close to me," she called back to Spyro, "and walk where I do. There's a trap in this room."

Spyro and Sparx exchanged nervous glances and hurried to catch up with her. There were three corridors leading away from this room. The one they'd just come from, one to the left, and one to the right. Cynder led them to the right without a single beat of hesitation. She breathed a sigh of relief when all three of them reached the mouth of the corridor without incident.

With one more glare back at the offending room, she turned and strode away. Spyro kept pace with her.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Cynder said shortly. Glancing at Spyro, she sighed. "That room just brought up bad memories, Spyro. Please don't ask me about it."

Spyro's jaw tightened, a sign of reluctance, but he nodded regardless and kept silent.

"Please tell me we're almost there," Sparx begged, and Cynder smirked.

"Almost. There's another elevator just around this bend, and it should take us to the floor we need. I can feel it."

"Great."

They reached the next elevator without incident, to Cynder's relief, but the moment of peace was not to last. She had hardly placed one paw on the edge of the elevator, when a scream ripped through the otherwise silent corridors. Spyro and Cynder flinched and spun around, leaving Sparx to squeal and duck behind them. Cynder's eyes were wide with alarm.

It was the scream of a dragon. And it was coming—Cynder had no doubt—from the room they'd just left.

* * *

Surprisingly, Flame did just as Spyro and Cynder had ordered, and led the others back down to the foyer. They reached the elevator with little trouble, though they'd had to deal with one Conduit from the device they'd passed earlier. It didn't stand much of a chance against seven dragons, and was all too easily brought down by their combined elements. They hurried on before the device could spawn another, and took the elevator down to the first floor.

Flame sat down near the elevator with a resigned sigh, and the others huddled nearby, looking defeated. A few beats of silence passed, in which no one spoke and everyone wondered how to start a conversation. Finally, Flame stood up.

"Well, this sucks," he muttered. "I'm gonna go explore outside. Might find something useful—or at least something to beat up while we're waiting. Join me if you want."

Almost everyone else stood up too, except for Kazan and Zannak, who had exchanged a brief glance that no one else saw.

"We'll stay in case Spyro and Cynder come back," Kazan drawled, stretching out on his belly. Flame shrugged.

"Suit yourselves."

"Sure you don't need someone to babysit you?" Saffron taunted, grinning. Kazan glowered up at her, but said nothing.

"You're welcome to stay if you want, sis," Zannak said, patting the floor next to him. Saffron made a face.

"No thanks. I'm not one for waiting around." Waving her tailblade cheekily, she turned on her heel and caught up to Roku and Nadi. Flame and Ember had already left together.

"Damn," Zannak said when she was gone. "So close, too. Oh well, better luck next time. Looks like it's just you and me, Kaz. Again."

"You're not really planning on waiting here, are you?" Kazan grunted, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Zannak grinned.

"Heck no."

It was cold outside, Flame mused as he stepped out of the massive double doors to the fortress. Cold enough for snow. But it was just a light drizzle of rain that fell from the dark storm clouds above. Lightning rippled through the darkness every few minutes, followed by the not-so-distant roar of thunder.

"What are we doing out here?" Ember asked, shuffling to his side and pressing against his warm scales. He glanced at her briefly, smirking at the mild pout on her face.

"Looking for something interesting," he said. Glancing around, his eyes focused on the clumps of bluish-grey crystal that covered the majority of the land around the fortress. They reminded him of spirit gems. Almost.

"I wonder what they are," he mumbled to himself. Ember raised her head.

"What what are?"

"The crystals." Flame stalked over to the nearest clump and craned his neck to see the top. It was nearly three times as tall as he was. "Do you think they're like spirit gems?"

"I doubt it," Ember said, grimacing. "They feel so…cold. I mean, I haven't touched one, but…just that feeling when you're near it. Can you feel it?"

"Mm," Flame grunted distractedly, pacing in front of the crystal. With a sudden lurch, he buried his claws in the smooth surface—or tried to. It was even harder than he expected, and if he hadn't braced his hind legs on the ground, he might have been thrown back by the rebound. As it was, the tip of his claws only created tiny white marks in the crystal's smooth surface. Growling, he dragged his claws down with a horrible shrieking sound.

"Don't do that!" Ember protested, wincing at the sound. "Flame! What are you trying to do?"

"Break it! I want to see if it acts like a spirit gem."

"And if it does? I'm not so sure you want to absorb something like that."

Flame grimaced. "You worry too much."

Rearing back, he slammed his paws forward again and was rewarded by a small crack appearing in the crystal. Grinning, he repeated the procedure and began to tear at the gem with his claws. Bit by bit, tiny shards of crystal began to give way. Ember took a step back.

"Flame, please. Stop it. You don't know what it'll do."

Ignoring her, Flame slammed his forepaw forward once again, and with a tremendous _crack_, a jagged shard of crystal about the size of his foreleg went flying. Beneath the bluish-grey exterior shimmered a jet-black, glossy surface of crystal, the likes of which Flame had never seen before. Awed, he reached out a paw to touch it.

"Don't!" Ember yelled. Her words were just a second too late.

Flame gasped as a bizarre, draining sensation swept through his body without warning. It pulled at every hidden corner of his essence, reaching deep into places only he could access, and dragged _something_ out of him, feeding hungrily. It was as though a part of him was being ripped away. Barely a second passed before something slammed into his side and knocked him away, but to Flame it felt like an eternity.

Gasping, he curled in on himself on the cold ground and tried to forget the horrible sensation. Ember stood over him, her paw trembling on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she begged. "What happened? Flame! Speak to me!"

"I…I'm fine…" he gasped, sitting up shakily. He cast the crystal a wary glance and edged further away from it. "That…that thing was…draining me. It was…trying to take something from me."

Ember's cheeks paled slightly. "Take…something?"

A thought struck Flame, and he felt horribly sick all of a sudden. Lurching to his feet, he opened his jaws and tried to expel a burst of fire. All that came out was a cough and a tiny flicker of flame. Staggering, he gasped for air and sat down heavily.

"It was…trying to take my element," he stammered, shaken. "If…if you hadn't pushed me away, it might have taken it completely. Oh…Ancestors…"

Trembling, he curled in on himself and was silent. Ember wasted no time in moving to his side and wrapping her wings around him. She cooed softly in his ear, stroking his scales with a gentle paw.

"You're okay. It didn't take anything. We'll find you some spirit gems and you'll be just fine. I think Spyro had some in his bag."

Flame just swallowed nervously and shook his head, pressing into Ember's embrace. They sat for some time like that until Saffron, Roku and Nadi—who had been sparring not far away and recently grown tired of it—found them there. The sight of Flame reduced to a trembling shell of his former self was enough to worry them.

"What happened?" Saffron asked, aghast.

"He messed with the wrong gem," Ember muttered wryly. She shook her head and replaced her frown with a small smile. "You'd best stay away from those big crystals. Apparently they can drain your elements. I'm sure Flame will be fine once he gets some spirit gems, but the only ones near are in Spyro's bag."

"We should return and wait for him, then," Roku suggested, and his companions agreed readily.

Flame staggered to his feet and refused Ember's offer to support him.

"I can walk fine," he said stiffly. Ember smirked.

"I told you he'd be fine," she whispered to Saffron. "The only thing hurt is his pride."

Although shaken by the incident, Flame valiantly put it out of his mind and led the others back into the fortress. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since they had become separated from Spyro and Cynder, but he estimated it had to have been at least half an hour.

Everyone stopped when they reached the elevator. Silence prevailed at first, preceded by a notion shared by every dragon present—something was obviously, decidedly missing. It was Saffron who breached the quiet.

"Guys… Where are Zannak and Kazan?"

* * *

Cynder sprinted so fast through the corridors her paws scarcely touched the floor, using her tail and wings as rudders to gracefully skirt around corners. Spyro followed with less grace several tail-lengths behind—his slower, loping gait, as well as his tendency to skid on corners, made it nigh impossible to keep pace with the dragoness. Sparx could have easily kept up with Cynder, but he chose instead to fly alongside Spyro, half due to fear of what awaited them in the next room, and half out of devotion to his surrogate brother.

When Cynder skidded to a halt at the entrance to the cavernous room the scream had come from, her worst fears were confirmed. The raised arena had been activated, and a crackling ring of electrical bars now entrapped the unlucky fools that had stumbled into it. The fools, Cynder noticed quickly, were not strangers. Kazan and Zannak stood back to back, surrounded by a veritable throng of Conduits. Their electrified legs all seemed to merge into one and were impossible to count, but Cynder thought she saw at least six bulbous, glass-like bodies.

"Whoa!" Sparx screeched when he and Spyro caught up, skidding to a halt at the sight of the arena that had not been there a few minutes ago. "Where'd that thing come from?"

"_That_," said Cynder through gritted teeth, "is the trap I was talking about earlier. Those _idiots_! What are they doing here?"

"I don't know, but now isn't the time to be standing here wondering that," Spyro interrupted, moving to her side with a grim look on his face. "We need to help them."

Nodding stiffly, Cynder took in the situation with a glance. The Conduits had formed a net out of their own legs that prevented the two dragons from flying up and escaping the arena. Zannak's wings were flared and he was baring his teeth threateningly, but at his back Kazan was struggling to stay upright. Even from this distance, Cynder could see the marks of electrical burns on his scales. He was panting. Cynder had no doubt the scream had been his.

Flaring her wings, the black dragoness shot upwards towards the roof and halted her ascent moments before she reached it. Angling downwards, she aimed a glob of poison at one of the Conduit's bodies and let fly. With a hiss and a high-pitched whine, the attack collided, pushing the Conduit back against the barrier. Zannak's head shot up.

"H-hey, we found you!" he yelled, his voice strained but excited. Cynder narrowed her eyes.

"You found more than us," she snarled.

A bullet of stone smashed into another Conduit, and it lurched forward to sprawl in front of Kazan. The panting fire dragon lurched backwards in alarm, looking around wildly until he spotted Spyro.

"You'll have time to rest later," the purple dragon called. "Once we get you out of there, that is."

Kazan gritted his teeth. "Got it."

With a snarl, he threw himself on the downed Conduit, tearing into its glass-like body with flaming claws. It shattered in seconds. But before Kazan could celebrate his victory, the enclosing barrier flickered and a new Conduit spawned in front of him, emitting that familiar high-pitched wail. Kazan backed up, mouth open.

"How quickly do these things spawn?" he yelled.

Zannak grunted as he was thrown across the arena by the flailing tendril of another Conduit. His back struck the barrier and he cried out in pain as it burned scars in his scales. Scrambling away from the barrier, the gold dragon slumped on his belly and tried to catch his breath.

"Too…too fast," he gasped out, only to cut himself off with a breathless cry of agony as the tendrils of a Conduit gathered him in their burning grip. Zannak struggled uselessly, his own electricity jumping uselessly from scale to scale.

An icicle pierced through the Conduit's body and Zannak was released unceremoniously. His body struck the floor with a dull thud and for several moments he didn't move. But as the pierced Conduit died, a new flashed into existence to take its place. Spyro's next icicle only grazed the side of its body, and it turned its attention to the prostrate Zannak.

"Get away!" Kazan yelled, ignoring his own burns and planting himself over his friend. His legs trembled but held firm. Without missing a beat, the Conduit slammed its voltage-charged tendril into the fire dragon's head.

"Cynder, they're spawning too fast!" Spyro yelled as Kazan was thrown into the barrier and collapsed with a howl of pain. "There's too many, we need to do something!"

"You're running out of time!" Sparx added unhelpfully, pointing to where Zannak was trying and failing to get up as the Conduits closed in.

Cynder snarled and dove down without giving a response. Her forepaws connected with the body of one Conduit, slamming it into the floor of the arena with a horrible crunching sound. Rolling away from the dying Conduit, Cynder rose to her paws in the middle of the arena and spread her wings. The Conduits paused to consider this new threat, giving the two male dragons time to catch their breath. Cynder didn't stall for long.

Rising from the floor as though lifted by an intangible wind, she curled her paws into her chest and let the shadows consume her. Her eyes dilated and her pupils continued to grow, consuming first the emerald irises and then the whites, until they were nothing more than pools of black surrounded by obsidian scales. Eerie silence filled the room, and then the darkness expanded.

Leaping outwards from her scales, tangible shadows spread coarse fingers through the air, forming into talons and claws that tore relentlessly at those they considered enemies. A choking black mist spread around her, enveloping the entire arena, slowly thickening until those inside were all but invisible. Beneath the dark dragoness pooled a lake of darkness, growing steadily as it dripped from her scales like tar. All those who touched it were consumed, dragged down into the endless embrace of darkness.

The high-pitched cacophony of several Conduits sounding their alarms at once filled the room, but was quickly silenced by shadow. Spyro hovered above, watching in terrified awe as the entire arena disappeared from his sight, lost amongst the choking cloud of darkness. Only for a moment he considered diving down to help, but dashed that thought when he realised there was little he could do. These were Cynder's shadows.

It only lasted a minute, but to those inside the cloud of darkness, that was a minute too long. The cloaking shadows evaporated into wisps and Cynder dropped to the floor, staggering on all fours as the black puddle under her dried up and vanished. She blinked twice and her eyes returned to normal. Gasping for breath, Zannak and Kazan slowly sat up.

"What…the heck was that?" Kazan said breathlessly. Zannak, on the other hand, was gazing in awe at the empty arena. The Conduits were gone.

"A shadow fury," Cynder grunted, her wings drooping from exertion. "I haven't had to use one for a long time."

Before either of the males could answer, the platform they were on groaned and sank into the floor. The barrier flickered and died, electricity flickering out as the claw-like pillars sank back into the floor from whence they had come. Moments later, the room looked just like it had when Spyro and Cynder had passed through previously. There was no trace of the trap arena at all, save the nigh-invisible grooves on the floor.

Spyro landed and hurried over, nuzzling Cynder first to assure himself she was not hurt. The black dragoness purred softly and nipped at the base of his horn.

"I'm fine, Spyro," she said, even though he hadn't asked. The purple dragon couldn't a tiny, sheepish smile.

"Am I that transparent? I haven't seen you use a fury since…well, since the war."

"I preferred it when there was no need for them," she remarked dryly. Turning around, she glared at Kazan and Zannak, both of whom were still getting to their feet.

"Good…good work, everybody," Sparx said, flying in when he deduced there was no more danger. "Um, swell job and all that. Cynder, remind me not to get on your bad side."

Cynder passed him a good-natured glare, "Hasn't stopped you before."

"Yeah, well, maybe I forgot about your creepy shadow powers. Yeesh."

Shaking her head, Cynder fixed a far more serious glare on the battered dragons in front of her. Zannak wilted slightly, a nervous grin splitting his muzzle.

"So, uh…surprise?"

Kazan slapped a paw to his own face.

"_Surprise_," Cynder hissed back, "you almost got yourselves _killed_. I'm sure that was a nice surprise for you both."

"Well, that wasn't exactly part of the plan…" Zannak mumbled, rubbing his muzzle sheepishly. He sat up straighter and winced as the burns on his back were stretched.

"Why did you follow us?" Spyro asked grimly. "We told you to wait."

"Did you really think we were gonna wait around like wimps while you guys did all the work?" Kazan snapped suddenly, wings twitching. "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not one for sitting around and being useless!"

"And what made you think you would be any help to us?" Cynder snarled back, stepped forward and thrusting her muzzle in his face. "You don't know this place like we do, and if we hadn't heard your scream, you'd likely be dead by now! If anything, you've caused us more trouble than we need!"

"How were we supposed to know about the trap?! We—!"

"Exactly! You _don't_ know! You don't know anything about this place! You were only putting yourselves in danger! We _told_ you—!"

"I'm tired of this!" Kazan screamed, cutting off Cynder in turn. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm not needed!"

He shot a glance at Zannak. "I'm tired of feeling like _we're_ not needed. What are we doing here? What are any of us doing here?! There's a war going on back home and we're out here in the middle of nowhere chasing dreams and the words of a crazy old dragon most of us don't even know! Maybe _you_ understand, but what about us? If you don't need our help, then why did you ask us to come along in the first place?!"

Cynder faltered and stepped back, momentarily silenced by Kazan's outburst. The fire dragon snorted smoke and fell silent, chest heaving as he awaited her answer. Zannak remained tight-lipped.

"Do you really feel that way?" Spyro asked quietly, and Cynder glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Do you really…feel like you shouldn't be here?"

Kazan scowled. "I'm starting to. Everything has been getting more confusing by the day. I feel like we're following you for no reason, like we're useless tag-alongs you can't shake off."

"All we wanted was to prove that we can be useful," Zannak mumbled.

Spyro looked from one to the other, stricken. "I… Did I…never make it clear to everyone just how much your presence means to me? Did I never tell you just how helpful you've been so far…and how much I still rely on you? Did…did I never…?"

"If you did, I didn't hear it," Kazan muttered bitterly. "All I hear is 'Why did you follow us? You're going to get yourselves killed. What makes you think you can help us?' Yeah. That's appreciation."

Cynder's jaw tightened at his blatant sarcasm. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Zannak asked tiredly, a shadow of his former, good-natured self. Cynder hesitated, opening and closing her mouth several times, unable to find an answer. Eventually, she just averted her eyes, unable to face them.

"You know," Kazan said when silence had prevailed for several moments, "we were all pretty excited when you asked us to come with you to see the Chronicler. I mean, we'd only just started to get to know you—the famous purple dragon and Malefor's ex-second-in-command, heroes of the realms—and already you were giving us such an opportunity. Adventure, excitement, heroism! Yeah. That's what we expected when we signed up."

He looked from Spyro's stricken face to Cynder's averted eyes. "Not this. We've already lost a friend. We've experienced things we never expected to experience—horrible things; things that have changed us. We've made sacrifices, deserted our home on the brink of a war, travelled to places few dragons have gone to before—and for what? Why us?"

His voice hardened. "You saved the world on your own. You were younger then—less experienced. And you still defeated the greatest menace the Dragon Realms have ever known. So why'd you ask us to come with you this time? Why should you need us now, if you never needed anyone then?"

Silence answered this speech, and slowly Kazan's limbs began to shake. His voice was choked with emotion when he yelled his next words.

"I need to know why we're here! I need to know if there's any reason for us to stay!"

"Why are we here?" Zannak asked quietly, strangely calm. "That's all we need to know."

"Because you're friends," Cynder sighed, the answer coming quicker than both Zannak and Kazan had expected. "And we always need friends."

She glanced at Spyro, who seemed frozen in a state of despair after hearing Kazan's tirade. "Spyro and I fought Malefor alone because there was no one else who could. We never had a chance to make bonds with anyone else willing to stand beside us—to fight beside us. We managed, because we had to. We fought alone, because there was no one else to rely on."

Her eyes met Kazan's, blazing with conviction. "But there is only so far two dragons can go with only each other to rely on! Maybe we could manage, but if one of us fell…the other would fall too. In dark times like these, we need friends to rely on—friends who will hold each other up when the going gets tough. There is strength in numbers."

"For the first time, Spyro and I have felt what it's like to have friends—for the first time, we have others to rely on when our own spirits fail. We need that. Everyone needs that. It's a subtle strength…sometimes you don't always realise it's there. But we're always relying on each other—to fight beside us, to believe in us, to share wisdom, strength and loyalty, and to never give up on us even when the rest of the world does."

"We need you," her voice was plaintive and honest, and left no room for question. Kazan shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"So, if you need us, why did you try to make us stay behind?" he muttered.

Cynder smirked, "Because I knew fools like you would probably get yourselves hurt. I…wanted to prevent that. Even if it meant…"

"…jeopardising our own safety," Spyro finished, blinking out of his reverie at last. He smiled gratefully at Cynder. "We just didn't want you to get hurt."

Kazan stared from one to the other, incredulous, as though trying to root out a lie. Suddenly, Zannak let out a bark of laughter.

"Didn't you think maybe we felt the same way about you?" the gold dragon asked, shaking his head and grinning.

"I don't see what's so funny," Kazan grumbled.

"Don't you?" Zannak grinned again. "This is all just a stupid misunderstanding. You're not really angry with us. You're angry because we almost got hurt—because we came after you."

"I suppose…I am," Cynder said, smirking. The smirk dropped off her face almost instantly. "I would never forgive myself if something happened to my friends because of me."

"Neither would I…" Spyro mumbled, shifting to her side.

"And we wouldn't be happy with ourselves if we let you guys get hurt to protect us," Zannak pointed out. "It…kinda works both ways."

Kazan gritted his teeth. "Well, so what if that was what it was like this time? We've still felt unneeded ever since we left the White Isle! And _you've_ been keeping stuff from us! We don't even know what we're doing here!"

"I suppose we do owe some explanations," Spyro mused, looking sheepish.

"To everyone," Cynder added grimly. "But first we need to finish up what needs to be done here. We've wasted enough time already."

"And I suppose you're going to send us back after we spent all that time trying to track you down," Kazan grumbled.

"No," Cynder said, "you're coming with us. Both of you."

Zannak and Kazan exchanged incredulous grins. "Seriously?"

"I'm not one to turn willing help away." Cynder strode past them with a flick on her tail, moving towards the exit.

The red and gold dragons smirked at each other and joined Spyro as he trailed after Cynder, Sparx hovering ahead. The purple dragon shot them a curious look.

"How did you manage to find us, anyway?"

"Stroke of luck. This place is huge! Although, you guys were making a lot of noise. We could hear you from a few floors below. Wasn't that hard."

"Right. And only you two decided to follow us?"

"We kind of snuck away."

"Flame's gonna be pissed."

"Isn't he always?"

* * *

The elevator carried them two more floors up without incident. Kazan had calmed down since his outburst, but a grimace remained on his face—no doubt thanks to the electrical burns that were still very raw and painful. Zannak, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten he was injured and was the first off the elevator the instant it stopped moving. He danced ahead of the others, only to stop when he realised he didn't know the way.

Cynder hesitated for a brief moment once she stepped off the elevator. Her eyes swept over the dark room, seeking out the five corridors that branched off in different directions. There were no windows this far into the fortress, and only the reddish-purple crystals around the elevator gave off light.

"Don't tell me we're lost," Sparx groaned when Cynder made no move to pick a path. The black dragoness frowned.

"This is strange… I feel like whatever was guiding me has disappeared." She turned her head and glared at her satchel, as though the Claws within were to blame.

"Just great," Sparx grumbled. "Why do the voices in your head always disappear at the moment inopportune moments?"

Cynder rolled her eyes.

"Can…anyone else hear that?"

Spyro's nervous voice drew four sets of eyes towards him instantly. Kazan and Zannak exchanged confused glances and Sparx cupped a hand to the side of his head as though listening. Cynder frowned.

"Hear what?"

"I can't hear anything," Kazan muttered.

Spyro looked vaguely disturbed, shifting from paw to paw, his eyes raking the room intently. "You…really can't hear it?"

"What?" Cynder repeated, looking edgy herself. Spyro's strange behaviour made the scales on the back of her neck prickle and spooked her more than she cared to admit.

"Voices…" Spyro mumbled. "Whispering. Or maybe it's just one voice… It sounds so far away…so weak."

A shiver rippled down Cynder's spine. "What is it saying?"

Spyro shook his head, listening. Seconds later, he spoke almost tonelessly. "Help me. It hurts. I can't… Please help me. Make it stop. It hurts."

The prickling feeling in her scales grew worse with every word Spyro spoke. His eyes seemed distant, as though he was gazing at things far away that only he could see. A frown marred his face.

"No…there's two voices. I can…hear someone else."

Cynder was almost afraid to ask. "And?"

"You're fine. You're strong. You'll be okay. I'm here." Spyro's voice trembled. "…They're coming. I've brought them here. You'll be okay. They're coming."

"Who's coming?" Kazan asked in a hushed voice. He and Zannak were staring at Spyro as though he was foretelling the end of the world, and his cheeks were noticeably paler than usual.

"I…I don't know," Spyro stammered, shuddering. His eyes flickered from one side of the dark room to the other, as though desperately seeking the owner of the whispering voices. But there was no one else to be seen.

Cynder was just wracking her brains for something to say to calm everyone's nerves, when her satchel gave an almighty jerk. It pulled her foreleg out from under her and sent her staggering towards one of the corridors. An intense sensation seized her mind, luring her uncontrollably forward. With a gasp of shock, she broke into a run.

"This way!" Cynder yelled over her shoulder without stopping. The boys cried after her, but she didn't stop to see if they were following.

On swift feet she powered through the corridors, following the unexplainable pull closer and closer to wherever it was leading her. They were close now. She could feel it. The corridors were eerily quiet and icy cold in this part of the fortress, and lines of red electrical piping in the roof cast meagre illumination. Cynder realised where she was even before the first empty cell came into view.

"Are these prison cells?" she heard Kazan yell from several metres behind her.

"Dunno what else they could be," was Zannak's breathless reply.

Just as Cynder's legs were starting to burn from her prolonged sprint, she felt the pull on her mind loosen and something gave her the urge to stop. Skidding to a halt, she padded slowly past empty cell after empty cell until she came to a corridor that branched off to the left. Turning the corner, she froze motionless.

Empty cells lined the walls of this side corridor, which led to another cell-lined corridor that ran parallel to the one she had just turned out of. Her eyes trained on the cell directly in line with her path of vision, right at the end of this corridor. The pale shape slumped within was unmistakable, even from this distance.

Without waiting for the others, Cynder broke into a run. Her paw steps slowed when she neared the end of the corridor, and she glanced cautiously both ways before stepping up to the bars of the cell. The pale dragon within made no sign of movement, save for the shallow rise and fall of his ribs as he breathed.

"Cynder!" Spyro called, and Cynder half-turned to see him hurrying down the corridor with Kazan and Zannak at his side.

"What did you find?" the purple dragon called.

Wordlessly, Cynder stepped aside.

Spyro skidded to an ungraceful halt before he reached the cell, his eyes trained on the pale dragon behind the bars. He was familiar. Too familiar. The pale scales, the curve of his silvery-white horns, the angular shape of his muzzle. His eyes were hidden behind pale eyelids, but even without their icy colour to jog his memory, Spyro knew who he was looking at. A vague spinning feeling made his eyes blur, and he felt a brief sensation of falling before Cynder's shoulder pressed warmly against his and stopped him from collapsing.

"Spyro?"

He shook his head at the sound of her voice and tried to untangle his web of thoughts that had suddenly seized up into an incomprehensible jumble of confusion. But all he could see was that dragon—that all too familiar dragon—lying limp but very much alive on the cell floor. He spoke the name without even thinking.

"Alta?"

* * *

**A/N:**

**:D**

**So...stuff. I'm not sure when I'll have the chance to write again, because stuff is happening these next few weeks, and then I'm going back to uni in early March. D: Add to that this other project my dear GoldenGriffiness and I are working on, and you may be looking at longer than a month between updates... Buuut, we'll see.**

**As always, thank you all so very muchly for reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Heck, I hope you've enjoyed the whole story and will continue to do so. :P Also, there's a random poll on my profile that has nothing to do with anything except my own curiosity, but if you feel like voting, I'd much appreciate it. :3**

**On that note... Bye for now, dearies! Thanks for reading and see you in chapter 33, whenever that may be~ :D**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Surpriiiiise~! So, if you've checked my profile some time in the last...month or so, you might have noticed a few things. One, I'm writing a new Spyro story. Two, this story is (or was) on hold. Well, for some reason it decided it didn't want to be on hold any more, so I wrote this chapter. xD Go on, have fun~**

**33.**

Like a ripple of wind, a shudder passed over the pale dragon's body and he twitched from his slumber. His legs shifted from underneath him and he winced involuntarily, as though subjected to a sudden bout of pain. Eyes opened and trailed upwards, locking onto the stunned face of a purple dragon. Spyro swallowed the lump in his throat.

They were not the familiar ice-blue eyes he had expected. Instead, they were the colour of muted leaves, a faded but handsome green. A closer look confirmed his scales were not dull grey but white, and his horns not ivory but silver. The tip of his tail was bladeless, the bearer of no deadly weaponry.

"You're not…"

"Get out of here!" the white dragon yelled, cutting Spyro off without warning and causing all four dragons on the other side of the bars to jump. He lurched to his feet, perhaps on instinct, and the expression of utmost pain that crossed his face suggested he regretted the movement instantly. With a silent gasp of agony, he collapsed in a heap once more.

Spyro stared, his mouth half-open, but Cynder had spotted something the others had not seen.

"Stay still," she told the imprisoned dragon sharply. "You'll only make it worse."

"Make what worse?" Kazan asked.

Cynder gestured to the prisoner's legs, drawing everyone's gazes to something they had not noticed before. Around his ankles were clamped iron-grey manacles, marked with strange, spiky symbols that pulsed faintly with reddish-pink light. The glow dimmed slowly as the white dragon fell still again, but for the ragged rise and fall of his chest.

"See it? I helped the apes develop those manacles years ago. They were reserved for prisoners. The electric pulse is weak, but painful. It strengthens when it senses movement. The best thing to do is remain as still as possible and wait for your captors to decide what they're going to do with you. I've…watched dragons die from prolonged exposure to those manacles." A faint shudder passed over her form.

"I don't care," the white dragon gasped, but he kept utterly still all the same. "You shouldn't be here. Especially him. Please, leave. Before they realise…"

His eyes flickered to Spyro as he spoke, and the purple dragon frowned. "You're him, aren't you? Alta's brother?"

Brief anguish flickered in his olive-green eyes, but vanished in a second. "Please. Go away. I don't know how you found your way here, but I refuse to be responsible for…"

"Hey, you might as well save your breath, buddy," Sparx piped up, "Spyro here never leaves anyone behind. Man, you should have been there that one time in that creepy purple place with the weird space whales…"

"I said go!"

"Hey! No need to yell…"

Brushing Sparx aside, Spyro fixed the prisoner with a curious stare. "Why are you so intent on getting rid of us? We can get you out of there."

"Out of a prison cell, maybe," said the dragon, "but out of this fortress? If you linger too long, none of you will be leaving."

"Then we'd better not waste any more time," Cynder cut in. Her eyes scanned the iron bars briefly, and then fell on the large lock clamping the cell door shut. She glanced from the keyhole to Sparx and back again, a sudden idea glinting in her eyes. "These bars are element proof—trust me, I know—but I think I know a way to get the door open. Sparx, how good are you with small dark holes?"

"Why do I feel like that's a trick question?" the dragonfly folded his arms, squinting suspiciously at the black dragoness. She rolled her eyes.

"All I need you to do is squeeze into that lock and see if you can pull the catch."

Sparx stared at the large keyhole, which was roughly half the size he was. "You want me to squeeze in there? I mean, I know I've got a handsome figure, but jeez…"

"It's worth a try, Sparx," Spyro agreed with a half-hearted smirk. "You've probably squeezed into tighter places before."

"Yeah, and at least I'm not fat like you." Sparx sighed and flexed his tiny muscles, hovering closer to the keyhole. "So this is why mum always told me to keep a trim figure…"

"Why are you doing this?" the white dragon groaned, shifting a leg slightly and wincing as a result. "Just leave. They'll be here any second…"

Sparx squinted and peered into the widest part of the keyhole, well aware of the five pairs of watching eyes. He stuck one hand gingerly into the darkness and felt around for a moment, an intense look of concentration on his face. Shaking his head, he withdrew his hand momentarily before sticking both hands in at once. This was soon followed by his head, which barely fit. Zannak had to bite his tongue to stop himself laughing.

Seconds ticked by slowly with Sparx half stuck in the lock, his wings buzzing frantically and a string of muffled mumbling sounds emanating from somewhere inside. Those seconds turned to minutes, and the dragons began to shift edgily. The white dragon stared at them pleadingly from behind the bars, but he seemed to have given up convincing them to leave.

At last, a heavy click echoed from inside the padlock, and Sparx pulled himself out with some difficulty. He head stuck for a moment before it pulled free with a quiet 'pop', causing his antennae to sway violently.

"Ta-da," Sparx sang, rubbing his head ruefully with one hand as he pushed the cell door open with the other. It creaked slightly under his miniscule strength, and it took a swift push from Cynder's paw to open it all the way.

"Nicely done," she said. Half a second later, she added slyly, "For once."

Sparx's glare went unnoticed as Cynder slipped into the cell. The white dragon didn't seem to have the heart to pull away from her as she leaned closer to examine the manacles.

"Can you get them off?" he asked in a tired voice.

Wordlessly, Cynder extended a paw to the first manacle. Her eyes closed, and for a moment nothing happened. Had the dragons looked closer, however, they might have noticed the nigh-invisible wisps of shadow creeping over her claws. The manacle opened with a snap and dropped from the prisoner's ankle. The other three quickly followed.

"A touch of darkness," Cynder murmured as she stepped away. "I always was the only one who could open them. I suppose I made them that way. No prisoner ever left this fortress without my permission."

The white dragon was on his feet in an instant, only wincing slightly. As he stepped out into the corridor, the numerous old scars, newly-healed wounds and still-healing lacerations that marred his scales became alarmingly apparent. Spyro, Kazan and Zannak stared, but he gave them little chance to inquire.

"Forgive me for the abrupt introductions," he said quickly. "My name is Lumis, and none of you should be here. We need to go now before Orroch learns of your presence. Quickly."

"Who's Orroch?" Spyro inquired as Lumis pushed past him and began to make his way down the corridor. "Wait!"

"Hey!" Sparx called as his four companions hurried to keep up with Lumis. He quickly flitted to Spyro's side. "Why do I feel like this is the moment when the guards are supposed to appear and arrest us?"

"That only happens in stories, Sparx. If there were any guards, they would have apprehended us ages ago," Cynder snorted. She turned a haughty stare on Lumis. "And don't we get a 'thank you' for saving you?"

"You haven't saved me yet," the white dragon said darkly. "I'll reserve my thanks until we're out of this damned fortress."

A softer look replaced the hard glint in his eyes and he glanced back at Cynder. "But thank you for freeing me of those manacles. I can't say how long they've been causing me agony."

"You know, you don't seem anything like that creepy weirdo that's supposed to be your brother," Sparx pointed out, and Lumis's eyebrow twitched. "Er…no offense to him. Or you."

"Alta was neither 'creepy' nor 'weird'… Though I'm not surprised you would view him that way. As for me, there'll be a more suitable time for introductions when we're not—"

"Whoa!"

The group skidded to a halt inches from the wall of electric bars that had flashed into existence right in front of their noses. Lumis, who had been at the head of the group, staggered backwards a few steps. His muzzle had been a millimetre away from being severed by the red-hot lasers.

"Wh…what were you saying again?" Sparx stammered, backing up until he was behind Spyro's horn.

Lumis gritted his teeth. "They're trying to cut us off. Come on."

The white dragon whirled on his heel and barrelled back down the corridor they had come from. The others whirled around to follow, and Cynder caught up to him easily.

"Follow my lead," she called. "I know this place better than anyone. Let's get out of here and back to the others while we still can."

"Sister, you don't see me complaining," said Sparx.

The five dragons broke into a run, the sound of their running paws merging together to create a rhythmless drumming on the cold floor of the corridor. Their lone dragonfly companion kept pace with the front runners, a tiny golden light in the gloomy reddish-pink glow from the lights in the ceiling.

Another wall of electricity flickered alive in front of them minutes later, and Cynder avoided it only by swerving at the last second. Without wasting an instant, she sprinted back down the corridor, Lumis hard on her tail. The others struggled to keep up, paws slipping on the cold floor.

Up a narrow flight of stairs the dragons ran, unable to choose another route. Cynder tried to branch off to the left, which she knew led to an elevator several floors below. Before she had taken a few steps, however, another electric barrier blocked her way. With a snarl of annoyance, she spun around.

The chase, if it could be called one, continued for several minutes. Higher and higher, the dragons were forced to flee, all routes back down suddenly blocked off by flickering walls of electricity. Cynder was grinding her teeth in frustration by the time they made it to the elevator.

"We…we can take this down a few levels, right?" Zannak panted as everyone skidded to a halt. For a moment, everyone looked hopeful—until they noticed Cynder's grim expression.

"This elevator doesn't go down," she said darkly. "Only up. To the last level."

"And…what's on the last level?" Kazan asked hesitantly. Even Spyro, who had bypassed the top level of the fortress by taking the elevator to the roof four years ago, didn't know.

"You're about to find out," Cynder said grimly, indicating the electric barrier that had, moments ago, sprang up behind them. "It's the only way to go."

"Dammit," Lumis hissed under his breath.

Spyro glanced around the room, but there were no other exits to take—only the elevator, cold and unassuming in the centre of the room. A shiver passed down his spine.

"Cynder, are you sure about this? Whoever lives in this fortress is clearly trying to shepherd us towards them. We're walking into a trap."

"We don't have another choice," she replied, stepping solemnly towards the centre of the elevator. "There's no other way out. And besides…"

A dark look crossed her face and her eyes shimmered like poison. "…I want to meet the one who dares take over my fortress."

"_Why_?" Sparx whined. "Why would you want that? And why can't I have normal friends? Normal friends who don't get themselves wound up in deadly traps! Spyrooo…I think my heart's breaking up…"

With a dramatic, dry sob, the dragonfly descended onto his surrogate brother's head. Spyro sighed and moved to Cynder's side. He glanced over his shoulder before setting foot on the elevator.

"The rest of you don't have to come. Whoever's up there is probably after us… Or me."

"If it's my fault you're here…" Lumis trailed off, moving onto the elevator without hesitation. "I'll gladly face off with the old brute once more."

"Stop trying to get rid of us," Kazan grumbled, following the white dragon. "Come on, Zannak. We're not stopping here."

"Ohhhh man, I can already feel the doom we're walking into," the electric dragon crowed. "Wicked."

Cynder pressed her paws into the centre pad of the elevator, and it jerked upwards instantly, carrying with it six companions and the mournful cry of a dragonfly.

"Haven't we had enough doom already?"

* * *

The elevator ground to a stop with a sound like stones scraping together, and left its passengers with only one way to go. Forward. A wide dark hall lined with arching windows of purple glass led to a pair of colossal double doors. Settled in the very centre of those doors was the carved head of a dragon with yellow gems for eyes.

"Why do I feel like we don't wanna know what's behind those doors?" Sparx stage-whispered.

"I'm with the mosquito," Kazan muttered under his breath. "Something's got to be waiting for us in there."

"Mosquito yourself, flame-butt."

Ignoring the bickering pair, Cynder strode along the tattered red carpet that led to the doors and noticed with some surprise that Lumis kept pace beside her. The others followed warily, sticking close together, but he walked confidently at her side as though he knew what awaited them and was prepared to face it. His olive eyes were hard, but bright.

It was easy to forget who his brother was. As Cynder glanced sideways she noticed that, despite his lithe, almost feminine figure, he exuded a sort of silent strength. Confidence. Reliability. Perhaps even loyalty.

"You're not like him."

Lumis blinked slowly and glanced at her, questioningly.

"Your brother," she said. "You're not like him."

He looked forward again, his expression unchanged. "You don't know that."

Cynder frowned, but there was no longer any time for idle chitchat. The doors loomed before them, casting their little party into shadow. The glistening eyes of the carved dragon head leered down at them, daring them. Cynder felt as though she was staring back at herself, straight into the eyes of her past.

"Cyn…" Spyro began, but he didn't get any further.

Cynder rose up on her hind legs, placed her paws on the doors, and pushed. They creaked open as one, splitting the dragon head down the centre, and Cynder fell daintily back onto all fours. The dragons behind her held their breath as she stepped through the doors, pushing them open further with her wings. They followed behind in a silent procession.

"Ah, purple dragon. It's about time you showed up."

The guttural voice was as cold as an icy gust of wind, and the dragons felt their scales prickle as it filled their ears. Cynder stepped purposefully in front of Spyro, her eyes glinting dangerously. She raised her head and glared at the throne and its colossal occupant with all the hatred she could muster. The massive Dreadwing stared back at her, but his hideous face was cracked by a dark smile.

"Orroch," Cynder spat. "I knew your name sounded familiar."

The Dreadwing King uttered a short, gurgling laugh and stepped from his throne. He crept forward ever so slowly, the thud of his wing-claws hitting the ground as loud as hammers on anvils. Cynder stood her ground even as he approached and dwarfed them all in his shadow.

"Cynder, Cynder, _Cynder_," Orroch said, his voice almost a purr. "I can't say it's a surprise to see you—after all, who hasn't heard of the traitor Terror of the Skies who helped destroy her old master and took his murderer as her mate? I knew you'd be with him. But to see you like _this_, well…"

Another cold chuckle gurgled in his throat, and Cynder's muzzle wrinkled in loathing. The Dreadwing lowered his head until he was almost at her level.

"You're a little smaller than I remember."

Kazan and Zannak exchanged stunned glances, and Spyro's brow furrowed, but it was Sparx who voiced their thoughts.

"You're not telling me you know this freak, Cynder…"

The black dragoness snorted, her eyes still trained on Orroch. "I did. I do. You're bigger than I remember, Orroch. You always were unnaturally large for a Dreadwing, but you were never this…_grotesquely_ overgrown."

Orroch's smile widened, and if it was possible his face grew even more hideous. "It's because of you, you know, Cynder. The power you abandoned—the power denied to me by Malefor—is mine now. It granted me great size, knowledge of the common tongue, and abilities far greater than any Dreadwing has ever had."

"I defeated you when I barely knew my powers," Cynder snarled. "It will be all too easy to do it again."

"Do you really believe so? After you gave up the power your master so graciously offered you? You're little more than a hatchling now, Cynder. And I am far stronger than I was back then."

Cynder's wings flared out and poison shimmered on her fangs, as though she was ready to fight him then and there, but a slim white form slipped in front of her. Lumis scowled up at the Dreadwing king.

"You didn't lure us here to fight," he said. "I know you don't work like that, Orroch."

"Perceptive as always, my faithful oracle," Orroch said. Lumis stared hard at him for a moment and promptly spat at his feet.

"I'm anything but faithful to you."

Looking unperturbed, Orroch lifted his gaze from Lumis and swept it over the other dragons. Sparx edged behind Spyro's horn, wisely biting his lip to keep silent.

"I knew you'd crack eventually, Lumis," said the Dreadwing. "Weeks of agony can do wonders to a dragon's resolve. And now, because of you, the purple dragon and his friends are here at my mercy."

"What?" Kazan shot a glare towards Lumis, but the white dragon looked anything but guilty. If anything, he looked confused.

"That isn't true," he muttered, half to himself and half to Orroch. "I never gave in. I didn't call to him!"

"Lying does not befit you."

"It's not a lie!"

"Why else would he be here, then? Why else would he have wandered into our domain and gone straight to you? Nothing else could have lured the purple dragon here."

"What is he talking about?" Spyro cut in, staring from Lumis to Orroch and back again. Lumis gritted his teeth and lowered his head.

Orroch's yellow teeth shimmered in the dim light as he smiled. "You heard his spirit calls, didn't you, purple dragon? Those cries for help? Only you could have heard them! They were all him… And they were all to lure you here to my claws."

"That's not tr—!"

"You're wrong," Cynder said emotionlessly, cutting Lumis off. She met Orroch yellow eyes with disdain and the slightest inkling of curiosity. "Spyro wasn't the one who was lured here. I was."

"What?" Orroch's voice was slow and tainted with disbelief. Lumis was staring at Cynder, stunned.

"That's…impossible," he said. "Only spiritseers and the purple dragon are able to hear spirit calls. You… I know a spiritseer when I see one. You…you can't have heard them."

"I don't understand what a spirit call is," said Cynder, "but you weren't the one who called me here. It was another dragon—he appeared in my dreams. He was the one who led me here to help you."

"He…?" Lumis stared at her, slack-jawed.

"It matters not!" Orroch boomed suddenly, his smile gone and frustration etched into the countless winkles around his eyes. "What matters is that you are here, and you are _mine_, and none of you will be leaving this fortress!"

"You can't keep us, Orroch!" Cynder snarled, whirling on him again. "There are five of us and one of you—I don't care how hideously massive you are, you're outmatched against us."

The Dreadwing stepped closer, stretching himself up to his full height. His yellow eyes glared down at Cynder, who appeared small and fragile in his shadow. "Am I?"

His voice alone was enough to send chills down the spine of the hardiest of dragons, but Cynder stood firm. She looked about to respond, when a sudden commotion from behind interrupted. The five dragons whirled around and Orroch's head shot up, his face a picture of disapproval.

Struggling down the hallway towards the open doors of the stateroom were six Dreadwings and five very angry dragons. Flame was snapping furiously at everything he could reach, but something hindered him. A thin black cord looped around his neck and wings, the end held in the jaws of the closest Dreadwing. Whenever he lurched forward to snap at his captors, the Dreadwing jerked the cord and ripples of red electricity danced along its length. Flame snarled and staggered every time this happened.

The others, Cynder quickly noted, were treated similarly, though not all of them were fighting. Every now and then, Saffron would snarl at her captor, but the other three walked sedately as though they had given up the fight. The closer they got, the more Cynder could make out the determination in their eyes. They had not given up; they were waiting for the right moment.

"Lord Orroch," hissed the one Dreadwing who was not holding a cord in his jaws. "Found dragons. They try to fight us."

"Damn straight we're trying to fight—!" Flame roared, only to cut himself off with a snarl when the cord flashed with electricity again.

"We bring to you," continued the Dreadwing. He smiled cruelly.

Orroch's disapproval melted into amused triumph. He looked down at Spyro, who was watching the exchange with a look of dismay on his face. "Friends of yours? How kind of them to drop by. Bring them in!"

The Dreadwings marched their captives into the stateroom, and the doors slammed shut behind them. Flame's eyes fixed on Kazan, and he almost broke free from his captor with a furious snarl. His eyes flashed like blazing fireballs.

"You idiots!" he screamed. "What did you think you were doing?! What made you think you bloody hatchlings could go off by yourselves, you bast—?!"

"Flame!" Cynder snapped. She scowled and turned away. "Now is not the time."

Orroch's smile widened, his greedy eyes sweeping over his prize. "Yes, now that we're all here…"

"What do you want with us, Orroch?" Cynder snarled, her voice dripping with acidic hatred.

"You've got it all wrong, my dear." A cold chuckle reverberated in his throat. "You see, it's not _me_ who wants you. But I'm sure _he'll_ be happy to hear the purple dragon has finally arrived…"

"Contact Skelos," Orroch announced, turning to the smaller Dreadwings. "Let him know…the purple dragon is waiting for him."

Cynder's eyes widened to an almost impossible size. "You…you're in league with…?"

She never got a chance to finish her question. Two furious roars rent the air behind her, and she spun around in time to see Roku and Nadi break free from their captors. The cords snapped and sizzled around their bodies, and the Dreadwings reeled back as they were torn from their grips. Saffron, Ember and Flame took advantage of the confusion of their own captors, and lurched forward to freedom seconds later.

"Scatter!" Roku roared as he and Nadi charged as one towards the Dreadwing King.

Most of the dragons obeyed, shooting towards opposite sides of the stateroom to avoid being closed in by the Dreadwings. Cynder stood her ground and, as Roku and Nadi passed, leapt into action. In perfect synchronisation, all three of them powered into Orroch's barrel-like chest. Cynder's tailblade scored a hit down the side of his face, and he jerked backwards with a roar of agony. A resounding explosion of earth energy sent him skidding back towards his throne, where he collapsed in a heap on the marble floor.

Nadi flipped in midair, a sharp crescent blade of wind forming on his tail. It raced across the space between him and Orroch, who barely managed to avoid it by pushing his bulk to the side at the last second. By the time the wind dragon landed, Cynder and Roku were already charging the downed king.

Spyro found himself back to back with Lumis and beset on two sides by a pair of angry Dreadwings. Sparx flew up to a safe distance and, as Spyro leapt forward to engage his opponent in battle, he could hear the dragonfly shouting advice.

"Punch him in the jaw! To the left! The left! Watch out for that wing! Hey! That's cheating! Lousy bat-thing…"

Spyro rolled away, dazed from a blow to the head by a wing-claw. He looked up in time to see the Dreadwing bearing down on him, and gathered fire in the back of his throat. It reeled backwards, choking, as Spyro shot a fireball straight into its gaping mouth. Whirling around, he saw Lumis ducking and weaving around his Dreadwing in a strange sort of dance. His claws glanced across the bat-like creature's wing, eliciting an angry, high-pitched scream.

A hefty swipe from its wing-claw sent Lumis tumbling head over heels. Recognising a dragon in need, Spyro leapt over the white dragon and slammed paws first into the Dreadwing's face. It staggered back, howling with anger. Spyro twisted in the air and finished it off with a blast of electricity to the face at point-blank range. The Dreadwing dropped to the ground, convulsing.

"Take that, you ugly bat thing!" Sparx crowed.

"Are you hurt?" Spyro asked quickly, dropping on to all fours beside Lumis.

Lumis pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head as though to rid it of dust. "I'm alright. It's been a while since I've fought."

"I guess you'll be getting a lot of practice today," Spyro said grimly, glancing around the room.

Ember and Flame were finishing off a Dreadwing together with ease, though Spyro noticed with some confusion that the latter refrained from using his element. Nearby, Kazan and Zannak were dealing with two at once, their attacks complementing each other with more skill and unity than Spyro would have expected from them. The final Dreadwing towered over Saffron, but the yellow dragoness was holding her own.

Spyro was just about to step forward and help her when Orroch surged to his feet. Roku was tossed across the floor, and he barely managed to flip himself over and land on his paws. Nadi fared worse, thrown like a ragdoll by the Dreadwing's massive wing. He struck the ground hard and lay still, gasping for breath. Ignoring the loss of her allies, Cynder avoided Orroch's snapping jaws and ducked beneath him, sinking into her shadow.

Before she could spring her attack, however, the huge Dreadwing slammed his wing-claw down. To everyone's surprise, it sank into the dark shadow beneath him and he dragged Cynder up by the neck. She screeched in his face, her tail lashing like a viper, but was powerless to stop him from hurling her across the room.

"Cynder!" Spyro roared, launching himself towards her.

Her back struck his chest and he hit the ground with a sickening thud, skidding several meters towards the door. Silence filled the room as the two heroes came to a stop in a tangled, unmoving heap. Orroch drew a deep breath in, and Lumis's eyes widened in panic.

"Get out!" he yelled, his voice bouncing around the cavernous room. "Everyone get to the door!"

They ran. Saffron gave her Dreadwing one last kick in the face for good measure, and used the momentum to power herself towards the door. Flame and Ember sprinted towards their fallen friends, leaving Kazan and Zannak to throw themselves at the closed doors. Roku tossed Nadi's winded form onto his back and leapt after them, Lumis hard on his tail.

"Ruuuuun!" Sparx screamed, his voice reaching a pitch far higher than usual. He latched himself onto Spyro's horn, but the purple dragon didn't move.

"Go!" Flame yelled, tossing Spyro onto his back as Ember struggled to do the same with Cynder. Lumis skidded to a halt to help her, but it was too late.

A scream unlike any the group had ever heard resounded throughout the stateroom and the very air turned red. It ate at their eardrums, pierced their hearts, and seeped into their very blood. Agony burst behind their eyes, and all those caught in the scream collapsed, their own cries joining the vicious cacophony of terror.

Kazan and Zannak, who had tumbled into the hallway when the door had opened under their combined strength, slapped their paws over their ears and screamed. It was all they could do to block it out, and only their distance from the Dreadwing King saved them from the full brunt of the supersonic scream. Blood pumped in their heads, and their vision turned red—even behind closed eyes.

Then, mercifully, it ended. Gasping for breath, Kazan opened his eyes. Zannak was curled up behind him, shaking like a leaf with his paws still pressed firmly over his head. The red dragon staggered as he tried to sit up, fear filling him like acid running through his veins. He wasn't sure what terrified him so much, but in that moment, he had never felt more petrified. Wordlessly, he lay still, begging for it to end.

The heavy thud of Orroch's wing-claws broke the silence, followed by his guttural voice. "You fools. No one leaves this fortress without my permission. No one!"

Kazan shuddered and tried to twist himself around. He felt exposed with his back turned to the stateroom and the giant Dreadwing inside it. Every movement was like wading through sludge, as though fear was pinning his legs down. Eventually, he faced the stateroom and saw the damage.

All of his friends were down. They lay unmoving at Orroch's claws—unmoving, except for the convulsions that wracked their bodies with every few moments. Kazan couldn't see all their faces, but Flame's eyes were wide open and frozen with terror. He had never seen his rival so terrified. It scared him more than he cared to admit.

"Wh-who you…calling fools?" a small voice stammered. "You're th-the fool!"

Kazan's eyes widened in shock. From out of the tangled pile of Spyro, Flame, Ember and Cynder, a little golden light rose. Sparx flew up slowly until he was hovering right in front of Orroch's flat, hideous face. The dragonfly was trembling uncontrollably, but he pointed a tiny finger at the Dreadwing with all the courage he could muster.

"I-I won't let you hurt my brother!" he stammered, clenching a hand. "You…you ugly overgrown pixie! Take that!"

To Kazan's great amazement—and Orroch's too—Sparx sent his tiny clenched fist flying straight into the Dreadwing's eye. He chose his target wisely. With a scream of pain, Orroch jerked backwards, his eye filling with tears. Sparx took the chance to dart back to Spyro and started tugging desperately on his horn.

"Come on, bro, you gotta get up!"

Slowly, Kazan began to push himself to his feet. With every passing second, the fear was fading, and the trembles that wracked his body were lessening. Zannak had stopped shaking beside him, but the yellow dragon was still largely unresponsive. The rest were still comatose.

"_Pest_," Orroch hissed, his watery eye closed and his face livid. "You insolent speck of dust! I will not be bested by a _bug_!"

"Th-then, try this one!" Kazan yelled. The Dreadwing's head snapped towards him just as he fired the strongest fireball he could muster. It flew straight towards its target—and promptly fizzled out halfway there. Kazan gazed at the falling embers in horrified dismay.

Orroch threw back his head and laughed. "You call that fire? You can't even call yourself a dragon with attacks as pathetic as that!"

Kazan gritted his teeth, his cheeks burning with shame. All of a sudden, all the fear that had been holding him prisoner was gone—burned away by anger and a need to defend his honour. Fire spread from his jaws to his eyes and over onto his horns. It didn't stop there, creeping down the back of his neck and flaring to life along his wings. By the time he was covered head to tail in flickering flames, Kazan was already charging.

"It's not…!" he screamed, flaring his wings out and launching himself at the Dreadwing. He slammed flaming paws first into the shocked king's chest.

"…my fault…!" Kazan swung his tail around, slamming the flaming tailblade straight into Orroch's face.

"…I'm different!" Fiery claws tore through Orroch's fur, setting his very flesh ablaze. The Dreadwing screamed and thrashed in a desperate attempt to escape the fiery demon attached to him. By chance, his wing-claw struck Kazan on the side of the head and sent him tumbling to the floor. But the damage had already been done. Lines of fire burned scars down his elegant white fur, and his face was marred by vicious burning cuts caused by Kazan's tailblade.

Before Orroch had a chance to recover, an ear-piercing otherworldly scream rent the air for a second time. It was not as loud or as agonising, but it was enough to send the Dreadwing staggering backwards in disarray. Kazan staggered to his feet, whirling around in alarm. Cynder was finally on her feet, her eyes blazing with vibrant red energy.

"Have a taste of your own medicine," she hissed.

"Nice one," Sparx muttered grudgingly. All around them the others were starting to rise, the shock of Orroch's Fear scream finally wearing off. Even Spyro got to his feet, though he looked dazed from his collision with the ground.

"Let's…let's get out of here," Kazan gasped, the flames dissipating from his scales. He wobbled on his feet, but managed to steady himself.

"While we still can," Lumis agreed, shooting a glance towards the agonised king. Orroch writhed on the ground under the influence of Cynder's Fear scream, his dead underlings scattered around him. The dragons fled the room without delay, but Orroch's furious roar followed them down the hall. They felt the floor shake as he lumbered to his feet.

"Better run for it!" Sparx yelled, shooting ahead. "Angry monster on our tails!"

"What happened?" Spyro exclaimed, shaking himself from his daze and speeding up to match Sparx.

"Eh, nothing much. You hit your head, creepy dude back there made some sort of horrible sound that dropped you lot, and I punched his ugly eye."

"You _what_?"

"It was a nice punch," Kazan wheezed, falling into step beside the purple dragon. Sparx grinned and buffed his chest with his knuckles.

"It really was."

They skidded into the elevator, struggling to keep their balance on the smooth, icy floor. The hall shook as Orroch pursued them with great thundering leaps. Tangled threads of panic solidified into a sense of urgency, and the dragons pressed closer together. Spyro thought he could hear the terrified melody of their hearts beating in sync.

"Go down, go down!" Sparx whined desperately, waving his twiggy arms at the elevator. It didn't budge.

"Move!" Cynder screeched, shouldering though to the centre of the elevator. Her paws slammed down on glass, and the entire thing trembled.

It started with a groan and, ever so slowly, began to inch towards the floor below. A flicker of hope trembled through the group, but one look at Orroch's looming, furious face turned their blood to ice. He launched himself at the elevator and landed with an almighty thud in the middle of the dragons. They scattered to the edges, ducking to avoid his swiping wings.

"You will all die!" he screeched, gouging a scar in the wall with one of his wing-claws. "The purple dragon is the only one I need alive! All the rest of you will perish slowly and painfully by my claws!"

"We've heard it all before!" Cynder snarled, tearing at his wing with claws that shimmered with poison. He screeched and knocked her away, but she landed on her paws at the edge of the elevator.

"We're trapped like this!" Ember yelled from Orroch's other side. "The elevator's too slow!"

"Then we'll have to improvise!" Cynder yelled back. "Roku, Spyro! Break it!"

The two in question exchanged glances and launched themselves at the glassy centre of the elevator. Beneath the pane of reddish glass, the elevator was formed of black stone, but neither dragon was deterred. Green glowed around their paws as they raised them to their chests and promptly slammed them back down again. A colossal crack rent the air and pieces of glass went flying. Orroch screamed in outrage, but his claw swipe was intercepted by Flame and Ember.

Again, Spyro and Roku slammed their paws into the elevator. Flashes of green energy flew in all directions, and the stone shattered like glass. The startled cries of ten dragons and one Dreadwing filled the air as, among clumps of dark stone, they fell. Cynder caught herself with her wind element, and nearby Nadi did the same.

"Follow!" Cynder called, shooting down and catching her friends with her wind as she did so. They flapped after her, barely avoiding Orroch's falling form as he scrambled desperately at the walls for traction.

Just as the bottom of the elevator came into view, Cynder veered to the side and shot down the nearby tunnel. The wall of electric bars had thankfully been deactivated by the Dreadwings earlier, and they found no obstacle as they fled from their falling adversary. Orroch struck the ground with a sickening crunch, but the dragons didn't look back to see if he had survived. Elated by their escape, they followed Cynder through the corridors until she landed and skidded to a halt.

Gasping, she turned around to survey her friends. "Is…is everyone here?"

There were nods and whispers all round, and Cynder let out a sigh of relief. Even Lumis was still with them, his expression unreadable as he stood to the side. Cynder turned and faced the corridor.

"Then let's get out of this hell hole."

"Mind telling us who this guy is first?" Flame muttered, halting everyone in their tracks. He was glaring at Lumis as though he had committed a most treasonous act, and Cynder knew he too had spotted the family resemblance.

"There'll be time for that later," she said sternly. "All you need to know is that he's a friend."

She eyed the white dragon carefully, and he stared imperviously back. _'I think.'_

Flame opened his mouth, perhaps to argue more, but he never got the chance. A loud thud sounded several corridors behind them, followed by a furious, high-pitched shriek. The dragons winced. Grimacing, Flame turned around and glared back the way they had come.

"Sounds like our big friend is still in the running. We better go." His golden eyes fixed on Lumis. "We'll talk later."

The white dragon didn't respond. Unspeaking, the gang of dragons hurried on. The electricity traps that had blocked Cynder and the others before had all been deactivated, and Cynder couldn't help but smile with grim satisfaction. Orroch had been proud enough to think that they wouldn't escape the stateroom once he had them there. How wrong he had been.

"We'd best make it quick before he reactivates the traps," she called over her shoulder. But, though they picked up speed, they didn't get further than a few more corridors before the alarms went off.

Cynder swore under her breath and took off at a gallop, the others hard on her tail. The entire Dreadwing nest would be aware of their presence now, and it was only a matter of time before they thought to reactivate the electricity traps. As it turned out, it wasn't much time at all. The instant they turned into the next corridor, they found a wall of electric bars waiting for them. Cynder gritted her teeth and turned away.

Just as before, the gang raced through the corridors, switching direction at random as traps sprang to life before their eyes. Eventually, they skidded to a halt in a tall, circular room that could have only been one of the many spires around the fortress. It was a dead end.

"Now what?" Ember asked nervously, backing up until she bumped into Flame. The room was large and empty, lit from above by cords of red electric wire running up into the tapering roof far above their heads. There were no windows.

"We're going to have to make an exit," Cynder growled. "There's no way we're getting down to the bottom floor like this."

"Why didn't we do that before?" Flame grumbled.

"Because I hoped we wouldn't have to. It's going to take a bit of time, and I don't know how much of that we have. First of all…I need all of you with the strongest elemental attacks. Spyro, Roku, you can use earth, and that just might be the only thing that can get us out of here. Kazan, I know you've got power in close combat. Flame…"

"I…I can't." Flame gritted his teeth and looked away, a deep scowl marring his expression. Cynder stared at him, bemused.

"He touched one of the crystals outside," Ember explained, her wings drooping. "It…sapped his element."

Cynder groaned. "Why would you do something that stupid?"

"I didn't know, okay?!"

A concord of shrieks from somewhere nearby cut the argument in two, and everyone whirled towards the entrance. Cynder ground her teeth together. "We don't have time for this. Alright, Flame and Ember can help me fight the Dreadwings off. Zannak, Saffron, you two can combine your attacks and help break through the wall."

"Wait," Spyro cut in, stepping forward, "Flame _can_ help. Those crystals must be dark gems, just like the ones we ran into ages ago. That means…"

He craned his head around and flipped his satchel open with his muzzle. Seconds later, he raised his head with a chunk of spirit gem clenched in his jaws. He spat it at Flame's feet. "Spirit gems will help."

Flame threw himself on the gem without a word, shattering it in his jaws and closing his eyes as a multicoloured shimmer surrounded him. Cynder turned away from the sight and glared towards the corridor they'd come from. She could hear the sound of creatures approaching faster than she would have liked.

"Fine. Ember, Lumis, Nadi, you're with me. The rest of you, break that wall as quickly as you can."

The six dragons exchanged looks. Flame clambered to his feet and puffed a small tongue of fire from his nostrils. He grinned roguishly. "Back in action, boys. Let's go!"

"Do you think we can hold them long enough?" Lumis asked, sidling to Cynder's side. She glanced sideways at him.

"We have to."

"Or none of us will get out of here alive," Ember agreed grimly.

The first earth shot was Spyro's. It struck the wall with a tremendous bang, but did little more than dislodge a layer of dust. Roku followed up with his own, but found just as little success. As one, the two dragons fired bullet of stone after bullet of stone at the wall, until it was obscured in a cloud of dust. Flame wasted no time in adding his fireballs to the fray. Kazan joined him, glad his unusual condition gave him no grief at this short range. There was a distinct buzz of electricity in the air as Saffron and Zannak joined in.

As the wall struggled to hold firm under the onslaught of several elemental attacks at once, Cynder and her three companions faced the entrance. They waited edgily for the first of their pursuers to appear around the corner. In the mean time, a golden glow flitted around their heads.

"So, uh…what can I do?" Sparx asked.

"You can start by not distracting us," Cynder snapped. The dragonfly made a face.

"Hey, who was the one that punched old ugly-face in the eye? Yeah, not you."

"Conveniently forgetting who's saved your tail countless time, Sparx?"

"You've threatened to eat me more times than that. I've been counting."

The high-pitched scream of a Dreadwing sounded in the corridor, and its flat face appeared in the entrance way. Cynder steeled herself, poison shimmering on her fangs. "Let's do this."

"Ah, yeah… You kids have fun with that. I'll be…over there." Sparx zipped away without another word, and Cynder almost missed his reassuring golden light. She reminded herself that she didn't miss his irritable banter.

"Come on, you ugly beast!" she taunted. With a screech, the Dreadwing threw itself through the entrance way and straight into Cynder's poison shot. It dropped with a short cry.

"Here they come!" Ember yelled, and suddenly the entrance way was filled with Dreadwings. As one, they charged the dragons.

Cynder leapt into the fray with both grace and deadly precision, her tail striking like a viper. Dreadwings fell around her, their claws missing her by inches as she ducked and weaved with skill bestowed by years of gruelling battle. She sensed Ember fighting beside her, the pink dragoness's fire glowing with a reassuring light as they powered through the sea of fur and wings. Nadi and Lumis were lost to view, but she trusted them to hold their own.

A cry to her left startled her, and she turned in alarm to help Ember. The pink dragoness had been knocked down by one of the Dreadwings, and it was bearing down on her like a predator over prey. With a snarl, Cynder threw herself on its back. She sank her claws into its fur and clung for dear life as it whirled around to throw her off. A wing-claw caught her leg and, though she tried to hold on, tore her away from her quarry.

Her shoulder struck the ground with jarring force, and the satchel on her upper arm exploded open. As she skidded across the floor, so too did the Poison Claws, throwing up sparks as they skittered over the smooth surface. They came to rest inches away from Lumis, startling the Dreadwing that had cornered him against the wall. Taking advantage of his opponent's distraction, Lumis lurched forward. His claws tore into the Dreadwing's face, spraying blood across his paw.

The beast shrieked and reeled backwards, unwittingly exposing its throat. Lumis didn't look away as he tore into his opponent. The Dreadwing hit the ground with a dull, pitiful thud, and Lumis crawled off its convulsing body. Blood that was not his rolled down his alabaster cheek.

Then, almost reverently, he stepped over to the fallen Claws. There was disbelief in his eyes.

Slowly, Cynder picked herself up and her horrified eyes fell on the Claws. They were well out of her reach.

"Don't touch…!" she started to yell, but Lumis looked sharply at her and she fell silent. There was a look in his eyes that told her he knew more than she realised.

"Where did you get these?" he asked quietly.

Cynder would have responded were it not for the Dreadwing that rammed its horns into her side and set her tumbling across the floor. She flipped onto her paws and spun around, engulfing the shrieking creature in suffocating shadow fire. "I'll tell you later!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lumis pause. And then, as though it was something he had done many times before, he stepped forward and slipped the Claws over his own. They fitted as though they had been made for him, and he turned back to the Dreadwings with a new glint in his eyes. Cynder had to tear her eyes away to avoid being tackled by another Dreadwing.

A loud explosion rocked the entire spire, and everyone spun around. A cloud of dust was billowing around Spyro and the others, and they were coughing desperately.

"We're almost through!" Spyro yelled over the sound of battle. The Dreadwings lurched towards them, but never got that far.

"Keep going!" Cynder yelled over her shoulder as she tackled a nearby Dreadwing and punched her tailblade through its throat. It gurgled pitifully as it died.

A shadow loomed behind her, and she whirled around to face it, only for the Dreadwing to drop at her feet. Lumis stood behind it, the Poison Claws glowing on his forepaws, his eyes hard and cold.

"You should go help your friends," he said. "I can hold them off."

"Are you sure?" Cynder frowned, disturbed by the change that had come over him with the Claws at his disposal.

He whirled and sliced through the jugular of a Dreadwing trying to creep behind him, dropping it instantly. "Go on."

Cynder hesitated only briefly before scampering over to Spyro. She heard Lumis telling Ember to do the same, and hoped he knew what he was doing. That many Dreadwings was far too much for a single dragon. Spyro glanced at her in surprise as she skidded to a halt beside him and added her poison to the fray. The stone seemed to melt away before her eyes and, as Ember joined in, one last push was all it needed. Together, they fired their elements at once, and the wall exploded.

The stone crumbled outwards with a groan, and as the dust cleared, the outside world appeared before their eyes. For a moment, the dragons merely stared.

"Go, go!" Cynder snapped, pushing Ember towards the hole they had made. It was about as big as a full grown dragon, and cracks were spider-webbing in all directions. Cynder had a feeling the spire wouldn't hold for much longer with that damage.

One by one, the dragons leapt through into the open air and took flight. Cynder whirled around and found herself face to face with Nadi.

"He told me to go," the wind dragon said, gesturing behind him. "Wouldn't take no for an answer."

Cynder gaped. On the other side of the room, Lumis was just barely holding back the swarm of Dreadwings. They pushed forward as one, struggling to get to the dragons before they could escape, but Lumis darted to and fro, cutting them down with the Poison Claws like he had been doing it all his life.

"Is he mad?" Cynder exclaimed. "He'll get himself killed! Go!"

She pushed Nadi towards the hole in the wall and sprinted over to Lumis herself. She heard someone following her, and was almost certain it was Spyro.

"Lumis! We have to go!" Cynder yelled, smacking a Dreadwing in the face with her tailblade as it managed to sneak past the white dragon.

"You go!" he yelled back, landing on one Dreadwing and springing off onto another. The Claws flashed like lightning. "I'll hold them off!"

"You don't need to do that!"

Her words fell on deaf ears, and she ground her teeth together. A warm presence beside her reminded her that Spyro was there. The purple dragon stepped forwards resolutely, his eyes hard.

"We're not leaving you behind," he said as Lumis landed in front of him, panting. The white dragon turned to meet his eyes.

"If you don't, they'll only pursue you."

"We can handle them." Spyro's eyes darkened. "I let your brother die. I won't do the same for you."

Lumis paused and the glint of battle disappeared from his eyes for but a moment. "That…that wasn't your fault."

A Dreadwing shrieked and threw itself at them, and Lumis leapt forward to engage it in combat. Spyro watched him with dismay and looked ready to leap in after him, but Cynder held him back. She was frowning.

"He's made his choice."

"But…"

"Come on, Spyro."

She turned back to the hole in the wall, staggering as the whole spire shook. Spyro hesitated, and she turned imploring eyes on him. "Come on! Before this whole place collapses!"

Spyro gritted his teeth and glanced once back at Lumis. The Poison Claws were glowing on his talons, and the Dreadwings were backing away from him now that they were well aware of the threat. They screeched in frustration, their beady eyes darting from Lumis to Spyro, like beasts trapped behind bars, unable to reach their ultimate goal. Spyro bit his lip.

"Spyro!" Sparx yelled from the makeshift exit. "What are you waiting for?!"

The purple dragon closed his eyes. Screams from outside drifted through the hole in the wall, and told him that the Dreadwings had caught up to his friends in the air. His paws trembled.

"Spyro!"

"I'm not leaving." Spyro's eyes opened, blazing with hard conviction. "You help the others. I'm not leaving without him."

Anger flashed in Cynder's eyes. "I'm not leaving you here, Spyro."

"I'm not giving you a choice!" His voice hitched. "Just go! Help them! I'll..."

Spyro faltered, and in the silence he heard Flame's telltale roar. It mingled with the shriek of a Dreadwing cut down by Lumis's claws. "...I'll be right behind you. I promise."

Cynder stared hard at him, and Spyro knew that was a promise he couldn't break. She nodded. "Alright. Be quick."

She stopped at the edge of the makeshift exit and added without looking at him, "I love you."

Spyro didn't have a chance to respond before she leapt out into the storm-choked sky and out of sight. Gritting his teeth, Spyro turned back to Lumis and the wall of Dreadwings. Terrified of the Poison Claws though they were, he could tell they were preparing to charge.

"So what's the plan?"

The purple dragon glanced to his side, only half surprised to see Sparx hovering there. "We get out of here alive. All of us."

"Good plan. Just, uh...how do we do that?"

Spyro's eyes flashed, the world turned blue, and he charged. The world froze around him. Dreadwings became statues, the wind became ice, and all sound warped and distorted to the point where it was merely a dull throb in the back of Spyro's head. He charged like a beast forcing its way through liquid. Fire ignited along his snout in blazing lines from his head to his tail, and the very confines of time shattered around him.

Passing Lumis, frozen in mid-leap, Spyro slammed flaming horns first into the foremost Dreadwing. Colour returned to its body in a rippling wave as it was released from its prison of time, and it slammed bodily into the Dreadwing behind it. A chain reaction of fire and bodies followed as Spyro streaked a blazing line down the centre of the Dreadwing force.

His hold on time wavered and slipped, and Spyro let it go as he skidded to a halt on top of the charred corpse of his enemy. Dreadwings surrounded him on all sides, and he could hear Sparx cheering from somewhere above him. Drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and summoned all the elemental strength he had left.

Electricity crackled at the edges of his scales, but the Dreadwings didn't realise what was happening until it was too late. As he felt his body begin to vibrate with built up voltage, Spyro opened his eyes, rose to his hind legs, and released it. A web of rippling electricity expanded around him, engulfing all those closest to him in bright yellow light. With a sound like an explosion, it discharged. Voltage leapt in deadly tongues from the shattered electric web, spearing through the ranks of Dreadwings like blades of light.

Their shrieks reverberating in his ears, Spyro fell heavily back to all fours, panting. Before he could even begin to recover, the Dreadwings on the far edges of the fray who had been lucky enough to escape his fury began to close in. Blinking exhaustion from the corners of his eyes, he summoned up what remained of his elemental reserves.

A flash of metal caught his gaze, and Spyro jerked sharply towards the glint on instinct—just in time to see Lumis bury the Poison Claws into the chest of a Dreadwing. He tore them out viciously and the ill-fated beast crumpled listlessly. Spyro's gaze was fixed on the white dragon. What disturbed him most was not the vicious act of violence, but the utterly emotionless expression he had performed it with.

When he turned to Spyro, however, there was just a hint of anger in those dull green eyes. "I told you to go!"

"And I told you I wouldn't," Spyro replied evenly, though he was shaken by Lumis's appearance. His white scales were striped with crimson, and Spyro knew it was not his own blood. A sickening feeling churned in his gut.

The anger in Lumis's eyes became more pronounced. "Just go! You've done enough!"

"Only if you come with me."

A supersonic scream sent both of them reeling before Lumis had a chance to respond. He was the first to recover, whirling around and slashing the Claws across the offending Dreadwing's face. It screamed and dropped, the wounds festering with fast-moving poison. Spyro spun back to his feet in a flurry of ice, coating his tail and turning it into a deadly weapon to rival Cynder's tailblade. Two Dreadwings screamed as they were cut down.

"Stop fighting and get out of here!" Lumis demanded, whirling back to Spyro.

Without bothering to respond, Spyro turned his back on the white dragon and faced the Dreadwings. It was, he discovered moments later, a mistake. Something cold and hard as metal struck him a blow to the back of the head and the world spun. Suddenly he was staring at the ceiling, a dull throb in the back of his head and a fuzziness behind his eyes. A white figure loomed over him.

"Go now," Lumis hissed, raising his paw. Through his daze, Spyro realised he must have struck him with the back of the Claws. "Or I'll kill you myself."

Spyro's eyes widened, the fog clearing from his head.

"Hey, get off him!" Sparx yelled, and Spyro saw him dart in to deliver a punch to Lumis's cheek. The white dragon hardly seemed to notice.

"You..."

The alarmed shrieks of several Dreadwings interrupted Spyro before he could say another word. A strong gust of wind sent two of them flying into the walls, and a flash of bronze appeared through the gloom. Scarlet eyes glinted alarmingly.

"Get away from the purple dragon."

"Nadi?" Spyro craned his head, startled by the sudden appearance of the bronze dragon. He wasn't looking at Spyro, but rather at Lumis. Spyro had never seen him so angry. He looked almost unbalanced.

Lumis scowled but backed off. As Spyro pushed himself up, he saw the white dragon's legs trembling. Wind twisted into bizarre shapes around Nadi as he stepped forward, forming a shield around his body that repelled all Dreadwings that dared to get close. Shrieking, the Dreadwings began to retreat, perhaps aware now that they were well outmatched. Already over half their number had been slain by the dragons.

"Let's go," Nadi said darkly, his eyes turning to Spyro. "I'm not letting you die here,"

An odd look passed over his face and he added, "Either of you."

Lumis's jaw clenched.

"Where's everyone else?" Spyro asked.

"Outside. They're waiting for you. They can't hold the Dreadwings off forever."

"Then let's go!" Sparx exclaimed, raising his hands in exasperation. "What are we even waiting for?"

"Sparx is right, come on!" Spyro leapt for the entrance, only to skid to a halt when he realised Lumis wasn't following. "Let's go!"

Lumis didn't budge. Behind him, the Dreadwings began to creep forward. Anger flashed in Nadi's eyes and he lurched forward, blowing the beasts back with a gust of wind. He whirled on Lumis and, to everyone's shock, punched him hard across the face. The white dragon staggered and looked up, startled.

"Do you want to die here like a coward?" Nadi hissed. Spyro stared in amazement, half disturbed by this side of the wind dragon he had never seen before. "That's not heroic. That's just stupid."

Lumis stared at his paws in utter silence, his stance as rigid as stone. For a moment, Spyro thought he _had_ been turned to stone.

"When there's a chance to survive, you _take_ it." Bitterness dripped from Nadi's voice like poison. "You don't go down fighting unless there's no other choice! What's the point of throwing your life away when you still have a chance?!"

Lumis gave no response. Nadi snorted.

"Yeah. There _is_ no point."

"Dude, might want to look behind you," Sparx interrupted.

Nadi whirled around and blasted away the Dreadwing that had been gearing itself up to pounce on him. Blades of solid wind tore gashes in its flesh, and it reeled backwards into its comrades. They shrieked and darted out of the way.

"Let's go!" Spyro called again, and this time Lumis obeyed. With one glance back at the Dreadwings, he darted towards the hole in the wall. Spyro followed close, assuming Nadi was hard on his tail.

The wind dragon, however, was not on his tail. At the sight of their prey escaping, the Dreadwings gathered up what remained of their courage and charged as one. Nadi stood alone to face them, his face set but his mind whirring with half-formed plans to escape. He heard Spyro call for him, and his eyes darted to the hole in the wall. The cracks were spreading further. An idea sprang unbidden into his mind.

"Sorry, buzzards," he murmured to the Dreadwings, before turning tail and fleeing towards the makeshift exit. Spyro was waiting for him at the edge, and Nadi gestured frantically for him to go. The moment the purple dragon was through, Nadi blasted the wall above the hole with the strongest cone of wind he could muster.

Stone and dust shattered in all directions as the weakened wall began to crumble completely. Feeling the acrid breath of the Dreadwings on his tail, Nadi leapt across the trembling floor and through the hole. Dust obscured his vision and he felt pieces of stone falling around him. Some clipped his wings, and another bounced off his horn, almost throwing him out of control. Through the haze of debris, he saw the shape of another dragon and knew it was Spyro.

The Dreadwings screamed behind him, caught in the crumbling stonework, and a deep roar—so loud it could have been mistaken for thunder—perforated the air. At first Nadi didn't realise what it was. Had Orroch finally caught up to them? But as he burst through the cloud of dust, he realised it was not a Dreadwing at all.

The entire spire was crumbling. Damaged beyond repair, it fell to disarray. A waterfall of stone and dust cascaded down the side of the fortress, crumbling to the crystallised earth far below with a bellowing howl.

"Oh yeah, and _that_ is how you go out with a bang!" Sparx punched the air. Nadi blinked the dust from his eyes and found himself flying alongside Spyro and Lumis. Their scales were coated by a layer of stone dust, but they were very much alive and in one piece.

"That was risky," Spyro said, shooting the wind dragon a look. He smiled. "But effective."

Nadi smiled wryly, a smile that did not reach his eyes. "High praise from the purple dragon."

"Guys!" A voice yelled, and they looked ahead to find Saffron flying towards them. Behind her, the others were beset on all sides by countless Dreadwings far more nimble in the air. They had faltered, however, and were now staring in dismay at the crumbling spire. "You made it!"

"Let's get out of here while we have the chance," Spyro said as they weaved around confused Dreadwings. "While they're distracted."

Cynder saw them coming and manouvered herself skillfully to Spyro's side. He smiled at her. "Told you I'd be right behind you."

"I never doubted you."

The Dreadwings scattered as Spyro and his companions shot through to freedom. They shrieked and howled behind them, but seemed unwilling to follow and continue the battle. Even the wrath of their king was preferable to mass slaughter at the claws of dragons. Cynder looked back only once, her expression almost regretful as she watched the last shattered remnants of the spire crumble. She shook her head and looked away.

"Let's hope that's the last time we'll ever see this place."

"I could live with that," said Sparx.

Behind them, a new sound joined the thunder and the distant howl of the crumbling spire. A roar of fury tore through the sky, and the wind itself seemed to respond, carrying the dragons away from a land of dark crystals and bitter memories, and leaving the former fortress of the Terror of the Skies far behind.

**A/N: Welp, that's that, folks. This chapter probably raised a few questions, but all shall be answered in due time... **

**And for those of you who have managed to confuse yourselves. Go back to chapter 17. Near the end of the chapter is the scene where the dragon from the badlands is introduced. Read it again. Notice what has been said and what has not been said. I never stated his name, colour, or eye colour. I _did_ state (roughly) how big he is. And that's basically all you have to go on, other than the fact that he has a grudge on the purple dragon for some unknown reason...**

**This chapter was fairly heavily reworked from the original, especially the end which was rewritten from scratch. The original ending was so...blah. And it really didn't showcase Lumis's character enough. More on him to come...**

**I don't know what's happening next chapter. Probably panthers and cheetahs or something... Bah. I missed you guys~ Thanks for reading everyone. :'D And, as always, thanks super duper wooper awesome sauce for the reviews. **

**See you again soonish, I hope~ **


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Ahem... Sorry if this chapter is a bit disappointing/rushed. It's not the best, but it's been three months and I really want to get back into writing this story. This chapter was holding me back, so I just had to write it and get it out there, even if it's not my best work. Hope you guys enjoy anyway~**

**34.**

Two days had passed since the ill-fated battle at Warfang; two days for the panthers to lick their wounds and, in the case of the twins, ponder their next move. The morning had brought about a visit from their new spy, sooner than they had expected. As the day drifted towards afternoon, the sinking sun found Skulk and Skelos sitting back to back on a large boulder at the edge of the grasslands. Dark forms dotted the grasses behind them, and a quiet wind was punctuated by distant threads of conversation and the occasional howl of a Death Hound.

"What's on your mind?" Skelos asked. His staff lay across his lap, the spirit gem shimmering in the low light.

"What's on yours?"

"I asked first."

Skulk rolled his eyes, forgetting for a moment that his brother wouldn't see it. "Why don't you guess, then?"

"Do you think we should go after Terra?"

The question was not as abrupt as it should have been—it had been circling in their minds for hours with no clear answer. Skulk scowled and reclined to lean against his twin's back. His eyes drifted towards the sky. He was silent for some time, and eventually Skelos spoke again. "She's our sister."

"I know."

"And?"

"What do you want me to say?" Skulk sat up straighter and twisted to glare at his brother. Skelos turned to face him imperviously.

"I want to know if you care what happens to her," he said grimly.

Skulk averted his eyes. "She betrayed all of us. As far as I'm concerned, she…"

"She's still our sister."

"_Half-_sister. Are you saying that because she shares our blood we should forgive her for her treachery? Panthers died in that battle! Because of _her_!"

"How do we know they wouldn't have died anyway?" Skelos stared bitterly at his paws. "Attacking the dragons openly was a foolish idea. We should have remembered that after the first time."

A paw roughly gripped his shoulder, and Skelos looked up again into the angry eyes of his twin. He couldn't help noticing the way Skulk's gaze flicked almost of its own accord towards his bandaged eye.

"If you want my opinion, I say we let her go. She's no longer our sister or our ally, and if I ever see her again I'm going to treat her like I would any cheetah. _Without mercy_," Skulk's paw loosened slightly on his brother's shoulder. "But you don't want my opinion, do you? You just want to tell me yours."

Skelos raised a paw to his wounded eye, running his pad over the course fabric that covered it. The wound recalled images of the cheetah that had dealt it—and of his sister's worried gaze. "I want to go after her. Traitor or not, she's still a panther. She's still our sister. And I'm going to bring her back."

"And what then? We forget what she's done? Punish her?"

"That depends on her," Skelos said, turning his gaze towards the dark shape on the horizon that was Warfang. Beyond it lay the Valley of Avalar—and Terra. "If she shows remorse, we give her a chance at redemption."

"And if not?"

Skelos was silent.

Skulk sighed and took his paw off his twin's shoulder. "I know you want to believe there's still a chance for her, but…"

"I won't give up on my sister." It did not go unnoticed that Skelos refrained from saying 'our', but Skulk didn't correct him.

"You're going to Avalar." It should have been a question, but Skulk spoke as though he already knew the answer. Skelos nodded stiffly and slipped off the boulder, landing nimbly on his feet. He propped his stave up on his shoulder and craned his head back to look at his brother.

"If I can bring her back, I will. Even if it means taking her by force. It's for her own good."

"You'll get yourself killed if you go alone."

Skelos smiled ruefully and turned his gaze towards the edge of the forest that bordered the grasslands. A small group of panthers were gathered around a campfire there, and most gave them a wide berth. "I'll take two of our assassins with me. And don't worry… If I can help it, I'll make sure none of the cheetahs even know we're there."

Skulk rested his chin on his hand, propping his elbow up on his knee. "I hope you're not sabotaging everything because of her."

"We're already in a bad position," Skelos said, raising a hand in farewell as he approached the gathering of Elite Guard, "what could make it worse?"

His brother didn't respond, but Skelos felt his eyes watching him like pricks of light through the evening gloom. If he didn't return, there would be hell to pay.

_'Don't make me regret this, Terra.'_

* * *

The sandstone halls of the Academy curved welcomingly around Zephira as she stepped out of the chilly morning air. At this time of morning, usually the halls would have been filled with the raucous voices of young dragons pushing and shoving their way to their first lessons of the day. In the wake of the battle, however, the Academy had once more ceased operating, if only for a time. There were rumours that it would be closed for good this time, until the threat to the city was gone. Zephira had a feeling the Guardians wouldn't let that happen.

With the lack of students, the halls of the Academy seemed eerily quiet. Domino and Myst, as always, trailed at Zephira's heels, the pitter-patter of their paws comforting in the silence. No one spoke as they passed by empty classrooms and ascended onto the second floor of the Academy. There, Zephira turned a sharp left away from the stairs and halted in front of a wooden door.

"Why are we here?" Domino moaned, leaning on Zephira's leg. "I thought you were gonna learn how to fly."

Zephira hushed him gently and raised her paw to knock. Before her claws met wood, however, a voice drifted through the door. It was muffled, but audible.

"Enter, child. Don't be shy."

Swallowing her nerves, Zephira pushed the door open and led the hatchlings inside. The door settled quietly back into its frame, and the three young dragons found themselves in the presence of the only adult wind dragon in the city. Seak's sightless eyes gazed at a point somewhere to their left, a gentle smile on her wrinkled lips.

"You're early," she said with a hint of kind amusement.

Zephira faltered, for a moment hushed by awe and respect, as she always was in Seak's presence. The old dragoness was sitting on a circular mat by the door, a deep maroon that clashed with her white-washed scales. Desks and cushions that usually occupied the space of the classroom had been pushed to the sides of the room, leaving a large open space in the middle. A low wooden desk sat at one end of the room, and morning sunlight streamed through thin windows.

"How did you know we were there?" Zephira asked.

"I sensed your breathing," Seak chuckled. "My old body may have long given up what power it could once contain, but the wind has not yet deserted me. I sense you have brought your friends, too."

Her wizened face turned towards Domino and Myst, and another smile wrinkled her muzzle.

"Children of the wind, all of you—hope for a dying race."

"Why are we here?" Zephira asked, while Domino beamed with pride and Myst smiled shyly. "You said I could learn to fly again, but…"

She raked the empty classroom with her eyes, taking in the low roof and the relatively small amount of open space. Seak seemed to sense her unspoken doubts.

"The path to flight is not one you can take in a single day, Zephira," she said gently. "It could be weeks before you leave the ground again. For now we have no need of space to fly, and I thought you might like a bit of privacy and familiarity. The Guardians were kind enough to lend us this classroom. Perhaps you can imagine it is merely another school lesson."

"But school's boring," Domino whined. Zephira hushed him quickly, her cheeks hot, and smiled gratefully at Mother Seak before remembering she couldn't see it.

"That sounds like a good idea," Zephira said. "How do we start?"

Seak shuffled on her tartan mat and beckoned Zephira closer with a withered white forepaw. "Show me your wing."

Nervously biting the inside of her cheek, Zephira stepped forward, not without an encouraging nudge from Domino. She heard Myst whisper "good luck" behind her, and felt a small jump of confidence. Her good wing trembling, she moved so close to Seak that her muzzle almost brushed the old dragoness's chest, and turned to bear her deformity.

A warm, gentle paw descended upon her ruined wing like the touch of a feather. Seak's blunted talons sought out every scar, every tattered piece of membrane, every stub of missing bone. Zephira tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it stayed stuck. She waited with baited breath for Mother Seak to speak.

A heavy sigh escaped the old dragoness. "I have witnessed many a horrendous injury in my years—the war made sure of that—but this…"

Zephira felt her heart sink.

"It is not the worst I have seen, no." Mother Seak's paw slipped away from Zephira's ruined wing. "But it is certainly among the most permanent—and the most devastating. Most dragons would never fly again from an injury such as this, but you…"

Holding her breath, Zephira gazed up into Seak's sightless, milky eyes and tried to brace herself for the verdict. For that moment, it felt as though her whole life hung on Mother Seak's next words.

"You are a child of the wind, and the wind never deserts her children."

* * *

Chasm was bored. He knew what he was supposed to do, but the rush of adrenaline from his first encounter with the panthers had long faded. What he was supposed to was boring. The panther twins wanted to know everything there was to know about the Council of Warfang, and that meant Chasm had to watch them and follow them for hours on end—without being seen. At least that part wasn't hard, but his attention waned after hardly an hour of watching Terrador pacing the battlements to check on the guards.

He had soon discovered that Cyril and Volteer were most commonly found at opposite ends of the library, pouring over dusty old scrolls and large books that looked more like slabs of stone to Chasm. Terrador was never far from the centre of the guard force, commonly seen at Seriphos's side or otherwise accompanying Thasos, who spent his days in central Warfang at the main hall, dealing with the enquiries of curious and worried citizens.

The other council members, Chasm soon realised, were rarely prominent figures outside of the council room. They spent their days going about their own business, common citizens of the great city. Nevertheless, Chasm had quickly mapped out their living quarters in his head, just in case.

Early that morning, Chasm had been sneaking towards the guardians' quarters as usual when he saw something not so usual. Mother Seak—the old blind council member rarely seen out in the streets—was being accompanied by the earth guardian towards the northern sector of the city. The old dragoness had always been slightly creepy to Chasm, but he rarely saw her away from the Academy and the young hatchlings that seemed to spawn around her feet.

Naturally, it was a simple decision to follow them.

Terrador led the old Mother—Chasm had never understood the title—to the Academy, which was less interesting than Chasm would have hoped. He lingered all the same, watching the guardian open the door for his old guest and guide her inside. Chasm had half a mind to leave when the door snapped shut again, but the thought of the disapproving looks on the panthers' faces decided otherwise. Grimacing, he waited a few moments before approaching and opening the door himself.

It opened with a dusty sigh. Chasm stepped into the empty corridor and paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. Vaguely, he could hear Terrador's heavy steps moving upstairs. On silent feet, Chasm crept after them. He stopped again at the base of the stairs as the guardian's voice drifted down to him.

"This is the room, Seak. It should be large enough for your purposes."

"There won't be much need for wide open spaces this time, Guardian Terrador," chuckled Seak's whispery voice. "The young dragoness will not be flying for quite some time."

"She will be disappointed to hear that."

Silence. Chasm crept onto the first step, silently begging it not to creak. It didn't. Suppressing a grin, he crept up a few more steps, listening hard.

"Yes, this is perfect," said Seak's voice, muffled slightly from within another room. "You will make sure Zephira is aware of our meeting place?"

"She will be informed," replied Terrador. Chasm's brow furrowed.

Zephira… She was that tiny white dragon that was friends with the purple freak. He remembered her clearly from the two confrontations they'd had. She'd run off in tears the last time, he recalled with a sort of grim satisfaction. Served her right for refusing to tell him where Spyro had disappeared to.

As far as Chasm could remember, Zephira had lost one of her wings in a panther attack. Why had old Seak mentioned flying? Despite himself, Chasm found his curiosity piqued. If they were going to attempt to teach a flightless dragon to fly again… He glanced at his own permanent injury, the maimed foreleg that had gifted him with an ungainly, lopsided gait. If a wingless dragon could fly again, perhaps there was hope for him too.

Chasm was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Terrador's heavy footsteps moving back towards him. His heart jumped into his throat and he scampered back down the stairs as silently as he could, ducking into an empty classroom. Crouching low behind the wall, he listened as the earth guardian's heavy-set figure passed by, almost shaking the corridor with every step. Within moments, the sound of his paw steps had faded.

Licking his dry lips, Chasm slipped out of the room and back up the stairs. A door just to the left of the stairs was ajar and, as he watched, it snapped shut ever so quietly. He was willing to bet his horns that Seak was in there. Instead of attempting to sneak a peak, however, he crept to the closest classroom across the hall and soundlessly opened the door. Blind or not, Seak had a strange ability to be able to know when someone was nearby, and Chasm wasn't game to test that out.

Curling his paws under him, he lay down on the dusty classroom floor and waited for Zephira.

By the time she arrived, Chasm was falling asleep. When he heard the sound of small paws outside, his head shot up and he peered through the crack that he had left between door and frame. A dainty white dragoness stood outside the room across the hall, two hatchlings at her side. Seak's voice hailed them before she'd even knocked, and Chasm was again struck with the thought that Seak was simply too creepy to be allowed.

The door opened to admit Zephira, and then closed again. Chasm grimaced and waited for as long as he could be bothered before he stood up and moved out into the corridor. He pressed the side of his head up against the door and listened, caring not about Seak's mysterious ability. Maybe she would be too distracted to notice.

"…the wind never deserts her children."

Chasm cocked an eyebrow.

"You mean…?" came Zephira's quiet, hopeful voice.

Seak sounded both pleased and proud when she replied, "Yes. You will fly again."

How could she possibly know that? Chasm couldn't help but feel sceptical. He had seen Zephira's mangled wing himself. It was nothing more than a useless scrap of scales and membrane. It wasn't just unsightly—it was worthless.

Slumping against the door, he continued listening, grimacing at the excited jabbering of one of the hatchlings Zephira had brought with her. She seemed to be trying to hush him with little effect and, despite himself, Chasm couldn't help but smirk. He wiped the smile off his face the moment he realised he was grinning.

"It won't be easy," Seak was saying, "but I will be with you every step of the way. You are as much my child as you are the wind's."

"Thank you…"

The corners of Chasm's mouth pulled down and the voices behind the doorway became distant fuzz for a moment. When was the last time someone had spoken to him in that way? With such motherly care…

The image of a dainty, leaf-green face swam before his mind's eye, a pair of concerned, warm eyes staring deep into his. He blinked and the image was gone, but the heaviness remained—a strange feeling, like rocks in his belly. So occupied with his thoughts, Chasm didn't hear Seak telling Zephira they would begin by recuperating the muscles around her wing, or the high-pitched voice of the male hatchling begging to be allowed to assist. He did, however, hear Mother Seak a moment later.

"But before we began, it would appear we have a guest at the door. Zephira?"

Chasm's head shot up and he scrambled away from the door in alarm. By the time it opened, he was already pelting down the stairs and into the corridor below. He never saw the confused look on Zephira's face as she watched his tail whip out of sight.

Dragons were beginning to appear in the streets when Chasm stepped out of the Academy, breathing heavily. The morning was no longer so early or cold, and most dragons were heading towards the Main Hall. Chasm didn't follow them. He wasn't sure what was spurring him on, but he allowed his footsteps to take him towards the northern housing district anyway.

Many minutes later, he found himself standing outside a squat sandstone building. It had a homely wooden door shaped like an arch that was almost uncomfortably familiar. Chasm shuffled his paws on the cobblestones, gazing at the flat face of the house. There was a single round window beside the door. The wooden shutters had not been opened yet.

His jaw clenched, Chasm approached the door and stood for a moment, staring at the grooves of the wood. It smelled like an old memory. He couldn't decide whether that memory was good or bad.

Scowling, Chasm turned away with a flick of his tail, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away from the door. With a stamp of his foot, he cursed himself and spun to face it again. He knocked twice, as loud as he dared, before he could stop himself.

Silence answered him. For a moment he was struck by the urge to run away, just as he had done back at the Academy. But the door swung open before he could act on that thought. A leaf-green dragoness appeared in the threshold, her hazel eyes staring over his head. Moments later, they slid down to meet his and she looked at him as though he was a ghost.

"Hey, Mum," was all he managed to say before she swept him into a hug.

* * *

"And he _actually_ gave you his sword?"

Terra smiled bemusedly at Mari and placed her paw on the hilt of the sword at her hip. "That's what I said. I was surprised too, I guess."

She glanced at the sword fondly and then looked up to find Mari looking at her with a knowing smile on her face. Inexplicably, Terra felt her cheeks grow hot. "What?"

"Nothing," Mari replied in a sing-song voice, linking her paws behind her back. They were currently walking along the riverside away from the village. Hunter and Cougar had stayed back to train with the rest of the cheetah warriors, who were preparing as usual for the next expected encounter with the panthers. Terra didn't like to think of it, but there was little choice in the matter.

"You're smiling weirdly," she said to Mari, who giggled and broke away from the riverbed.

"This way," she called over her shoulder, "there's a really nice herb garden nearby. I think you'll like it."

Shaking her head, Terra followed her cheetah friend, her heart lighter than it had been in as long as she could remember. The fresh, supple air of the Valley of Avalar was bliss compared to the hot winds of the Badlands, and she would have given an arm and a leg to feel the grass under her paws for the rest of her life. It was the life her brothers and tribe had always dreamed of. Her fur already felt lighter on her body than it ever had.

She followed Mari through the thickets of pine trees to a small clearing where the ground was dotted with low-growing plants of all shades of green. A mixture of subtle scents filled the air, and rays of sunlight streamed through the canopy to dapple the garden. Terra thought she'd never seen anything quite so serene.

"My mother used to tend to this garden when she was alive," Mari said, kneeling down to run her paw over one of the plants. It seemed to shiver at her touch.

"Your mother is…?" Terra left the question hanging, not daring to finish it. Mari didn't meet her eyes, but smiled sadly all the same.

"There were lots of causalities during the Dragon War," she said vaguely. She blinked and the glaze faded from her eyes, which regained their cheerful brightness in seconds. "I've been tending to the garden ever since."

"It must be special to you." Terra knelt down beside her and received a great whiff of minty scent from a nearby plant.

Mari turned her smile on the panther. "It is. It's what Mum left for me, and I'll do what I can to take care of it. Do you want to help me pick some?"

Only too pleased to help, Terra spent the next few minutes picking out the herbs that Mari pointed out to her, naming them as she went. The one she had smelled earlier was called, fittingly, mint. Terra decided she liked that one the most. It was a moment of bliss, surrounded by gentle scents and in the company of the one true friend she could ever remember having. For that moment, she hoped this—all of this—was what the rest of her life had in store for her.

"The good life suits you well, Terra."

It felt as though she had just fallen into icy water. Terra spun around, her heart leaping into her throat, and Mari uttered a tiny yelp of surprise. A dark cat was leaning against one of the trees at the edge of the herb garden, his arms crossed nonchalantly across his chest. Terra didn't need to see the bandage over his eye to know who it was.

Her mouth formed the word 'run' in Mari's direction, but she didn't get to say it before Skelos cut her off. "Before you scream or yell or run, or whatever you're planning, relax. I'm here to talk."

"You shouldn't be here at all!" Terra exclaimed, her voice catching. She had dropped all the herbs she had picked, and they scattered around her feet like green rain.

"How did you get this far?" Mari shot at him. She had a look on her face that suggested she was trying to look angry through her fear. It wasn't working well.

"Into the valley?" Skelos chuckled softly, pushing away from the tree trunk to stand straight. Terra tensed. "I'm a panther. You cheetahs can't keep an eye on every inch of this valley, and I'm rarely seen if I don't want to be."

"How many?" Terra growled, edging closer to Mari. She wished the cheetah would just run to the village, but she seemed routed to the spot.

"Just me." Skelos spread his arms in a gesture of surrender. He appeared unarmed.

"I doubt that," she scowled, kicking Mari's foot gently through the herbs. The cheetah jumped and looked at her, her eyes wide with fear.

"Go," Terra whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Mari hesitated.

"Now hold on," Skelos said, "don't go anywhere just yet. I can't let your cheetah friends know I'm here, can I? You know what they'd do."

Terra faltered, her eyes raking over his healing wounds from the battle at Warfang. Unarmed and injured, he was no match against any of the cheetahs at the village, let alone all of them at once. And she had no doubt that Chief Prowlus would have him killed on sight. She bit her lip. "What do you want, then?"

Skelos's gaze shifted from her to Mari and back again. "Your friend isn't going to run for help?"

The two of them exchanged glances, and Terra tried wordlessly to plead with her. To her relief, Mari seemed to understand and slowly shook her head. Her jaw was trembling.

"Only if you do something stupid," Terra told her brother, squeezing Mari's paw. Skelos seemed to relax.

"Good. Now then…" he fixed her with a steely gaze, "I've come to bring you back."

"No!" Mari exclaimed almost instantly, and covered her mouth with a paw as though surprised the outburst had come from her. Terra shot her a nervous look.

"Why?" she asked Skelos. "Why would you want me back? I'm a traitor to you."

"You're also my sister. I promised you a long time ago that I wouldn't desert you."

Terra couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She knew he was sincere, if only partly, and that only made it worse. "You already broke that promise."

"Terra…" he reached for her and she backed away, pulling Mari with her. The herbs crunched under their feet.

"I'm not going back with you, Skelos," Terra replied, her voice shaking. "You need to get out of here before anyone else finds out you're here. I'm not responsible for what they'll do to you."

"We are your family—your tribe!"

A shadow shifted in the trees behind him, and Terra's eyes caught it in the brief second it moved. Her breath froze in her throat and she pushed Mari in the direction of the village. "Not any more, Skelos. Go!"

Mari stumbled, shocked, but one look at Terra's face was enough to send her sprinting for the village. Skelos yelled and for a moment looked as though he was about to follow, but Terra moved before he could. She grabbed his arm as tightly as she dared and tried with all her strength to force him back against the tree trunk. He twisted in her grip and she felt his fingers close around her wrists before she found herself trapped face-first against the tree. Skelos pinned her arms behind her back and she felt his breath on her ear.

"You've never been strong enough to best me, Terra."

"Maybe…" she snarled against the tree trunk, trying to wrestle her hands away from his grip. "But I won't let you hurt anyone here!"

"I'm not here to hurt anyone," he reminded her, squeezing her wrist. "And I won't have to if you just come with me without a fight."

"Just let me go!" she demanded, wrenching at her arm. He released her fluidly and she spun around to face him, nursing her bruised wrist and sporting a glare. "I'm not coming. I'm not going back."

"Why are you doing this?" Skelos exclaimed, clenching his paws. Terra stared at him, noticing for the first time the frustration and confusion etched across his face. "Why do you insist on going against us? You're our flesh and blood! My sister!"

"Half-sister," she corrected quietly. She gazed into his one good eye with a kind of wistful sadness. "And what you're doing is wrong, Skelos. Why can't you see that?"

"Why can't I? Because what I'm doing is for the good of our tribe!" He slammed his paw into the tree trunk beside her head and she flinched. His good eye seared into hers with blazing intensity. "I'm doing what Father never could. I'm doing what our ancestors never could!"

"You're destroying lives! Father wouldn't want this!"

"Sacrifices have to be made! Don't pretend you don't know that! Don't pretend you knew Father better than me! You were nothing to him!"

A cold silence fell between them. Terra stared into the one visible eye of her half-brother, a bitter hatred festering in her gut. It was like ice and lava mixing together in her belly, freezing the breath in her lungs and turning her blood to fire. Skelos gaped soundlessly, his eye widening.

"I…I didn't mean…"

"No," Terra said, clenching her paws. "You're right. I was nothing to him. And I should be nothing to you."

"Terra—" Her fist met his cheek with considerable forcing, snapping his head to the send and sending him reeling backwards. Skelos gasped and clutched his jaw, and Terra rushed past him before he had a chance to recover. She only reached the other side of the herb garden before a dark shape appeared out of the trees and blocked her way.

"Sorry," said the raspy voice of Agra, the oldest of the Elite Guard, as he brandished his sword in her face. "I can't let you go further."

There was a familiar stave in his hand, and he tossed it to Skelos as he straightened up. Skelos caught it, still rubbing his jaw, his eye blazing. Terra took a step backwards.

"Sorry, Terra," said her brother, approaching from behind, "I came here to get you back. I'm not leaving without you."

Terra opened her mouth to reply, and the arrow shot out of nowhere. It skimmed past her cheek and clipped the tip of Skelos's ear before burying itself in a tree behind him. He stood stunned for but a moment, and in that moment two familiar cheetahs burst into the clearing.

"Back up, bud!" Cougar exclaimed, raising his massive javelin and directing it towards Agra, who parried with his sword even as he was forced back several steps.

"The next won't miss," Hunter warned, his next arrow pointed straight at Skelos's forehead. "I trust you'll believe me this time."

Skelos gritted his teeth in reply, but the grimace soon turned into an unpleasant smile. "Fine. If that's the way you'd rather play…"

Fire blazed to life on the head of his stave and Hunter dropped his arrow as he rolled out of the way. The fireball cut a path over his head and exploded against a tree, showering the herb garden with embers and splinters.

"No! Don't!" Terra heard a voice cry from the bushes, and she spun away from the battle to find Mari crouching in the shadows. The fire was reflected in her horrified eyes. Terra turned to run to her, but never got that far. A lithe, dark figure dropped to the ground in front of her and slammed her back-first into a tree. Nyx's face swam before her eyes.

"You!" Terra snarled, trying to wrench the assassin away from her throat.

"Sorry, pretty," Nyx purred, her yellow eyes glinting. "Orders from the Master. I can't let you go."

Another fireball lit the clearing in a haze of smoky orange, and Terra's eyes flicked sideways to see Mari with her hands over her mouth. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. The shriek of a sword being drawn from its sheath drew Terra's attention back to Hunter, and she watched helplessly as he charged her brother with his new blade raised.

Ice and fire met in a clash of steam, and both combatants parted as their weapons hissed and spat like angry snakes. Skelos gave Hunter an odd, searching look. "Where did you get that sword?"

Hunter smiled grimly, "That's irrelevant to you. What matters is that we're now on even ground."

Skelos glowered. "I doubt that very much."

Nearby, the clash of steel on steel rang through the clearing as Cougar and Agra followed the steps of one of the world's most dangerous dances. Their fur was slick with sweat, and Terra was left to marvel at how the stocky cheetah was able to keep pace with an Elite Guard. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't free herself from Nyx's hold.

"You're making it harder for yourself," the assassin whispered in her ear, her voice filled with dark amusement. Terra wished she could reach her sword, but her arms were pinned above her head and Nyx's dagger was at her throat. It was all she could do to watch Hunter and Skelos fight for their lives against each other. And, for the life of her, she didn't want either to lose.

"Please," she croaked. Nyx's grin only grew wider.

"Let…let her go!" Something slammed into Nyx's side, sending the panther reeling. Terra staggered as she was released, wheeling around to find Mari standing stunned with a large log clutched in her paws. She looked as though she could hardly believe what she'd just done.

"You…" Terra started, but didn't finish.

"Bitch!" Nyx screamed, clutching her ribs and raising her dagger with her free paw.

Neither Terra nor Mari had time to react before she charged them. Terra opened her mouth to tell Mari to run, but she didn't get the chance. Before she could form a single word, Nyx had plunged her dagger into Mari's stomach, just below the ribs. As she wrenched the blade out, bloodless, the cheetah crumpled without a sound.

Terra mouthed wordlessly. The sound of battle became little more than distant buzzing that throbbed in her head. A film of red had fallen over her eyes, and she could hear her own heart beating in her ears. Nyx turned, her eyes cold and satisfied, and made towards her. Terra almost didn't notice. All she could see was Mari. All she could see was her best friend, slumped and unmoving on the ground.

With a cry like a wounded animal, Terra threw herself at the assassin. She didn't even think to draw her sword. All she knew was that she wanted to hurt Nyx, to kill her, to make her feel pain unlike any she'd suffered before. Her claws tore into flesh and fur, and she didn't feel the blade that sliced into her shoulder. Her fist fell upon Nyx's face, again and again, and suddenly they were on the ground and her paw was at the assassin's throat.

Terra didn't hear herself yelling. Nyx struggled beneath her, her dagger knocked from her paw. Blood matted the dark fur of her face with every blow that Terra delivered. Her paws scrabbled at Terra's tunic, attempting desperately to throw her off. Terra hardly noticed.

Fire was blazing around them. A chorus of yells reached her from afar, and distantly she realised the cheetah tribe had at last come to help. The moment of distraction was all Nyx needed to throw her off. Terra landed hard on her back, fully expecting to feel cold steel at her throat at any moment. But Nyx rushed right past her, kicking broken herbs onto her face.

"Master Skelos, the cheetahs!"

Still feeling shell-shocked, Terra rolled onto hands and knees and stared at the chaos. Fires were burning all around them, and patches of ice littered the herb garden. Hunter stood with one hand on his side, blood oozing down his tunic, his sword held protectively in front of him. He was all there was between Terra and Skelos, who had blood running from a cut just below his collar bone.

A quiet gasp sounded from nearby, and Terra registered that the sound of steel clashing on steel had stopped. She turned, dazed, to see Agra on his knees amongst the herbs. Cougar's javelin was speared straight through his chest and out the other side. Blood bubbled on his lips.

"Sorry…Master…" the old assassin choked out. Terra closed her eyes as Cougar wrenched his weapon free. When she opened them again, Skelos was staring almost pleadingly at her. She stared soullessly back.

"What's your choice, Skelos?" Hunter said, standing strong despite his injury. Skelos took one more look at his opponent and wrenched himself away. Terra watched through glazed eyes as he and Nyx disappeared into the trees. Hunter sank to his knees.

Slowly, feeling numb, Terra turned and crawled to the limp form behind her. Mari's eyes were open and she was taking in shallow breaths, her paws trembling on her stomach. Terra could see blood blossoming over her tunic. Her paws shaking, Terra shifted until Mari's head was cradled in her lap. The cheetah's eyes, dry and disbelieving, sort out her own and held their gaze. Terra couldn't bring herself to look away.

"I'm sorry," she begged. Mari closed her eyes.

The next moments passed in a blur for Terra. She remembered the cheetah warriors bursting into the clearing, and how they had immediately moved to help Hunter and Cougar. She remembered them trying to take Mari from her, and how she had struggled and yelled until Hunter, despite his own wounds, had pried her away. She remembered being walked back to the cheetah village, flanked on both sides by burly warriors. They led her to a small hut and she sat for what seemed like hours in silence, her knees drawn to her chest. Her only company was a guard at the door. He didn't speak.

Eventually, Cougar appeared at the door and pushed the guard away.

"Captain Hunter wants to speak with her," was all he said. The guard stepped aside and Terra didn't resist when Cougar grabbed her paw and pulled her to her feet. She staggered after him, her eyes on the fresh bandage around his head. One of his ears was gone.

He led her to a larger hut near the centre of the village. Terra couldn't help noticing that a lot of cheetahs were gathered outside this hut, whispering curiously to each other as they wondered what had happened. Their whispers only increased as she and Cougar passed them and entered the hut. Inside, they found a number of cheetahs—mostly female—crowded around two beds on either side of the hut. A reed curtain blocked off another room to the left.

Hunter was sitting up in one of the beds, his tunic peeled off his chest and his ribs swathed in white bandage. His eyes fell on Terra the moment she walked in, and he gestured to her and Cougar. Terra tried to get a glimpse at the other bed, but there were too many cheetahs to see through. Biting her lip, she moved to Hunter's side.

"What…?"

"Mari is being tended to right now," Hunter said before she could say anything else. "The wound was small, but deep. It's lucky the healers were able to get to her so fast. She will live."

A great sense of relief washed over Terra and she sank onto the end of Hunter's bed, her heart thumping. His paw fell upon hers and she gazed up at him, wordlessly begging for forgiveness. There was no steel in his gaze.

"It wasn't your fault, Terra."

She couldn't bring herself to say anything. Hunter's gazed shifted to her shoulder and his brow furrowed.

"You're injured," he said, moving his paw to touch the blood-matted fur around the cut that Nyx's dagger had given her. Terra flinched away from his touch. "Sorry. Cougar, go get someone."

Cougar grunted in response. He left and returned in almost the same instant with a pale-furred female cheetah in a white tunic. Her kind brown eyes held an inkling of distrust when they fell upon Terra.

"What's the problem?" she asked, not unkindly. Terra couldn't speak, but she had no need to.

"My friend is wounded," said Hunter, and Terra felt a strange rush of warmth. _Friend_. "See what you can do about it."

The female cheetah nodded smartly, and moments later Terra's wound was cleaned and bandaged. She tried to thank the cheetah, but she waved her off and walked away. Terra sank back onto the bed, feeling guilty.

"If I hadn't…" she started to say, but Hunter grabbed her paw firmly.

"Don't," was all he said, and Terra couldn't help but nod. Silence fell between them, but it was not the uncomfortable kind. Terra gazed at Hunter's paw, still on top of hers. It was warm and protective in a way she had not experienced before. Hesitantly, she leaned closer until her shoulder was resting against his.

"It's not your fault," he repeated, sighing and closing his eyes. He sounded desperately like he was trying to convince someone else, and Terra couldn't understand why. But when the flap to the healer's hut flew open as though on an angry wind, she understood immediately.

"Where is she?" Prowlus snarled, his eyes blazing with anger. "Where is that blasted panther?"

Terra sank away, but Prowlus spotted her all too easily. Her black fur was stark amongst the honey-coloured cheetahs. Hunter pushed himself off the bed as the Chief stormed over, staggering as he placed weight on his wound. Terra clutched his paw, but he stood strong, placing himself between her and Prowlus like a living shield.

"You can't blame her, Prowlus."

The whole hut had gone silent. All eyes were on them, except for those few cheetahs still tending to Mari. Cougar stood to the side, his clenched paws shaking. He looked conflicted, as though he wasn't sure whose side he was on. Prowlus raised his paw and jabbed Hunter sharply in the chest, almost causing him to crumple back onto the bed.

"I can and I will," he said darkly. "Now step aside before you make a fool of yourself."

Hunter steadied himself slowly, his paw still firmly around Terra's, and met Prowlus's angry gaze evenly. "No. Find someone else to blame, Prowlus. This wasn't her fault."

"Then whose was it, _Captain_?" the chief snapped. "Yours? As I recall, it was your idea to keep her here. And look where it's got you!"

He gestured angrily at Hunter's wound and then pointed fiercely towards the other side of the hut, where Mari lay hidden behind a wall of cheetahs. "My best warriors are wounded and an innocent cheetah is on her death bed! This would not have happened if _she_ had not been here!"

Prowlus waved angrily in Terra's direction, and she sank further into the bed, her face white under her fur. Death bed…

"Mari will live," said Hunter fiercely, "and these wounds are nothing Cougar and I can't handle. They are little price to pay for ensuring the safety of one of our tribe."

"That panther is _not_ one of our tribe!"

"Then neither am I!"

A great hush fell over the hut following Hunter's outburst. Prowlus gazed in stunned anger at his captain. Terra could feel her heart thumping heavily in her chest, as though it was trying to break free. Was Hunter truly willing to go that far for her sake?

"You're speaking nonsense," said Chief Prowlus, but his voice no longer held the same edge. His eyes could not match the intensity in Hunter's.

"If the way of this tribe is to treat others unfairly because of race, then I will not be part of it." Hunter's words were final. Terra's eyes drifted towards Cougar, and he gave her a short, subtle nod. Her paw felt hot in Hunter's hold.

Prowlus stared at Hunter, his mouth forming words that would not come out. With a last contemptuous glance at Terra, he turned on his heel and strode out of the hut. The reed curtain flapped briefly behind him, and then he was gone. Hunter sank onto the bed and leant heavily against Terra's shoulder.

"That won't be the last time we hear of this," he warned her tiredly.

"But Prowlus lost a bit of face right there," said Cougar, shifting closer. "He won't be eager for another public argument like that."

"Perhaps," said Hunter. Terra felt his paw squeeze hers, but with the threat of Prowlus gone for the moment, her mind was full of only one thought. Her best friend was gravely injured, and she had caused it.

"Just let her be okay." She didn't realise she'd spoken aloud until Hunter pulled her into an awkward, one-armed hug. As he tried to form words of reassurance, all she could do was hide her face in his fur.

* * *

It had been sunset when Skelos, Nyx and Agra had left the grasslands, and it was sunset again when two of them returned. Most panthers gave them a wide birth, startled by Nyx's bloodied, bitter face, and the soulless look in Skelos's eyes. Only Skulk went to meet them. He and Nyx shared a short, emotionless look before she moved on.

No words were spoken between brothers as Skulk helped Skelos over to the boulder where they usually spent their nights. The wounded panther sank to the ground, his back against the rock, and stared up at the darkening sky. For some time, he said nothing and Skulk did not enquire.

Eventually, Skulk sat down beside his twin and crossed his legs. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

Skelos said nothing. He looked away from the sky and stared instead at his paws. The pads had been rubbed raw from the heat of his stave, which now lay on the ground beside him.

"You've always let your emotions get the better of you," Skulk continued, unperturbed by his silence. "Especially when we were younger. I thought you were getting over that."

Skelos closed his eyes. Memories came back to him, phantom images swimming before his mind's eye. He saw Terra as she was when she was younger—laughing, happy, doting on her older brother. He saw a white she-cat, out of place in the heat of the Badlands, but so beautiful in her contrast. He saw his father, a strong, kind-eyed panther who had always loved his subjects. Those memories felt as though they had come from another life.

That life was his no longer.

"I'm sorry," Skelos said, his voice raspy. "You were right. She is our sister no longer."

**A/N: Rushed as this chapter was, there's some important stuff here... Felt it was time to introduce Chasm's mum and another side of him. I've been wanting to de-objectify him for a while now. This chapter also marks Skelos' giving up on his sister, and a little more hinting to his backstory, which I will get into soon enough. Also, a little more Hunter/Terra stuff, because I can. And so begins Zephira's recuperation as well. Stuff is getting down to the sticky end with this story, and it's getting harder to write as it does, so bear with me. :P I just spent a month hardly writing at all, so I'm a bit rusty as well. xD**

**As usual, thanks so very very much to everyone who has reviewed. You make my day every time. :'] Until next time, thanks for reading~!**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Hey look, one of those stories that never updates is updating! Can I get a booyah? No? Anyone there? Come on, guys, it's only been 4 months. Seriously, I thought it had been longer. But I'm back, dudes, and the next update shouldn't take nearly so long.**

**Tonight on RD: Zephira reunites with a friend, the panthers begin the first phase of their new plan, Lumis tells his story, and a certain deadly instrument turns out to be not as deadly as first thought. Read on!**

**35.**

The house was exactly as he remembered it, but then it had only been six months since he had left. From underneath his mother's foreleg as she all but squeezed the air from his lungs, Chasm could see the dusty dirt-packed floor, the homely sandstone walls, and the large hessian rug in the middle of the room. He followed the line of the low wooden table upon it until he saw the round door on the far wall. Had _his_ room changed at all?

Chasm opened his mouth to tell his mum to let him go, but she seemed to read his mind. Her paws moved to his shoulders and suddenly he was being held at arms-length. She was staring at him so intensely he wondered how she hadn't already burned holes in his scales.

"You never came to visit," she said. Her paws tightened on his shoulders. "You said you would."

Chasm tried to keep his face impassive. He wasn't really sure what he felt; part of him wanted to roll his eyes, the rest wanted to sag with guilt. Why had he left home in the first place, anyway? It was like he had forgotten somewhere along the line.

"School's been…y'know, busy." He shrugged and wondered if she'd buy the excuse. He didn't really have a real reason.

Her lower jaw trembled, and Chasm braced himself. Before he could raise his paws to stop it, she'd dragged him into her chest again and resumed squeezing out the last of his breath. "Oh, Chazy."

That was it. That was enough. Chasm clamped his paws down on her forelegs and wrenched himself free with more ease than he had expected. "I told you not to call me that."

She only stared at him with doleful eyes. All of a sudden he didn't want to be here anymore. Why had he even come here?

"I just came to say hi." He didn't care how harsh the words sounded. His mother felt as brittle as old bones as he pried her paws away and stood up. "So. Hi."

He clamped his jaws shut and waited for her to say something. A greeting, a farewell, whatever; then he could just say goodbye and be out of this place. It didn't matter if he didn't get to see his old room again. It was just a dumb room; it wasn't even his anymore. He didn't want that room.

But she didn't say anything. She just sat very still and stared at him, and Chasm realised after a moment that the green of her scales was duller than he remembered. Maybe she'd even gotten thinner. She didn't look like his mother; more like a brittle statue carved in her likeness. One push would make her crumble.

"Why are you upset?"

"Huh?" Chasm stared and his mother stared back. She looked almost worried. There was the motherly concern he remembered. "I'm not…?"

It came out like a question and he shifted uncomfortably. What was she seeing that he wasn't?

"There's a little crease between your eyes. I know that look; you had it even when you were a hatchling." She took a tiny step closer and raised a paw as though to reach for him. Chasm automatically shrank back and she stopped. "What's wrong, Chazy?"

"There's _nothing_…" He clenched his jaw and looked away. As if he could ever tell her what was on his mind. How he was planning revenge on the purple dragon. How he was working with the panthers. How he had felt that strange spark of jealousy when he had seen Zephira with Seak. How he was so confused.

"Did you get in another fight?" Her voice trembled.

Chasm scowled. He remembered lying broken in the infirmary, screaming at the moles not to let his mother into the room. The guardians had sent for her the moment he'd been brought in. If only he'd been conscious; he could have stopped them. She would never have to know. At least she hadn't seen him like that; the only contact they'd had was a few words exchanged through the closed door. He remembered her sobs.

"No."

Silence fell. Chasm counted the seconds until he reached twenty, and then stood up to leave. His mother's next words stopped him. "Are you afraid?"

"Of what?"

"The…the war…" Her voice shook again, and he realised she was the one afraid. Had she been holed up here all alone during the battle, fearing for her life? Fearing for his?

"I'm not scared," he said. Somewhere inside, he felt a familiar spark of defiance. "I can take care of myself."

Her face fell, but then she smiled strangely. It was the sort of smile that said 'I know better'. It was the sort of smile that should have been reassuring, but it only made Chasm's blood boil. He _wasn't_ afraid.

"You can stay here ag—"

"No!" He stamped a paw and felt the dirt shift around his claws. Something writhed inside him, a beast trying to break free. Why was he here? Why had he even come back to see her? He should have expected something like this. "Do you know why I left home? Do you?"

She recoiled and opened her mouth, but Chasm didn't want her to speak.

"It's because of this! Always this! You're coddling me! You treat me like…like I'm still a hatchling! I'm not! I'm _not_!" He stamped his other paw and almost overbalanced. In his anger, he'd forgotten about his lame leg. Rage filled him like white-hot fire. "I don't need you to take care of me! I'm not a hatchling; I'm stronger than you, taller than you, smarter than you!"

He was almost nose-to-nose with her now; those brown eyes filled him with anger. "I _can_ take care of myself, and soon this whole damn city is going to know it!"

He spun away with a violent flick of his tail and threw the door open. It struck the wall with a muted thud and he stalked out into the streets without giving his mother a chance to say a word. He didn't care what she had to say; he didn't need a mother. She was nothing more than a burden. What would she know, anyway?

If she had called after him, he didn't hear it.

It was only when he was several streets away that the anger ebbed and was replaced with a cold spike of dread. He shouldn't have said that to her. The whole city? Would she understand what he had meant? Would she realise he was a traitor to Warfang?

Chasm gritted his teeth and stopped at the entrance to the main street of the northern district. Dragons moved past without giving him more than a fleeting glance. No, he had nothing to worry about. Even if she did wonder, his mother was a recluse. She always had been. She never left the house, and she would never tell anyone even if she knew. Besides, she would never believe her precious son was a traitor even if the truth was staring her in the face.

Trying to banish the image of her sad eyes from his thoughts, Chasm turned away from the busy street and headed for a certain tiny alleyway that no one ever used. He liked to think of it as 'the entrance to the underground.' Once he was under the city, no one would be able to see him, let alone stop him, sneak off to the panthers. There were some marvellous perks to being an earth dragon, if only one knew how to use them.

* * *

Wind whistled in his ears, teasing his fur with gentle fingers. The rock was warm and coarse through his tunic, and the faint scent of campfire smoke lingered in the air. Somewhere nearby, a Death Hound snarled and another replied with a guttural bark. There was darkness behind his eyelids; the sort of roiling darkness than was never quite black and never quite still. Then a face flashed in his mind's eye; a female cheetah with wide, frightened eyes.

Orpheus groaned and slapped a paw to his face, opening his eyes. He squinted as the glare faded and the grasslands came back into focus.

"Silence, Orpheus," said a voice beside him. "Meditation requires silence."

"I can't _do_ it." Orpheus rubbed his face. If only he could banish that image from his mind. "I just keep thinking…"

'_About her.'_

"Meditation is about _not_ thinking."

"I know!" He glared at Silt, but the older panther still had his eyes closed. He sat rigidly on top of a large boulder, legs crossed, and only his fur moved with the wind. Orpheus wished he had that kind of discipline. "I can't do it."

Silt sighed and at last cracked open an eye, his posture slumping a little. "You can't if you won't try."

"I _am_ trying."

"Then try _again_." Silt closed his eyes, straightened his back, and once more became rigid.

Orpheus glared at him until he no longer felt like hitting something. He tried to copy Silt's posture, but the stone hurt his legs and his back ached after only a minute. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw was that face. That stupid, terrified face. The face that reminded him of his weakness.

He didn't realise he'd sighed aloud until Silt echoed it and spoke. "I can only help you if you're willing to help yourself."

"I _am_—!"

"You aren't!" Silt's glare could have melted ice. "You asked for my help to become a true Elite Guard, but you aren't even trying! You have the body and the skills, but you lack the mind!"

Orpheus shied away, expecting Silt to jab his forehead like Erebos would, but all he got was a frustrated look. He rubbed his forehead anyway; it was almost possible to feel the sharp jab of his brother's talons as he was once again reminded that he wasn't fit to be an assassin. He didn't think like the Elite Guard.

The other Elite wouldn't have let that cheetah live.

Orpheus bit his lip. Why couldn't he stop thinking about that? The sooner he put in behind him, the sooner he'd be able to move on—and the sooner he'd be able to become the assassin that was expected of him.

"Fine," Silt said when Orpheus didn't respond. He slipped off the boulder and landed neatly in the tall grass, reaching over his shoulder for the hilt of his rapier. "Get down here. Clearly you need a more direct approach."

It wasn't hard to guess what was coming. Orpheus grimaced as he jumped off the boulder and retrieved his sword-staff, which had been propped up against the rock. When was the last time he'd had a friendly sparring match? He couldn't remember, but he had a feeling this would be anything but friendly. There was no way he could outmatch the leader of the Elite Guard.

Silt drew his rapier and pointed it straight at Orpheus's chest. "For the next ten minutes, I am your enemy. Treat me as you would any cheetah. No mercy."

"But…"

"No. Mercy."

Orpheus would have argued again, but suddenly there was a sword coming towards his neck. There was no time to cry out; he just forced his body to the side and pushed the blade away with the wood of his sword-staff. Silt recovered quicker than the eye could follow, and Orpheus found himself being forced back. The rapier came at him like an angry wasp, jabbing from every direction so quickly it was as though there was more than one. It was all he could do to duck and weave and avoid certain impalement.

Suddenly, something swept his legs out from under him and he let out a cry of alarm as the rapier filled his vision. He tipped backwards. The ground met him with a harsh thud, and all the air rushed from his lungs. A glint of silver rushed towards him and he jerked his arm upwards in panic. The rapier glanced off the top blade of his sword-staff and he rolled sideways, sweeping his weapon wide and low.

It caught something a glancing blow, and suddenly Silt was on one knee in front of him. The rapier was speeding straight towards his eye. Orpheus brought his sword-staff up and knocked the blade away. In almost the same movement, he swung his free hand forward, fist clenched. It connected with Silt's face with a painful thud that rattled through his knuckles.

Pain exploded in his stomach so suddenly that Orpheus gasped and crumpled, clutching at his middle. His head hit the ground and grass filled his vision. Panicked, he gasped desperately for breath, but the air refused to come. Had he been stabbed? But the fierce ache in his stomach was ebbing and there was no wetness under his paws. It had been a blunt force; enough to force all the breath out of his lungs but not to break the skin. Silt had kicked him.

"Good," said his mentor's voice from somewhere above him. "I didn't think you'd have the guts to land a hit. I'll feel that for a few days."

Orpheus groaned and pushed himself up, blinking until his vision came back into focus. His stomach ached as he got to his knees. Silt stood beside him, rapier in one hand and Orpheus's sword-staff in the other. Orpheus accepted it sheepishly as it was offered. There was blood in the corner of Silt's mouth; only a tiny smear, but enough to remind him that he'd punched his new mentor in the face.

At least Silt seemed pleased.

"What was that supposed to prove?" Orpheus muttered, leaning against the boulder and catching his breath. That was the last time he wanted to be kicked in the stomach.

"That you have the mindset to hurt and kill your enemies." Silt sheathed his rapier. "We're not done yet. Remember: an assassin never leaves his enemies alive."

He'd already failed that then. Orpheus grimaced and looked away, just in time to see Masters Skulk and Skelos approaching. Rearranging his expression, Orpheus straightened his posture and tried not to let his sudden rush of panic show on his features. Skulk and Skelos only ever approached them personally if there was something important they needed done.

"Silt, Orpheus," Skulk barked, and Orpheus almost flinched. "Listen close. We've got a new assignment for the Elite Guard. And I assure you, it's of the utmost importance…"

By the time Master Skulk had finished talking, Orpheus wished Silt had kicked him harder. But he doubted even a ruptured gut would have excused him from this mission.

* * *

Stretch out. Pull in. Stretch out. Pull in. Stretch—Zephira winced as a sharp twinge shot down the length of her mangled wing and into her shoulder. A few days had passed since she had begun flight training with Mother Seak. At the moment, they seemed more like therapy lessons. Her first 'assignment', as Seak had called it, was to strengthen the muscles in her back and shoulder that had withered in the wake of weeks of disuse. Just stretching out her damaged wing was hard enough, and keeping it stretched out was nigh on impossible.

Mother Seak had warned her not to push it, so the moment she felt that sharp pain Zephira knew it was time to stop. The morning was swiftly drawing to a close, after all, and she still hadn't had breakfast. Myst and Domino had gone with Selador to the Main Hall, but Zephira had decided to stay behind and complete her morning exercises in private.

It was hard enough without Domino whining about how _boring_ it all was.

Stepping carefully over the messy bed of cushions that she and Myst shared at night, Zephira headed through the curtained doorway and into the main room of Selador's house. The first thing she noticed was a wooden bowl on the low table. It was filled almost to the brim with tea that was surely cold by now. Zephira grimaced and sat down on a cushion to sip it.

"Should have told me she'd made tea…" she mumbled to herself after downing a mouthful. It was lukewarm, at least, but extra bitter. Her stomach growled, unappeased. Maybe Selador and the hatchlings were still at the Main Hall; if she hurried, she might be able to catch them there before the early lunchtime rush.

Zephira drained the last of her tea in one gulp and grimaced at the bitter aftertaste. Just as she stood up to leave the door crashed open, startling her so badly that she knocked the bowl off the table.

"ZephiZephiZephiZephi!" Something barrelled into her side as she bent down to pick the bowl up and knocked her onto her haunches.

"Domino!"

The black-and-white hatchling rolled off her and jumped to his feet in a single fluid movement. Zephira picked herself up slowly, but Domino was already trying to drag her towards the door. His teeth clamped down on her tailblade and he pulled—but Zephira was twice his size and didn't move an inch. She cast the hatchling an exasperated look.

"What's got you so excited?"

"They're baaack!" Domino whined, pulling her tail with his paws instead.

"There's someone who wants to see you, Zephira," Selador called from the hallway, and Zephira looked up in time to see her enter.

"Who?"

Selador beckoned with her tail. "You'll see."

Domino let her go and bounced back down the hall to where Myst was waiting in the doorway. Zephira followed at Selador's side, cycling possibilities through her mind. For one brief, wild moment she wondered if Spyro and the others had returned. It had been a few weeks, after all, but she had no knowledge of where the White Isle was and what might have befallen them on the way. When she turned to Selador to ask, she was met instead with a large spiky fruit held in the older dragoness's tail.

"Thought you might be hungry." Selador winked.

"Dragonfruit?" Zephira cautiously took the fruit in her own tail. "This is a delicacy. Where did you…?"

"Oh, you know those moles…" Selador grinned the sort of mischievous grin that reminded Zephira of her brother. "They see a pretty dragoness like me and they fall over each other trying to impress her."

Zephira didn't try to hide her smirk. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Myst, would it?"

Selador pulled a face. "You're far too perceptive. It's true, though. They see a little blind hatchling and can't help but bury her under impromptu gifts."

"The moles are very generous," Zephira agreed as they left the house. She watched Myst, who was playing a game of blind tag with Domino. He had his eyes closed, as per the rules of his invented game.

"Too generous. We're lucky our little Myst has more sense than others her age, or she'd have a head as big as Cyril's by now."

Zephira giggled. As she carefully peeled the spiky skin of the dragonfruit, she remembered what she'd been going to ask Selador in the first place. A rush of excitement bubbled through her, and she abandoned the exotic fruit for a moment. "Are Saffron and Spyro…?"

Selador's expression said it all before she even finished her question. Zephira felt her excitement leak out of her in a steady stream. "Oh."

"I'm sorry, Zephira, I forgot for a moment that…" Selador shook her head. "I'm sure they'll return in due time. But there's someone else who _is_ here, and I'm sure you'll be happy to see them."

Zephira nodded glumly, wishing she hadn't gotten her hopes up. The sweet yet tangy taste of the dragonfruit lightened her spirits a little, at least. By the time they reached the Atrium, she already had a good idea who was waiting for her. She still smiled when she saw the familiar figures standing on the steps of the Atrium, though. Passing her dragonfruit skin to Domino, who apparently had a taste for the odd leathery peel, Zephira hurried up the steps.

"Terra!"

The panther turned, and her face broke into a smile. Zephira thought she looked healthier than she ever had during her stay in Warfang. Her dark fur was sleeker and shiner than it had been before, an image ruined only by the stark white bandage around her shoulder. Zephira slowed to a walk once she reached the tops of the steps and Terra knelt to greet her.

"It's good to see you again," Zephira said, touching her muzzle to Terra's arm in a gesture of friendship. "What happened to your shoulder?"

Terra raised a paw to the bandage, and Zephira saw that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "An…attack. It's fine, don't worry. It's good to see you too."

Zephira smiled weakly, but didn't quite believe Terra's words. The bandage might have been small, but the look in the panther's eyes suggested something worse than what she was letting on. She glanced around the platform in front of the door to the Atrium; Hunter stood nearby, leaning against the wall.

"Where's Mari?" Zephira frowned.

The strained look on Terra's face grew even more pronounced. "She's…she's in the infirmary."

It was as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water straight into her veins. A shiver coursed down her spine, and Zephira felt her mouth go dry. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," Hunter cut in suddenly, pushing away from the wall and moving to Terra's side. He offered her his paw and pulled her back to her feet. Zephira was relieved to see he didn't look quite so strained as Terra, but there was still a steeliness to his eyes that unnerved her.

"We'd have left her in Avalar," he said, smiling slightly, "but she insisted on coming too. And since the healers here are more advanced, we didn't find much room to argue. Cougar carried her the whole way."

Terra giggled slightly, but it sounded weak to Zephira's ears. What had happened that had done this to her? Before she had left Warfang, she had been stressed but determined in the wake of the battle. Now it seemed as though her spirit had snapped.

"What happened?" Zephira asked.

Hunter shook his head. "There was an attack at Avalar a few days ago. I'd tell you more, but it looks like the Guardians are here. Why don't you head to the infirmary with her, Terra? You can fill her in, if you wish."

Terra nodded, and Zephira turned to see the Guardians were indeed approaching. Terrador had stopped to talk to Selador, who had been waiting at the base of the steps with Myst and Domino. The two earth dragons dipped their heads to each other and started up the steps together, avoiding the scampering forms of the hatchlings. Thasos ushered Myst and Domino to the side and guided them towards Zephira.

"I'll take them with us, then?" She posed the question more to Selador than to Terra, but both of them nodded regardless. Zephira smiled and pulled Myst to her side. "Alright."

With Terra trailing behind, Zephira followed the ever-excitable Domino down the steps. She glanced back in time to see Hunter, Selador and the Guardians disappear into the Atrium. Whatever Hunter was here to discuss, she doubted it was good news.

For a moment the four of them walked in silence as Zephira traced the uncomfortably familiar path to the infirmary. Normally she found silence between friends to be comfortable at the very least, but Terra seemed to radiate discomfort in waves. The still-distrusting glances from dragons they passed didn't help matters. After a few minutes, Zephira couldn't take it any longer.

"So, what happened?" she asked. The words came out sharper than she intended, but Terra didn't seem to notice.

"My brother came for me," she murmured, so quietly that Zephira almost didn't hear.

Something hot sparked between her eyes, and Zephira saw that hated face again—the face she had seen in the final moments of her brother's life. She missed a step and stumbled into Myst, who squeaked and braced herself. Blushing, Zephira quickly straightened herself. "Oh…oh."

Terra took a shaky breath and suddenly words began to pour from her mouth, thick and fast. Zephira gaped at her, open-mouthed, as their walk slowed to a crawl. The full story came out in a rush, tinted so harshly with Terra's guilt that Zephira felt it right to her core. Even Domino had doubled back to listen, and his jaw was set in a way that made Zephira think of his brother.

By the time she was done, Terra's voice had been reduced to a croak and her eyes were rimmed with red. She looked away from Zephira. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to ramble like that."

"It's fine." Zephira gazed at the panther as she rubbed her eyes, and wondered how she'd ever seen her as a monster. Terra wasn't anything like her brothers; it had taken her long enough to realise that, but now it was all too obvious. For a brief moment she wondered if there were other panthers out there who thought like her; who questioned their motives but were trapped by the deadly will of their leaders.

"We're your friends," Zephira said after a moment, and was rewarded with a smile. "You can tell us anything. And Hunter said it wasn't your fault, right? I agree with him. You're not like them."

Terra's shoulders seemed to droop, and she whispered something that Zephira had to strain to make out. "Skelos wasn't always like that."

Zephira didn't know what to say to that, so she stayed silent. The infirmary loomed ahead, offering welcome relief from awkward and grim conversation. Nothing more was said as they entered the cool hallway and were led by a mole to a small room on the left. Inside was Cougar, leaning on the window sill, and Mari, propped up against a wall across two tiny beds that were clearly meant for moles.

"Zeph!" she cried the moment Zephira stepped into the room. She sat up quickly and winced, holding an arm around her midriff. Through a tear in her sky-blue tunic, Zephira could see the coarse white of bandages.

"Welcome back to Warfang," she replied. The smile felt strained and fake on her face. She could only be glad that the cheetah hadn't been hurt worse. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine." Mari waved a paw and pulled a face as Terra entered the room. "I guess Terra told you everything? I hope she left out the part where she believes it was her fault."

Zephira felt her smile relax a little. "Not quite. But I don't believe it."

"That makes most of us," Cougar added, offering Zephira and the hatchlings a little wave. He looked at Terra. "Except you and Sir javelin-up-his-butt Prowlus."

Domino snickered, but Zephira frowned. "Chief Prowlus blames her?"

"You know Prowlus." Cougar shrugged. "Always playing the blame game. Guess you weren't there when he chained Spyro up for what Malefor did."

"He _what_?"

"I should probably mention he chained Hunter up too. Y'know, for helping."

"Well, he's not much of a chief, is he?" Zephira muttered.

"I'm sure he does what's best for his tribe," Terra cut in, her voice strained. "You shouldn't talk about your chief like that, Cougar."

"If I don't, who will?"

This time Mari joined Domino's giggle fit, and Zephira couldn't help the grin that slid onto her face. Terra just looked awkward, and Myst, still pressed to Zephira's side, didn't say a word. When the moment had passed, Zephira decided it was high time to ask the question.

"So what are you all doing back here?"

Cougar sat up straighter. "Terra told you everything that happened, right? Well, Hunter thinks it's time we stop playing defence and take the fight to the panthers. He's probably briefing your Guardians right now."

Zephira gaped. "You mean… Go to them? Fight them outside of Warfang?"

"Before they strike you again," Cougar grimaced, "or us. Even Prowlus agreed. He's back in Avalar getting the troops ready; he'll probably be here sometime tonight. It's time we end this war, and we might as well do it on our own terms."

One look at Terra and Zephira knew she didn't like the idea. She couldn't blame her. The panthers were her family; her species. Defending a city from them was one thing, but to attack them outright? Zephira couldn't imagine she'd ever be able to do it; to fight her own family, regardless of the circumstances. She hugged Myst a little tighter with her wing.

"I suppose you're right," she said. If only Spyro and the others were back. They would give them the edge they might need to win; to drive the panthers away for good. But there was still time. Perhaps they'd pull a daring, last-minute attack and save the day when all seemed lost. That seemed the thing. Her brother would have liked to do that.

"Hopefully your Guardians agree," said Cougar.

Zephira had no doubt that they would.

* * *

It was a chilly early morning, with the glow of dawn only a sliver on the horizon and the street torches still burning brightly. Volteer walked the familiar streets towards the library; a journey he could take blindfolded, he had no doubt. The previous day had brought half the cheetah village back to Warfang, and new plans had begun to be laid. Soon enough they'd take the offensive and drive the panthers back to the Badlands—or to their dooms.

It had been a stressful evening after Prowlus's arrival, and Volteer's slumber had been punctuated by the numerous thoughts still pounding away at his head. When the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon, he had been only too eager to walk his usual path to the library. A morning of quiet study and reading could do wonders for the mind. It was just the thing to settle those last inklings of stress still left over from the previous evening's revelations.

No doubt Cyril was still tucked in, snoring away as he most obnoxiously did every night. To think that he had once shared a room with the pompous ice dragon—it was a wonder he'd ever gotten any sleep. Volteer chuckled to himself as an image crossed his mind—Cyril stretched out on his back across a cushion, mouth open and snoring uproariously. He was certain the only one he'd ever heard snore louder was that garrulous dragonfly.

Who knew that a creature so small could make such noise?

The morning was always so quiet at this time. Volteer couldn't help humming a jaunty tune to warm up his vocal cords as he hurried on to the library. If he hurried, there was a chance he'd be able to finish his studies on the element of electricity and disprove that silly legend before the sun came up. Some dragons had once suspected electricity to be a created element rather than one of the natural five—or natural _four_ as they had been known back then. It was simply unthinkable.

Legends claimed there were five ancestors. Five ancestors; five elements. It really was quite simple. And electricity was most definitely _not_ inferior.

Volteer clicked his tongue and rounded the corner. He could see the library at the far end of the street, and quickened his pace. The sooner he could disprove that silly rumour, the better. If Cyril ever discovered it—well, he'd never hear the end of it.

At that moment, something very odd happened. A strange feeling washed over his scales and prickled at the back of his neck, and something—whatever it was—convinced him to stop. And so he did, turning his head and frowning into the darkness of a side street. Volteer had never been scared of the dark, even as a hatchling, and he found his early morning walks more calm than spooky. But all the same, staring down that side street made his scales crawl.

Something was watching. The moment he considered such a thing, he reprimanded himself. He was not one to believe in ghosts. Spirits, certainly. But they were a different anomaly entirely. _Ghosts_—now, they were something Cyril would believe in. The ghosts of famous ice dragons from centuries passed, returning to claim revenge for…

A _twang_ echoed in the silence, and pain exploded in his side. Volteer staggered against the wall with a soundless gasp, his voice robbed from him by agony. His vision blurred and a sense of panic gave him the adrenaline he needed to snap back to his senses. There was a metal crossbow bolt embedded just behind his shoulder; he could feel it scraping against the bone. Nausea joined the pain already running through his system, but Volteer pushed them both to the back of his mind.

He staggered away from the wall and caught his balance, sucking in a deep breath in a vain attempt to quell the pain. In one swift movement, he spun around and spat a bolt of electricity into the darkness. A lithe dark figure fell to the ground, writhing as electricity sparked over its body. Volteer snarled.

"Fiends! Be gone from this city or be gone from this life!" More voltage sparked in his jaws, but something leapt onto his hindquarters and he wheeled around, firing into thin air. The electricity dissipated into the darkness as Volteer lashed out with one wing, sending his assailant tumbling to the cobblestones.

In the light of the street torches, he saw exactly what he had expected to see. A panther.

How _dare_ they assault him? On his morning walk no less!

Volteer swept the groaning panther into a wall with a deft flick of his tail, and spun around in time to see two others leaping for him. He caught one with his horns and threw him into a wooden crate, but the other grabbed his wing and swung onto his back. He felt claws tear into his scales at the back of his neck. Not bothering to hold back a roar, Volteer reared onto his hind legs.

The panther clutched at his neck but slipped and fell heavily near Volteer's tail. A flick of said tail sent him flying. Pain stabbed into the base of his neck, and Volteer cried out. He smacked the offending panther away with a paw and winced as another slashed at his tail. He was surrounded in the dark.

"I'll not be brought down by such felons as you!"

Drawing into himself, Volteer coaxed forth energy the likes of which he hadn't used since the days of the Dark Master's rule. What would Cyril think if he saw him now? Voltage crackled on the edges of his scales and the panthers were closing in; he couldn't hold it any longer.

Volteer opened his mouth in a soundless roar as he let his electricity free. The night was lit with raw blinding power as a thunder-crack rent the air. His fury melted away, but the air remained charged with the remnants of static. He sat down heavily, his breath gone.

"Good…good gracious," Volteer gasped, looking around at the empty street. The panthers were gone. "…I sounded like Cyril. Felons indeed."

So saying, he slumped to the ground and lay quite still, chest heaving for breath. He thought he heard thundering pawsteps and distant exclamations, but they faded as quickly as his blurring vision. Perhaps he would sleep in this morning after all.

* * *

"…teer… Volteer! Oh, do wake up, you old fool!"

Volteer cracked open an eye and found his immediate surroundings were a little blurry. He blinked a few times, wondered why his mouth was so dry, and looked up into Cyril's worried face.

"Goodness gracious, did I sleep in?" Volteer raised his head and eyed the window. Bright morning sunlight was streaming through onto his cushions and making the white walls glare something awful. Only then did he realise he was not in his room.

"Not so, I'm afraid," Cyril said, sounding less than impressed. What had twisted his tail?

A twinge of pain flared in his side, and Volteer winced. He craned his head and was met with the sight of a large white bandage around his ribcage. There was another around his tail, and the back of his neck felt stiff and sore. "Ah. It seems I momentarily forgot my brush with death. I take it we're in the infirmary at present?"

"Naturally." Cyril scowled. "Terrador will be here in a moment. He and Thasos went to disperse the crowd. You caused quite a ruckus with that fury. Half the city is mingling outside this damned infirmary, waiting to hear news of your untimely demise."

"Or miraculous recovery," Volteer put forward, smiling despite the ache in his side. It had been quite some time since he had found himself laid low by an injury, but it was not an unfamiliar occurrence.

"So it would seem." Cyril looked away and cleared his throat awkwardly. For a moment he was silent. Then, "You should really be more careful. Why, if I hadn't been heading for the library at that very moment… Well, I shudder to think."

Volteer opened his mouth to express surprise that Cyril had also been library-bound that morning, but the door swung open and he never got the chance. Terrador strode in looking very grim indeed, followed by a concerned Thasos. Both seemed to relax a little when they saw Volteer.

"Salutations and good mornings to you both!" he chimed.

"Would that it were better, Volteer," Terrador grunted. "Though it is good to see you awake. You almost had us fearing the worst."

"Oh, hogwash, Terrador." Volteer waved a paw. "A little grievance like this never got a Guardian down. I'll be fit as a fiddle again in no time. But what exactly happened?"

He looked brightly from one Guardian to the next, but all three of them returned his gaze with grim eyes. Terrador was the one who spoke. "We were hoping you could tell us that."

"I was on my way to the library when the sky was suddenly lit by electricity. Quite a sight, I must say," Cyril said. "You can imagine my surprise. When I hurried there, I found you passed out on the cobblestones with this great big arrow stuck in your side. Naturally, I brought you right here. There was quite a crowd by that stage, I must say."

Volteer flicked his tail and winced as pain travelled up its length. "Well it appears I ran afoul of a number of not-so-friendly _Panthera Pardus_. They had me quite outnumbered."

"Panthers in the city?" Thasos echoed, exchanging a grim glance with Terrador. "Again?"

"Seems they're getting bold again; perhaps we'll have to move sooner than we thought," Terrador added. He looked intensely at Volteer. "But what happened to them? Cyril claimed there was no sign of them when he found you."

"They must have fled," Volteer assumed. "That, or they were vaporised in my final attack."

"Unlikely," Cyril muttered. "Barbaric as your element may me, it's not _that_ powerful."

"Perhaps they saw the signs of a fury and fled before it could hit them," Thasos suggested. "Nothing else could explain why none of them were at least struck down by it."

"What I do not understand," Cyril said, "is _why_. Why Volteer? Why at that very moment did they choose to attack him?"

"I should think it obvious, Cyril," Volteer pointed out, feeling very important suddenly. Smiling at the reluctant confusion on the Ice Guardian's face, he sat up a little. "We are _Guardians_. De facto leaders of the city, if you will. If there's anyone our assailants would target, why not us?"

"Volteer has a point," Terrador agreed. "But what disturbs me is how they knew he would be there, alone, on that particular street before the crack of dawn. It seems almost too coincidental."

A mole scurried into the room suddenly, bowing and apologising under his breath as he deposited a large red gem at Volteer's paws. Still bowing profusely, he scuttled out of the room again and left the Guardians in momentary silence. Volteer took the gem and watched it melt like liquid into his paw. Calming warmth spread through his body, up his neck, and all the way down to the tip of his tail. The ache in his side receded.

"But, Terrador," he said at last, "I always walk that particular path in the early hours of the morning."

"And you have done so for months without incident." Terrador's eyes were shining like they always did when he thought he was on to something. "And the panthers cannot have known that. _Yet_, it seems as though they were waiting for you."

"What are you getting at?" Cyril frowned.

"You can't surely be suggesting that there is a spy in our midst?" Thasos said, looking aghast. "A spy who knows our habits, no less?"

"Perhaps I am," Terrador said grimly. "If it is so, and if the panthers are trying a new tact, all of us may be in danger. Open warfare did not work in their favour. Perhaps now they are resorting to underhanded trickery and assassination."

"I wouldn't put it past them," said Cyril, his expression darkening. "It is where all this began, after all."

A short silence prevailed in which Volteer tested his wounds and slowly sat up. He nodded to Terrador, and the Earth Guardian's jaw set like it always did when he was considering battle. This was his element as much as the earth that he commanded.

"Fetch Prowlus and Hunter," he said, turning to Thasos. "It's time we moved those plans forward. Volteer, can you walk?"

Volteer unsteadily got to his feet. He could feel Cyril hovering at his shoulder, waiting to support him should he stumble. Not that he would give the Ice Guardian such satisfaction. He would boast for hours about how he'd had to carry his wounded comrade all the way to the infirmary and then back to their quarters. It would be simply insufferable.

"Not healed entirely, Terrador, but I'll make it," he announced, standing steady.

"Good." Terrador nodded to Thasos. "We meet at our quarters. Be swift."

Thasos bowed his head and was gone in a moment. The other three guardians followed suit, ignoring the protests of the moles. Volteer waved to them merrily as they left.

* * *

On the rocky plains south-west of Concurrent Skies, Spyro at last decided it was safe to stop and rest. Night had fallen during the time they had spent at Cynder's old fortress, but adrenaline was still pumping through Spyro's veins; it would be a while before he felt tired. He alighted on a particularly flat rock and let his aching wings finally fold. They'd carried him for long enough. When all of this was over, he wouldn't mind spending a week grounded just to let them recover.

"Phew," said Sparx, speaking for the first time since they'd left Concurrent Skies. "That was some night, eh Spyro? Fighting bat-monsters, collapsing towers, rescuing weirdos… All part of the job, am I right?"

Spyro offered him a strained smile, but he was grateful for Sparx's quips. The silence that had fallen over everyone in the flight from Concurrent Skies had given him far too much time to brood. Warfang was a constant source of worry in the back of his head—what had befallen the city in his time away?—and he feared that which was expected of him. But right now, nothing made him more uncomfortable than Lumis.

There was no denying the resemblance. Looking at him was like staring at a ghostly shade of Alta. Just seeing him was enough to set off memories that Spyro would rather have kept buried. Of blood and tears and… He shook his head roughly. There was no sense in thinking about it.

"Maybe we should get some sleep," he suggested, looking from Sparx to Cynder, who had just landed. The others were alighting all around them, displaying various degrees of tiredness.

"It is late," Cynder agreed.

Spyro relaxed a little as she nuzzled his neck; he wasn't sure what he'd do without her. Wrapping a wing around her side, he surveyed the rest of his friends. None of them seemed about to argue with his idea; Zannak and Kazan had already flopped down on their backs and looked to be having a race towards dreamland. Saffron was whispering something to Nadi, and Spyro thought he recognised something in her face. It was the sort of expression Cynder had when she praised him. Nadi looked mildly uncomfortable.

Cynder nudged his shoulder and he glanced questioningly at her. She raised her eyebrows meaningfully and jerked her head over his shoulder. Bemused, Spyro turned his head. Lumis stood alone on a small outcrop of rock, keeping his distance as though afraid to get closer. He was facing away from them, staring at the distant smudge that was Concurrent Skies. Spyro knew what was expected of him, but it still made his scales prickle.

"Talk to him," Cynder whispered.

Spyro sighed. Of course she would encourage him. "I can't, Cynder. I don't even know him. He's too…"

"Too much like Alta." It wasn't a question.

Spyro winced and wished she hadn't mentioned that name. It was bad enough seeing Lumis out of the corner of his eye and thinking for one wild moment that Alta had come back from the dead. He stared at Lumis's back for a moment until he realised he was scowling. Why was this so hard? They were brothers, not the same dragon. And yet…

"Come on." Cynder's wing draped over his back and, before he could voice the protests on his lips, she started pushing him towards Lumis.

Fear and nerves collided in Spyro's stomach and he dug his paws into the ground, stopping Cynder in her tracks. No way. He couldn't do this. He opened his mouth to tell Cynder, but her glare was like a knife pointed at the space between his eyes. One wrong step and she would cut him down to size. Spyro gulped. "O…okay."

With Sparx snickering above his head, Spyro reluctantly allowed Cynder to lead him over to the unspeaking oracle dragon. He didn't react to their approach at first, and Spyro wondered if he was ignoring them or simply distracted. Even from this angle, he could see the shimmer of the Poison Claws still on Lumis's forepaws. It sent a shiver up his spine. Why hadn't he taken them off?

Right beside the rock Lumis was standing on, Cynder stopped and nudged Spyro. He mouthed wordlessly, completely at a loss. What was he supposed to say? "Um…"

"I guess I should thank you," said Lumis, so suddenly that Spyro jumped. He looked helplessly at Cynder, but she just nudged him again and gave him a meaningful look.

"I…guess?" Spyro sighed and shook his head. He was getting nowhere. "We couldn't have just left you there."

"You could have." Lumis turned his head and at last Spyro met his eyes. It was strange, but those eyes reassured him a little. They weren't like Alta's eyes; they reminded him that this was a different dragon. "But you were trying to atone."

"I…I was?"

Lumis arched an eyebrow. "Weren't you? Alta's death—you blame yourself. I can see it in your eyes. Looking at me makes you uncomfortable."

Spyro stared, dumbfounded. That any dragon could be so perceptive, and so quick about it, was beyond him. He shifted uncomfortably and wished Cynder hadn't forced him over. How could he respond to that?

"He's good," Sparx hissed in his ear.

Evidently, he didn't need to respond. Lumis continued as though he hadn't noticed Spyro's discomfort. "You weren't the only one. I'm…sorry for how I acted back there. I thought that if I…died defending you, I might be able to atone for what my brother did. To all of you."

He shook his head, and Spyro realised he was berating himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lumis beat him to it with an odd sort of smile. "Pretty stupid, right?"

Spyro tried to return the smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

"Redemption shouldn't always have to equal death," Cynder cut in, looking less than impressed. "How do you think we'd have felt had that happened?"

Lumis's eyes widened. "Well, I… I didn't think it would matter to you. You don't even know me."

"You're the last surviving member of an extinct tribe! We watched your brother kill himself in front of our eyes!" Cynder exclaimed, and Spyro recoiled in shock. "Of course it would matter to us!"

She snorted and sat back, looking mildly irritated. Spyro stared at her, half impressed and half startled. For the first time he realized that Alta's death must have had an impact on her, just as it had on him. She had always been the one to reassure and comfort him; he had never guessed that she too might be haunted by the memories. Slowly, guiltily, he placed a paw over hers.

Cynder gave him a look that said quite clearly 'I'm fine, just annoyed.' He smiled weakly.

"I see," murmured Lumis. "I'm sorry. Again."

Silence fell for a moment. Spyro felt like he was between two walls; one of barely contained fire, and the other of slowly melting ice. Only Sparx didn't seem affected. "So, are we all just going to sit around and apologize to each other, or are we gonna get some answers here? I mean, dude, I thought you were supposed to be _dead_!"

"Sparx!" Spyro hissed, aghast.

"No, he's right," Cynder cut in, her eyes blazing in Lumis's direction. "Alta thought you were dead. How _did_ you survive?"

Spyro sighed and sat back. At least Cynder was with him; he knew for sure he'd never be able to get answers out of Lumis like she would. The oracle was staring at her as though seeing her for the first time.

"It's not surprising he thought that," Lumis said. "It's a bit of a long story."

"Give us the short version," said Cynder. Spyro couldn't help smiling; when Cynder wanted something, Cynder got it.

Lumis sighed. "How much do you know?"

"Only that your tribe was attacked by the Dark Army, and Alta was the only survivor," said Spyro. "At least, he thought so."

He decided to leave out the grisly detail of Alta finding his brother's severed tailblade. Lumis's scarred tail and its mysterious lack of a blade was enough for Spyro to figure out what had happened. As for what had happened afterwards, he could only guess.

"From the beginning then," said Lumis, looking away from them again.

Spyro followed his gaze to the distant fortress. How long had he been captive there? He could only imagine the horrors that had befallen him.

"I supposed the only reason I survived was because they thought I was dead," Lumis began slowly, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "I don't know if you were ever aware, but the apes made a lot of their weapons from dragon bone and scale. That's why they collected the dead—and me along with them."

"I knew that," Cynder said quietly, but Spyro gave a great shudder. He had fought those apes countless times, but he had never given thought to what their weapons were made of. It was despicable. He could never imagine his own bones forged into weaponry—weaponry made to kill other dragons. Lumis was speaking again, so he shoved the brutal thoughts to the back of his mind.

"They left the bodies in a pile outside their encampment for the night. When I woke up…" A flicker of emotion crossed his face, the sort of haunted look that Spyro knew all too well. He clutched at Cynder's paw as Lumis continued. "I struggled out of the pile and dragged myself away. I don't even know how. My whole body was numb; I was covered in blood. But I had to get back home."

Lumis shook his head. "The next thing I remember is waking up under an old blanket in a hut. I'd been found by a band of refugees—dragons and moles. They treated my wounds and I stayed with them for a while. Even if I had been able to leave, I wouldn't have known the way back home. I was lost."

"Some time later, the refugees were attacked just as my tribe had been. Only the younger dragons were kept alive, I amongst them. They took us to a place called the Mountain of Malefor, and we were brought before the king of all apes." He spoke without emotion, detached from his worst memories in a way that Spyro could only wish for. "He wanted to train us as generals under the Terror of the Skies. We had no choice but to comply. The following years were the worst time of my life."

Cynder's paw shuddered under Spyro's. He clutched it tighter.

"The king of apes—I forget his name—trained us hard and mercilessly. When he discovered I was an oracle, he kept me for his own. I was his personal servant. His personal oracle. It was the only thing that kept me alive." Lumis blinked and Spyro saw, even from this angle, that his eyes were hollow. "Most of the others died on their first missions as generals."

He took a deep breath. "Years later, the Mountain of Malefor crumbled and the apes discovered their king had been killed. I never found out how. I, and the rest of the dragons who had survived the training, escaped. We became renegades, killing any apes we could, standing alone against the forces of the Dark Army. Eventually, the apes stopped coming, but they were replaced by these strange creatures I knew as grublins."

"One by one, my comrades fell. I can't tell you how I survived, but eventually I was the last one left. Alone and vulnerable, I sought out hiding, and there I waited for something to happen. Something to save me from this waking nightmare." Lumis blinked, and it seemed to Spyro that some of the life returned to his eyes. "Then I had a dream. I saw my brother, no longer the hatchling I'd once known, ending his own life."

He looked straight at Spyro, who gulped. "And I saw you, the purple dragon, weeping over his body."

"I followed my vision home at last, and by the time I got there my brother's corpse had been abandoned. I blocked off the caverns and left him to his eternal tomb. And I left. For a long time I wandered. I had dreams in that time, and met with spirits who told me stories of what had happened to the world while I had hid myself away. I learned all about you, Spyro. And what my brother had done."

"Wait, you can talk to spirits?" Sparx interrupted. "That's creepy dude."

"Shh!" Cynder hissed.

"How did you end up captured by Dreadwings?" Spyro wondered aloud, and then wondered if he shouldn't have asked that.

Lumis smiled ruefully. "My own folly. I wandered into their territory in my travels, and they snatched me up like prey. I have a feeling they'd have eaten me had I not revealed my oracle powers in a fit of desperation. Though perhaps it would have been better if they had eaten me…"

Spyro eyed him closely, trying to remember exactly what the Dreadwing king had said. Something about luring him there… "What did they do to you?"

"Tortured me," he replied, so casually that Spyro felt like he'd been slapped. Lumis returned his stare. "I'm not a regular oracle, you see. I might have mentioned the term before—spiritseer. Your little insect friend is right; I can talk to spirits."

"Hey, don't call me an insect. Dragon. Fly."

"And as a spiritseer, I can spirit call," said Lumis, clearly ignoring Sparx.

"Which is?" Cynder waved a paw.

"Consider it a call that passes through the spirit realm rather than a vocal cry. When you speak, your words are heard in this realm. When I spirit call, my words are heard throughout the spirit plain." Lumis looked straight at Spyro. "Only spirits and other spiritseers can hear spirit calls. That's what the Dreadwings were counting on. That I would spirit call for help. And you, the purple dragon, the only dragon in this realm _guaranteed_ to be a spiritseer, would hear it."

"You've lost me," Sparx muttered.

"But you didn't," said Cynder. "You didn't call. Spyro never heard your voice. I was the one who had dreams that led us to you."

"Which is what I don't understand," said Lumis, frowning at Cynder. "You are not a spiritseer. I know one when I see one; they have a sort of aura about them. So how could you, a normal dragon, be contacted by spirits?"

"Yeah, and what spirit would care enough to lead us to you, anyway?" Sparx quipped. Spyro glared at him.

"I can think of one," Cynder murmured.

Spyro looked sharply at her. Her gaze was focused not on Lumis, but on his paws. The Poison Claws. Abruptly, Spyro understood. He gaped at her. "You don't think…"

"You saw him, Spyro!" she exclaimed. "Remember? If you're a spiritseer like he says, doesn't it only make sense? That's why no one else saw him but you!"

"Saw…who?" Lumis stared from Cynder to Spyro.

Spyro looked away. "Your brother."

A silence so tense fell upon them that Spyro felt he could have torn it with a claw. There was something about the way Lumis was staring at Cynder that he didn't like. It looked as though he was doing some extremely quick thinking.

"You had these," said Lumis at last, raising one paw and glancing at the Poison Claws. "How long have you had them?"

"Since…" Cynder bit her lip and trailed off.

"Since we took them off the freaky oracle dude," Sparx muttered.

"My brother was using these?"

Sparx folded his arms. "Well, duh. He was trying to _kill_ us!"

Again, Spyro got the impression that Lumis was thinking quickly. His eyes flickered like fireflies darting to and fro.

"They were there when he died and you took them at that moment." He stared at Cynder. It wasn't a question, but she nodded slowly anyway. Spyro stared from one to the other, feeling like he'd been left out of the loop. What was going on? What was Lumis thinking?

"And you've carried them ever since?"

Again, Cynder nodded. It was like a ray of light had just passed across Lumis's face; something had just made complete sense to him. For the life of him, Spyro wanted to know _what_.

"_Of course._ It all makes sense…" Lumis stared at the claws almost admirably.

"What does?!" Spyro exclaimed suddenly, unable to hold it any longer. Lumis flinched and looked at him as though he'd just remembered he was there.

"My brother led you to me," he said. "Using _these_. And _her_."

"Yeah, but _how_?" Sparx asked, drumming his tiny fingers on his arm. "Come on, we're not getting any younger here."

"I have to admit, I'm confused too," said Cynder.

Lumis paced to and fro on the rock he'd been standing on, the Poison Claws clicking with every step. Spyro twitched his tail impatiently. "Alright, bear with me. How much do you know about spirits?"

"Only that they're the embodiment of a dragon's soul after he dies," Spyro said, recalling the stories Ignitus had told him so long ago. Those months at the temple after he had returned with Cynder, even with the ambiguous threat on the horizon, had been some of the best of his life.

"Right, well. Not all dragons become spirits. Only those who are restless, who feel as though there is something they have yet to do or complete, become spirits. The rest pass on their energy and become Spirit Gems. You know about that, right?"

Spyro and Cynder nodded. 'A gift from the Ancestors' Ignitus had once called them; some time later, Spyro had asked him what that really meant.

"Anyway, those who do become spirits spend their time wandering the spirit plain and occasionally appearing to mortal dragons—spiritseers, that is—until they feel they have completed what they were unable to do in life. Then they pass on. _But_…" Lumis tapped one of the Poison Claws on the rock. "Sometimes a spirit can form a special attachment to something that was important or influential to them during life. It can be an object, a place, or even another living being. And through that, they can contact the mortal world."

The rush of information was just a little too much for Spyro to take in at once. He ran the words through his head three times before he understood what Lumis was getting at. Cynder, it seemed, realised it a few beats sooner.

"The Poison Claws?" she said. "Alta's spirit attached to them?"

Lumis grinned, and his face lit up like the moons above his head. For the first time, he looked nothing like Alta, and the effect was both startling and reassuring at once. Spyro felt like he was seeing Lumis for the first time.

"Right," Lumis said, "and through them he contacted you. You were the only one close enough to do so."

Spyro exchanged a glance with Cynder, and she nodded. "It does make sense. It was only after I started carrying the Claws around with me that I had those dreams. And Spyro saw his spirit several times."

"And he led us straight to you," Spyro concluded. As strange as it all sounded to say aloud, he couldn't deny that it all fit together. To think that they had been haunted by Alta's spirit for who-knows-how-long and all he'd done was lead them to his trapped brother. It went against everything Spyro had thought he'd known about the late oracle dragon—the same dragon who had screamed hatred even in his final moments.

"Well this is all fine and dandy, but I think we're forgetting one thing," Sparx interrupted. The dragonfly pointed at the Poison Claws. "You expect us to believe creepy oracle guy's ghost is haunting those things? I mean, jeez, why'd he choose them?"

Lumis replied with a small smile. "Because they were created by his brother."

Spyro's thoughts ground to a halt. He stared at Lumis, hardly seeing, and for a moment it didn't click. Then it slapped him with all the force of a battering ram. "You…you created…?"

"Why the heck would you do that?" Sparx threw his arms in the air.

"Why would you create something so deadly?" Cynder said, aghast.

Lumis stared at them, the confusion on his face all too evident. "Deadly? The Claws aren't made for offence. They're imbued with paralysis poison."

It felt like there were two puzzle pieces inside his mind trying desperately to fit together, but unable to do so. Spyro's head reeled. "But Alta said the poison was deadly. One scratch and you're dead."

The corner of Lumis's mouth pulled up in an incredulous smile. "Didn't you consider he might be bluffing?"

"Bluffing?" Cynder's voice was shrill. "No one could bluff so effectively! He believed it! Otherwise he wouldn't have turned his back on me!"

"He scratched you with them? Surely you must have realised then that they weren't deadly?"

"No!" Cynder exclaimed, and for a moment she sounded almost angry. "I'm immune to poison! I thought that…"

"He couldn't have been bluffing," Spyro said, shaking his head. It was all too much to take in. "He would never have been so confident if he hadn't believed it himself."

Lumis smile faded slowly. "Maybe he did believe it. Maybe he was so far gone that he made himself believe they were deadly…"

"But they're…not?" said Cynder.

Spyro got the impression that she was having trouble believing him. After so long believing Alta—believing that these Claws were one of the most dangerous weapons they'd ever come across—this was almost impossible to take in. Suddenly the fight they'd had over them seemed even more foolish than it had before. Spyro wished it had never happened; it made his stomach churn remembering the moment he'd bared his claws against her.

"Of course not." Lumis looked horrified. "I'd never craft something like that. They were made for defence; to protect us from the Dark Army. It was the first artefact that I'd ever created on my own. I guess it was my last, too…"

He looked down at the Claws still clamped over his forepaws. Spyro didn't know what to say, and evidently neither did the others. For a while they stood in silence as the wind gushed over the plains. Spyro glanced over his shoulder. The other dragons lay silent and peaceful amongst the rocks and grass, and he could hear faint snoring on the breeze. How long had they been talking?

"At least they found their way back to their rightful owner." It was Cynder who broke the silence. Spyro looked back to find her looking at the Claws too.

"Thank you," Lumis replied. He smiled at Cynder's bemused expression. "For keeping them for me. They're the last heirloom I have of my tribe now."

Cynder nodded stiffly, and Spyro stretched a wing around her. Sparx descended onto his head, and he knew it was time. "We should all get some sleep. It's late and tomorrow…"

"We need to get back on track," Cynder finished for him, as though she'd read his mind. Spyro gave her a grateful smile. "We've spent enough time on this little detour."

"I suppose tomorrow I'll have to decide what to do next," said Lumis, stepping off the rock. "I've been lost for a long time; in more ways than one."

Spyro hesitated before saying his next words. But they felt right as they left his mouth. "We can help you find your way, if you need it. Just in case."

Lumis seemed to consider for a moment before replying with only a smile. In that moment, Spyro saw something that both shocked and disarmed him. It was as though he was looking into the face of an Alta that had never lost his mind. He was Lumis, and yet he was everything Alta could have been. And Spyro found, just for that moment, that he didn't mind that image at all.

**A/N: So. Much. Exposition. I'm sorry. xD In case anyone wonders, that random snippet about electricity not being a real element is based on a headcanon I formed a while ago. I was trying to figure out the names of the seasons in the Dragon Realms and figured they'd name them after the elements, but I couldn't find a place for electricity. So I thought, what if electricity wasn't one of the original elements but was created by dragons some time later? It doesn't quite work with the lore I've built up in this continuity, so Volteer will be happy to find it's all just a rumour. xD Were he to end up in Firelight's universe, however... **

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the extremely late chapter. I think this is actually the longest I've ever made you wait. Whoopsie. Thanks everyone for the reviews on last chapter, and to everyone who reviewed during my absence. Seriously, you guys seem to come in packs. I go for weeks without anything, and then bam, a bunch of reviews in a week. xD I'll never understand. BUT I LOVE YOU ALL. **

**See you next time!**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Hiii guys~ This is a really heavy chapter, and probably should have been split in two. Buut... I wrote it as one and I want to get the ball rolling, so here you go. Hopefully you can handle it. Stuff happens. Much stuff. See you down there!**

**36.**

Mari knew she should have been fast asleep. The day had been overcast and the clouds still persisted well into the night, blocking out both the moons and the stars. Her room at the infirmary was so dark she couldn't see her paw in front of her face. At the very least, she could see the outline of the window on the far wall and the distant shimmer of a torch at the end of the street. She wished it was closer.

The wound in her stomach was a constant ache. Every small movement made it twinge, and only laying very still on her back relieved it. But after a time staring blankly towards the dark ceiling, discomfort crept back and she rolled onto her side. Dull pain throbbed in her midriff. Mari groaned.

Biting her lip, she pushed herself up. Every movement felt like pressing a claw harder and harder into a bad bruise. She only let out the breath she'd been holding when she was propped safely against the wall. Absentmindedly, she stroked a hand over her bandages.

It was impossible to see in the darkness, but Mari knew Terra was there on the other side of the room. The moles had set up a bed of cushions for her when she'd refused to leave the infirmary for the night. Cougar and Hunter had gone back to the room they'd shared last time they'd been in the city. Mari couldn't feel as safe without them close at hand, but she was glad for Terra's company. Even if she was asleep.

Hugging her aching middle, Mari looked towards the window. The street torch was naught but an orange glow about as big as her paw. She wished its light would reach the room. Mari had never liked nights like this, where even the moon was dark and she felt like she was blind. There was something so lonely about the darkness.

Mari stared at the spot where she knew Terra was, but couldn't see through the dark no matter how she strained her eyes. She wasn't alone, but it sure felt like it. All she wanted was to hear someone's voice, but she couldn't even hear Terra's breathing through the deafening silence. Something ached at the base of her throat.

"Wake up," she whispered. There was no response. She drew her knees closer and hugged them, trying to ignore the pain of her stomach. "Wake up."

A whisper wasn't going to wake Terra up. She knew that, but she couldn't bring herself to speak louder. It felt wrong. Trying to wake her up felt wrong. But suddenly that was the only thing she wanted.

"Wake up." The ache grew fiercer and something behind her eyes burned. "Please."

Mari buried her face in her knees; the darkness there was safer somehow. She didn't want to be here any longer. She wasn't okay. She was lying to Terra, lying to Cougar, lying to Zephira, lying to her mother to whom she'd already broken a promise. The herb garden was little more than ash. She shouldn't have ever left Avalar.

"I want to go home," she whispered to her knees.

The bed shifted slightly and Mari raised her head when she felt someone crawl onto it beside her. The outline of Terra was barely visible in the dark. Mari felt the panther's paw blinding grasping at her arm.

"Are you awake too?" said Terra's voice, breaking the silence so suddenly, so welcomingly, that Mari couldn't help herself. She lurched forward and wrapped her arms clumsily around her friend's ribs. The scent of fur enveloped her as she buried her face. Slowly, Terra's arms weaved around her shoulders. "I guess so…"

For a moment they stayed like that, until Mari's wound started to ache unbearably. Blinking furiously, she pried herself away from Terra and leant against the wall again. The room seemed a little lighter.

"I'm scared," Terra said suddenly. Mari felt her scoot closer and sit up against her side.

"Me too," she admitted.

"I don't understand what my brothers are thinking." Terra's paw clutched at hers. "Attacking the guardians… Even if they do manage to get to them, the city isn't ever going to surrender. They can't win against dragons."

Her voice was strained. Mari felt guilt creep like acid into her stomach. All she'd lost was a stupid herb garden. Terra was set to lose her entire tribe. She'd already lost the brothers she'd once known.

Terra took a great shuddering breath. "Mari, I'm _scared_. I don't want to lose my tribe because my brothers are too _stupid_ to understand what they're doing. I don't… I don't want them to die."

Her hand was gripping Mari's so hard it hurt. Mari wished she knew what to say. That the dragons were an honourable species and would be fair and just towards their enemies? Even she wasn't sure of that. After everything that had happened, after the deaths of many innocent dragons caused by unprovoked war, how could they ever be merciful towards the panthers? She couldn't very well comfort Terra when she knew that the citizens of Warfang wanted nothing more than to see her brothers hung by their necks for all to see.

Some friend she was. All she did was squeeze Terra's paw.

The silence was shattered so suddenly that Mari's heart leapt straight into her throat. An anguished roar cut through the night and for a split second she thought it was thunder. Then another joined the first, and Mari thought she heard distant yelling. She looked wildly at Terra, and in the darkness she could see the outline of the panther's wide eyes. They scrambled off the bed together and Mari limped over to the window, gripping Terra's arm for balance.

A distant plume of fire shot into the sky in the near distance, putting the measly street torch to shame. Mari gaped and pressed against Terra, gripping the windowsill. "What is that?"

"Someone…someone's in trouble," Terra said in a strangled voice. She fumbled with the window for a moment, and Mari realised she was trying to open it.

"Don't!" She gripped Terra's hand in a jolt of fear. "It might be dangerous!"

"But… What if they need help?"

In the distant glow of fire, Mari could just make out the hopeless, horrified look on Terra's face. The noises in the distance grew louder, and Mari thought she heard a guttural scream. Light flared in the windows of nearby buildings, and a few dragons hurried out into the street. Some were carrying lanterns between their teeth, and all were staring in the direction of the roars.

"Someone will help," Mari replied, unable to stop her voice from shaking. "There's no one on this side of the city that couldn't have heard that."

Terra didn't reply. The roars stopped a moment later, but the distant buzz of voices still sounded in the distance. Mari waited by the window, leaning on Terra, as the voices drew slowly closer. The minutes seemed to drag by. Five…ten…fifteen… Suddenly there came the sound of doors crashing open nearby. Mari whirled around and almost fell, but Terra grabbed her by the shoulders.

Together, they stumbled over to their door and Terra opened it just a crack. Frantic voices filled the halls of the infirmary. A pair of moles hurried past them towards the entrance. Moments later, the thud of dragon footsteps echoed in the hall. Mari gaped as two adult males—one yellow, the other green—thundered past. Draped across their backs was an old dragon whose scales were so slicked with blood that it was almost impossible to tell his colour. Mari caught a glimpse of his face hanging limp against the green dragon's flank. Faded yellow with pale brown horns. He was almost familiar.

"That was…" Terra hesitated. "One of the elders… A council member. I remember him from my trial."

"Do you think he's okay?" Mari said, shaken. Terra bit her lip and didn't reply.

More thundering footsteps filled the hall. Mari glanced back in time to see the Fire Guardian limping heavily, supported by a large ice dragon. A trail of blood was left in his wake as they passed by. Mari felt her stomach churn and backed into her room. She'd seen enough.

"Another attack…" whispered Terra. She sank to her knees and the door clicked shut as she leant against it. "I can't believe this. Skelos… What are you thinking?"

Mari didn't know how to respond.

* * *

The infirmary doors crashed open with a satisfying thud and Terrador strode into the entrance foyer, barely keeping his composure. "Where are they?"

Only then did he realise that every mole and dragon within range were staring at him in frozen shock. Some had even poked their heads into the foyer to see what the fuss was about, but no one moved to assist to him. Terrador ground his teeth. Unprofessional; it was the only word for it. He was a Guardian, and this was an emergency.

He focused his attention on the nearest faux-statue of a mole. "Direct me to the Fire Guardian's room immediately."

The mole gaped. The floor under Terrador's paw cracked with a bang that made everyone in the room jump. "Now!"

That, at last, seemed to snap the gormless mole to his senses. He jumped on his stubby legs and hurried down the corridor, calling over his shoulder. "This way, sir!"

Terrador followed as fast as his old limp would allow, casting a disapproving glance at the staring dragons and moles he passed. To their credit, most of them inclined their heads and retreated. At least they still held to some discipline. The mole had stopped at a door and seemed to be waiting for Terrador to approach before he opened it. Terrador didn't know what to expect in the room beyond. All he knew was that Thasos and another of the council had been attacked.

The messenger mole had only said 'it wasn't good.'

Seeing Volteer laid low had been enough; now Thasos too? The old fellow had only been a guardian for a year, and already he was a target of assassination. If these attacks were anything to go by, however, they all were.

Stepping into the room, Terrador immediately felt the atmosphere dampen like a heavy fog settling on his shoulders. He turned to thank the mole that had let him in, but he was already gone. The door snapped shut in his face. Feeling grim, Terrador turned his attention on the room's lone occupant.

It took six cushions to encompass Thasos's size. The great orange dragon lay on his stomach, his tail turned to the door. Stark against his aged scales were numerous bandages, and a small number of red gems were scattered on the floor beside him. Whether he was asleep, unconscious, or merely unaware of his guest, Terrador couldn't tell. He took a slow step closer.

"Forgive me, Terrador."

Terrador wasn't unaccustomed to despair. Countless times he had watched warriors crumble before him, their discipline and training nothing in the face of soul-crushing anguish. Even Ignitus had broken in front of him once, long ago. But to hear the choking guilt in Thasos's voice at that moment was like being struck across the face.

"Why do you apologise?" he countered, but a hollow feeling had already opened deep in his gut.

"I have failed to protect the dragons under my care." Thasos's voice trembled. "I have failed to uphold the very definition of Guardian. Because of me, an innocent dragon has died tonight. I…I am no Guardian."

Terrador clenched his jaw. No matter how he had expected such a verdict, it was no easier to accept. "Who was it?"

Thasos gave a shuddering sigh. "Elder Moro."

The old electricity council member. Terrador had never spoken with him much; outside of meetings, he had little contact with the council. But he remembered the old dragon's face. "Is this a certainty?"

"He was dead before they got to us." Thasos's voice broke. He didn't move from his cushions, not even to face Terrador. "I am sure the moles did all they could, but… I am a failure as a Guardian. I should never have taken—"

"Stay your tongue," Terrador interrupted, anger flaring in his chest. It faded as soon as it had come. "You are no less a Guardian than the rest of us. We have all lost comrades in battle. That does not make us failures."

A long sigh seemed to deflate Thasos's beaten body. Slowly, the Fire Guardian began to shift until he was sitting, a little unsteadily, and facing Terrador. There was a defeated look in his eyes that Terrador had seen countless times before. It was exactly the same look that Ignitus had carried in days of the war, after Cyril and Volteer had both been taken. Those were bitter memories that he would have rather not kept.

"What of you? Are your injuries bearable?"

"I will survive," said Thasos with an incline of his head. "I suppose Volteer shall have someone to keep him company while we recover."

Terrador grunted in agreement. Thoughts that he had been mulling over since Volteer's attack returned to the surface. He would need a word with the other two Guardians about certain new rules that would need to be set in place if they were to be kept safe. And the council members…

Right on cue, the door snapped open behind Terrador and the room was filled with bickering.

"…if he had not run off like that…"

"Don't be such a prude, Cyril, he was undoubtedly vexed."

"At the very least he could have waited for… Terrador!"

Terrador fixed Cyril and Volteer with a hard stare, daring them to continue their conversation. It was clear what it was about. He was not surprised when both Guardians stopped talking and smiled sheepishly instead.

"Naturally you'd be present," said Volteer after a moment. "How is he? Not too wounded, I dare hope."

"I'm all right," said Thasos as Terrador stepped aside to let the Ice and Electric Guardians in. They both attempted to enter the room at the same time, and there was a moment of frosty, charged silence as they stared each other down.

"Enough of this," Terrador barked, his annoyance quickly rising above breaking point. "We have a serious matter to discuss. One of the council members has been killed."

"Good gracious," said Cyril, his eyes widening. "Who was it?"

"Elder Moro."

The Ice Guardian's mouth thinned and he stepped back to allow Volteer into the room first. Volteer took the invitation without a word, suddenly sombre. Terrador waited until the door was closed behind Cyril before he spoke.

"I think it is clear what is happening," he began, looking at each Guardian in turn. They nodded slowly. "The panthers plan to rid Warfang of its leaders. Not just us, as we have learned tonight, but the Council of Warfang as well. None of us are safe."

"What exactly happened, Thasos?" Volteer asked, settling a worried look on the Fire Guardian.

Thasos didn't hesitate to respond, as though the words had been on his tongue all this time and he'd been merely awaiting the chance to speak them. "I went to check on the night guards, as per usual. As Terrador suggested after you were attacked, Volteer, I had asked earlier that evening if Elder Moro would accompany me so that I would not have to walk the streets alone. He always was a bit of a night-owl, you see."

A shudder passed over Thasos's scales and he closed his eyes. "Dear ancestors, it was my fault."

"Thasos," Terrador interrupted again. "Enough. There will be time to grieve later. We are not here to blame."

Thasos coughed and straightened up. "Y-yes. Forgive me. We were on our way to the western wall, when… Well, they came out of nowhere. I took the same route I always do, and they were there—just waiting for us in the shadows. I didn't manage to see how many there were; they were too quick to count. We fought with all our strength, but Moro is…was…well past his prime. I did all I could…"

Heavy silence fell over the room. Cyril was looking grimmer than ever.

"Even in pairs we aren't safe," he said.

Terrador sighed. "I am afraid so. And that is why this must be done. Warfang cannot stand to lose any of us in this moment of crisis. From now on, new regulations must be set to keep us safe."

"And they are, Terrador?" Volteer asked.

"From now until this threat is passed, none of us are to be in the streets come nightfall."

"Now just…!"

Terrador held up a paw and silenced Cyril before he could get another word in. "If there is no way around it, we must be accompanied by a number of guards. I will be having words with Seriphos to arrange this. This applies to the council members as well. I will not have another dragon die within my city. But, where at all possible, none of us will leave our quarters before the sun has risen, and we shall not remain in the streets after dusk. I will not give these panthers the chance to target us. Do we agree?"

His fellow guardians exchanged glances, and Terrador knew they were hesitant to agree to his terms. He himself was not keen on it. Curfews were for rebellious adolescents and troublesome hatchlings, not Guardians. But to keep him and his comrades safe, desperate measures would have to be taken.

"Very well, Terrador," Cyril sighed after a long moment. "It is for the best, after all."

"Though I shall lament the loss of my early morning library adventures," said Volteer.

Thasos merely nodded. Terrador inclined his head to all of them. "Very well. I'll call a meeting at the Atrium in the morning; the council members must be made aware. For now, we should try to get some sleep. Are you fine to remain here, Thasos?"

When the Fire Guardian had nodded again, Terrador turned to the remaining Guardians. "Come, Cyril, Volteer. We'll return to our quarters together."

"If we can get through the crowd outside," Cyril muttered as he was ushered from the room.

* * *

Despite what he had said to his fellow Guardians, Terrador did not sleep another wink that night. He sat alone at his desk, alternating between staring out the window and watching the little hourglass that he reset every morning and every night. The slowly draining sand told him it was still some hours before dawn, but for the life of him he could not feel tired. Thoughts flitted in and out of his head like fireflies, and he could not pin them down.

Come dawn, he would send out a message to the council calling for a meeting before breakfast. Then he would have the unpleasant duty of announcing Elder Moro's passing to those who had not already heard. And a funeral. They would have to have a funeral for the old councildragon. When?

Perhaps funerals and the like would have to be delayed until this mess was dealt with. Sooner or later, the panthers would have to give up the fight. Their cause was a lost one. The dragons of Warfang would never surrender, and nor would they ever give up the cheetahs of Avalar. They were allies.

But this alliance had caused yet more casualties. Had they never stood in the way of the panthers, then… Terrador scowled. He refused to let his thoughts take a turn like that. To be in an alliance was to be willing to defend one's allies, even in the face of death.

In truth, Terrador was worried. The alliance between cheetah and dragon had already been stretched thin by the war with Malefor, and only Spyro's reappearance had strengthened it. Now, with the tables turned and the dragons drawn into a war that should not have been their own, how many of the citizens of Warfang were questioning this allegiance?

Spyro had been gone for far longer than he had expected. Without the purple dragon, even if he was to be nothing more than an idol, they had little common ground to hold onto. The purple dragon was what had brought them together, cheetahs and dragons under one banner. He was a staple of unity. And he was the one weapon that ensured them victory.

Where was he now? Terrador dearly hoped that nothing had befallen Spyro on his journey. Whether that concern was for the purple dragon's wellbeing, or because he feared the loss of dragonkind's most powerful weapon, Terrador could not say. Perhaps he simply could not separate one from the other, but that thought offered him no comfort. Spyro was as much a weapon as he was a dragon. That was what his head told him, and he could not deny it.

Where would that weapon be during dragonkind's darkest hour, whenever it may come?

Some time later, Terrador was awakened by light shining across his eyelids. With a start, he realised he had dozed off on his desk. There was a crick in his neck, but he ignored it as he raised his head. The upper bowl of the hourglass was almost emptied of sand. It was dawn.

Flipping the hourglass over, Terrador stood up. His legs groaned from the position they'd been trapped in for the last few hours. Grimacing, he stepped over his cushions and opened the door to the upper landing of the Guardian's Quarters. Silence told him that Volteer and Cyril were still asleep—if they hadn't disobeyed his orders and left for the library some time ago. He was about to knock on Volteer's door when a knock from below beat him to it.

Terrador turned to the stairs. Was someone knocking from outside? No sooner had he thought it than another knock carried up the stairs. Abandoning the idea of waking the other Guardians for the moment, Terrador hurried down to the entrance foyer. The fireplace was unused, and everything was quiet. Wondering if the mysterious knocker had already left, Terrador crossed the maroon rug and opened the door.

A slender green dragoness stood on the other side, looking alarmed that her knocks had been answered. Terrador looked her over briefly, disturbed by the state of her spindly, frail body. He could almost see her ribs poking through her scales. Something in the back of his mind told him that this dragoness looked familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Um… Good morning," said the dragoness shakily. "I'm…sorry to bother you so early…"

Terrador blinked the glaze from his eyes and slipped back into Guardian mode. "Not at all, I was already awake. How can I help?"

The dragoness trembled and looked over her shoulder, as though afraid that someone would see her there. Terrador felt his suspicions rise. "Miss?"

"I-I'm sorry," she said again, her voice still trembling. "You might not remember me, but we've talked before. You've taught my son."

Again, Terrador looked her over and racked his brains. Thin stature; earth dragoness; _son_… Suddenly it clicked into place.

"Chasm," he said. "Chasm's mother. Yes, I remember. Forgive me; I've forgotten your name."

"Tetria," she almost whispered. She took a great shaky breath that seemed to rattle in her chest. "M…may I have a word?"

"Of course. What troubles you?"

Again, Tetria glanced over her shoulder and Terrador finally thought to ask her inside. She accepted gratefully, and her legs shook as she stepped over the threshold. As Terrador closed the door, she turned to face him. He had never seen a dragoness so conflicted.

"It's…" she took another shaky breath. "It's about my son…"

* * *

In times of crisis, news spread like wildfire throughout the city. Chasm learned all too soon that the information he had fed to the panthers had caused the death of one of the council members, and the injuries of two guardians. He tried not to feel anything about this, but a heavy sickness churned in his gut and he found he couldn't finish his breakfast. Abruptly, he stood up and shouldered his way through a group of dragons to get out of the Main Hall.

It shouldn't matter to him, anyway. He didn't personally know the old councildragon, and he sure didn't give a damn about the Guardians. If they were real Guardians, they would have had the purple freak executed for that vicious, unprovoked attack that had left him maimed. He scowled at his lame leg. No, he shouldn't care that his information had caused that stupid dragon's death. It was his fault for being stupid enough to walk around at night, after all.

But he still felt sick.

Kicking at a loose pebble in the street, Chasm strode away from the Main Hall, not really sure where he was going. It had been a few days since he had last spoken with the panthers. They had been pleased with his information, and clearly it had given them something to work with if those two attacks were anything to go by. But they still wanted more. They wanted to know what the dragons were planning.

Eventually, his aimless walk led him to the Atrium. For a moment he stared at the huge round building and wondered how he was going to get the next information he needed. He would have to do a lot more spying, and that meant knowing when all of the meetings were called. Most of the time, only council members were made aware of meetings. How was he going to get around that?

They were probably all hiding in their rooms this morning, anyway. One of their stupid council friends had been killed; they were probably scared. Maybe they were sad too. Chasm grimaced as a pang unlike anything he remembered feeling before stabbed through his gut. He didn't care. He _didn't_ care.

That councildragon was old. He was going to die sooner or later, anyway.

The Atrium door creaked open all of a sudden, and Chasm jumped. Cursing under his breath, he ducked into a nearby alleyway and watched. One by one, the councildragons poured out, followed closely by the Guardians. Chasm cursed himself. He'd missed a meeting. Who knows what information had been passed in that hall?

"Stupid, stupid," he hissed under his breath.

There was nothing he could do but watch from the shadows of the alley as the council members slowly peeled away. Finally, only the Guardians remained. The Fire Guardian had a number of bandages, and there was a patch of gauze stuck to the Electric Guardian's side. So they were the stupid ones who got themselves attacked.

Together, the four Guardians started down the street towards the Main Hall. Chasm watched them until they were almost out of sight, then he crept out of his hiding place and tried to follow at a reasonable distance. Unfortunately, he couldn't hear a word of what they were saying. Annoyed, he crept a little closer.

"…dragoness that was with you this morning, Terrador."

"I was in a rush to call the meeting, Volteer."

"But what did she want?"

"I was getting to that, Cyril. She came to me with concerns about her son. I'm sure you remember him… Particular stocky for his age, impressive control over the earth element, a little aggressive. He was on bad terms with Spyro."

"Ah yes, that little…"

"Cyril."

The Ice Guardian coughed. "What was his name again? Chasm?"

Chasm froze in mid step. His mother had gone to the Guardians? _His_ mother? Ancestors, what had she told them? If there was any chance than she had guessed something was up… Maybe he shouldn't have been so frank with her. But being around her made him so angry. He wasn't a hatchling, and she didn't have to treat him like that, and… Why had she gone to the Guardians?

Abruptly, he realised that the four dragons in question had moved ahead while he had been stuck in his thoughts. Breathing deeply in a feeble attempt to calm himself, Chasm hurried after them as quietly as possible. The Main Hall was just ahead, and the noise of countless dragons chatting to each other was starting to interfere with the Guardians' conversation. Chasm could only catch snippets.

"…acting oddly when he came to visit… more aggressive than usual… strange threat about the city…"

"…don't think he's…?"

"I'd rather not. If there is a spy… assume it is a panther until further evidence is provided."

"All the same, we should keep an eye on Chasm. …attack may have unbalanced him…"

Sickened, Chasm turned away from the growing crowd around the Main Hall. Thanks to his damn mother, the Guardians were suspicious of him. If only he hadn't gone to see her. What a stupid thing to do. At least it sounded like they were reluctant to believe a dragon would spy on his own species. But this was a serious problem if he was going to up the spying. They were on the alert now, and he needed more information than ever. It was a dangerous combination.

"Damn this," he muttered, sinking onto a stone bench near the entrance to the gardens.

Maybe it wasn't too late to pull out. He'd given the panthers enough information already, hadn't he? Even if they'd be angry with him for pulling the plug, they couldn't touch him inside Warfang. Or could they? They'd already killed one dragon and injured two guardians within the 'safety' of the walls. If they really wanted to, there was nothing stopping them from going after him.

Chasm shuddered and closed his eyes. No. There was no getting out of this now. He'd made an alliance with the panthers, and he had to see it through to the end. Otherwise… Who knew what they would do to him?

He was broken from his stomach-churning thoughts by a familiar voice. Raising his head, he saw an unusual entourage heading towards the gardens. Two hatchlings, both in monochrome colours of black and white, led the way. Behind them, the wind dragoness Zephira walked beside two female cats—a cheetah and a panther. The betrayer, Chasm recalled, eying the panther distastefully.

Some of what they were saying drifted his way, and he sat up straighter.

"Nalu said she would meet us there," Zephira said. "I'm sure you'll like her."

"I'm sure we will…" The panther sounded strangely worried. "I just hope she likes me. Or doesn't hate me, at least."

"Nobody hates you," said the cheetah.

_'Speak for yourself_,' Chasm thought. The rest of their conversation was lost to him as they moved further into the gardens. But his curiosity was piqued, and since the Guardians were in the Main Hall and the meeting was over, he had no one else to spy on. Surely the panthers would want to know what was happening with the traitor and her friends. And maybe they would know something about what was being planned.

Jumping off the stone bench, he followed the group into the gardens. There was no easier place to eavesdrop on someone, particularly for an earth dragon. The bushes hid his green scales no problem, and there was definitely no shortage of greenery. Chasm kept Zephira and the cats just in sight as he crept after them, ducking under low-growing trees and weaving through bushes.

Eventually, the mismatched group stopped at a large clearing, and Chasm settled down inside a bush with huge dark leaves to watch. Through the gap between leaves, he could just see Zephira standing in the middle of the clearing.

"Show us, then," said the cheetah.

Zephira slowly spread her wings—both of them, weirdly enough—and held the pose as though she was ready to take flight. But all she did was stand there for a little while, and then fold her wings again. Both cats applauded as though she had done something amazing, and Chasm couldn't fathom why.

"Weirdos," he muttered under his breath.

"…still got a long way to go," Zephira was saying, smiling. "But I can finally stretch it out and keep it there. For a little while, anyway. I hope this means we can move on to the next assignment."

"When's your next lesson?" the panther asked.

"The morning after tomorrow," said Zephira.

Bored, Chasm rested his head on his paws and wished they would say something more useful. But the minutes dragged by and nothing useful happened. A green dragoness joined them after a while, and he watched the awkward exchange between her and the panther with some amusement. But then they all settled down again, and talked about things that Chasm didn't care for.

The hatchlings scampered past and disappeared again, and Zephira yelled after them to be careful. Chasm thought she sounded just like his mother—overprotective. He grimaced.

Some time later, Chasm was brought out of a half-doze when the panther stood up and drew her sword. He could have sworn she hadn't had a sword last time he'd crossed paths with her. The cheetah stood up and faced her, holding a long branch like it was a weapon. They were going to spar. Suddenly interested, Chasm raised his head.

It wasn't an impressive spectacle. The panther seemed to know how to use her sword, but her sparring partner was nothing short of hopeless. Chasm almost couldn't hold in a snicker when the hapless cheetah tripped over her own feet and landed on her tail.

"Sorry," she whined, accepting the panther's hand and getting back to her feet. "I have no idea about this stuff. I'm not a fighter."

"Has Cougar ever tried to teach you?"

"Yeah, but I just can't do it." She shook her head. "I wish we didn't have to fight. I hate it."

"If you're lucky, you won't have to," said Zephira, to Chasm's interest. "We won't be fighting in the next battle, and if all goes as planned it will be the last."

"If the dragons win," said the panther grimly. She looked down at her sword. "Hunter told me the moles have already made a few elemental weapons, but there's a long way to go if they want to have one for every cheetah. I don't know if they're going to wait until then, or attack as soon as possible."

Elemental weapons? Like the ones the panthers had? Chasm listened closely; he hadn't known about anything like this. If the moles were creating weapons for the cheetahs, there was no way the panthers wouldn't want to know about it. _Finally_, some useful information.

"Do they have a plan?" asked the green dragoness, sitting beside Zephira.

"They're making one," said the panther. "There's been some interruptions, what with the recent attacks, but I think they'll strike soon. Prowlus and the cheetahs have been training almost nonstop, and I think the Warfang Guards are the same. I don't think anything's set in stone, though."

"Not yet, anyway," murmured Zephira. "How are you feeling anyway, Mari? I didn't think you'd be up for sparring."

"I'm fine," said the cheetah brightly. "Really."

She winced a little and her hand inched towards her stomach. Immediately, the panther went to hold her up. "This was a bad idea, wasn't it? Are you okay?"

The cheetah waved her away. "You've got no one else to practice with while Hunter and Cougar are with Prowlus. I'll be fine."

Chasm sighed and let his head fall back on his paws. It seemed that was the last of the useful information he was going to get out of these idiots. Just to be sure, he waited around for as long as he could stand listening to them talk about stupid boring things. He didn't last long.

It was midmorning when he left the gardens. For a little while he entertained the idea of going back to the panthers now, but realised he didn't have enough conclusive information to give them. Instead, a new idea rose unbidden in his mind. Smirking, he headed towards the nearest of the main courtyards. The cheetahs were in the city, and if he could find them, he could find his information.

* * *

Hunter wiped the back of his paw across his brow. It was only midday, and already he was sweating like an ape. All around him, the courtyard was filled with cheetahs crossing blades, practicing paw-to-paw combat, or aiming at wooden targets. Prowlus had arranged with the Guardians to have the run of the western courtyard, and his tribe had been training there all and every day since they had arrived at Warfang half a week ago.

"Wearing down, Hunter?" Cougar leant on his javelin opposite Hunter, grinning.

"We've been at it since dawn," Hunter said, rolling his shoulders. His new sword was unusually cool in his paw, and there were still ice crystals shimmering along its length. It had taken him a few days to get used to it, and he still wasn't sure he knew how to use it. It was a small consolation that he had yet to accidentally freeze anyone.

"Lunch time?" Cougar suggested, hoisting his javelin over his shoulder. Hunter thought he saw a bit of relief flicker across his face, but Cougar would never admit to such a thing. Still, his moves had become slightly more sluggish over the last hour. They were warriors, but even warriors couldn't fight without rest.

"I'll try to convince Prowlus." Hunter scanned the courtyard for only a second before he spotted the chief.

Prowlus was sparring with two guards at once, and still holding his own. Tongues of flame licked along the length of his blade. Before approaching, Hunter took a moment to admire his swift and deliberate moves. It was no wonder why he had become chief of their tribe.

As Hunter approached, Prowlus held out his sword and halted the two guards. They turned to face Hunter stiffly and nodded. He returned the nod, deciding not to voice his thoughts that such imperialism was completely unnecessary. He was only captain of the guard, and they were all part of the same tribe.

"Something wrong, Hunter?" Prowlus asked abruptly, resting his sword on his shoulder.

"Only that it's midday and your warriors could use a break." Hunter gestured at the cheetahs around him, many of whom were sagging in exhaustion. Many of the sparring matches had dwindled to a halt, and some of the archers were sitting on the ground with their bows and quivers abandoned beside them.

Prowlus didn't look pleased, and Hunter half expected a lecture on the unforgiving nature of war and 'would your enemies allow you a break in the middle of battle?' Instead, he said thinly, "Very well. Do as you will. Have them back within an hour, no later."

A little relieved, Hunter nodded his thanks and turned to address the rest of the cheetahs. He had to clap his hands loudly, twice, before he got everyone's attention. It was no surprise that they all took the opportunity eagerly when Hunter relayed Prowlus's orders. Soon, only a few cheetahs were left in the courtyard, Prowlus and Cougar among them.

Aware that Cougar was waiting for him, Hunter turned to his chief and resolved to make this quick. Prowlus was rolling his sword's hilt in his hand, staring at the large orange gem embedded at the base of the blade. Hunter wondered how it was that fire seemed to suit him so well. "How does it handle?"

"Unpredictable," said Prowlus. A brief frown flickered across his features. "I do not much care for this dragon magic."

"But the panthers do," Hunter said. He sheathed his own sword; it was cold against his hip. "If we want to beat them at their own game, we'll have to play by their rules."

"I would prefer to defeat them under my own terms." Prowlus scowled at his sword again and sheathed it with a particularly vicious thrust.

Hunter sighed. "I wish we had a choice."

Nodding respectfully, he turned to leave, but Prowlus's voice stopped him. "How long do the dragons intend to stall?"

Hunter turned a frown back to his chief. "Stall? They are planning and waiting for the right moment. If we attack too soon, we put ourselves and our troops in more danger than should be necessary. All of the weaponry has yet to be created."

Prowlus's eyes were steely. "We do not need dragon magic to defeat our foes. Our ancestors didn't need it to drive the panthers from the valley, and nor do we need it to follow in their footsteps. To ally with them is enough. To wait and stall while they create weapons that we do not need? I grow tired of this."

Hunter bit his lip to stop the angry retort that had risen in his throat. Prowlus's prejudice was getting out of hand. What would it take for this dislike of dragons to be well and truly rid from his system? He had hoped Spyro's actions during the war would have swayed his views, but more than a year had passed since then and Prowlus had hardly changed. At this rate, his personal views would put the whole tribe in danger.

"These panthers are not the same as those who fled the valley a thousand years ago," he said, struggling to keep his voice level. "They have weapons and allies that weren't available to their ancestors, and so do we. The difference between them and us is that _they_ are willing to take hold of these opportunities."

It took an immense amount of willpower not to say the next words on his tongue, but Hunter had no doubt that Prowlus caught the thinly veiled insult. His eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned like it always did when he was angry. It occurred to Hunter that this was a common occurrence lately. Even more disturbing was how often he, captain of the guard, had stood in opposition of his chief. If this continued, it could have been expected that he was soon to challenge Prowlus for the position.

Hunter didn't want to be chief. He was a warrior more than he was a leader. The responsibility was not his to carry. But if Prowlus didn't step up to the mark soon…

"I'll have a word with the Guardians." Both Prowlus's words and eyes were icy. "The sooner we strike, the sooner we can put this behind us."

A heavy pause followed, thick with words that wanted to be said. Hunter didn't quail under Prowlus's daring eyes. At length, it was Prowlus who averted his eyes and left. His words hissed in Hunter's ear as he passed.

"And you would do well to remember who is chief of this tribe."

Hunter heard the swish of his cloak, and then he was gone. He clenched his hand and stared at his shaking fist. At this rate, Prowlus wouldn't be chief for much longer. It was a chief's duty to put his personal issues aside and do what was best for his tribe. Prowlus had been clouded by his own prejudice for too long. Sooner or later, for the good of everyone in the Valley of Avalar, and for the good of their alliance with Warfang, he would have to step down—or be removed.

And Hunter was the one who would have to step into his place.

"Pleasant conversation?"

Cougar's voice pulled him out of his bitter spiral of thoughts. Hunter looked up to find him grinning almost sympathetically. "As always."

"That bad, huh?" Cougar nudged his shoulder, and Hunter knew he was expected to smile. He didn't. "You've got a face like a dying Toadweed. What's the deal?"

For a split second, Hunter thought to tell Cougar everything; all of his thoughts and fears about Prowlus and his future as chief. Then he pushed that ridiculous notion away. It wouldn't do to burden the chief's personal guard—though he hadn't been much of a personal guard lately—with these worries. If the future of the chief as he saw it came to pass, he would need everyone in the tribe to remain as unbiased as possible.

A rebellion was the last thing they needed right now.

"It's nothing serious, Cougar. Come; if we hurry, we may catch Terra and Mari for lunch."

* * *

Lunch was a sombre affair. Though the Main Hall was packed with dragons and buzzing with conversation, a brooding silence hung heavy over the end of the table where Terra sat. Hunter seemed to be the source of this heavy blanket of gloom, and she couldn't fathom why. On most days he was a source of uplifting determination even in the face of grim tidings—it was what made him a good captain—but now it was like there was simply too much weighing him down. Even the ever-cheerful Cougar was being swallowed by his brooding cloud.

They ate in silence, and Terra found herself wishing that Zephira and her hatchling entourage had chosen to stay. Instead she had gone to meet up with her caretaker—Selador, if Terra remembered correctly—and she couldn't spot them in the busy hall. Mari was picking half-heartedly at a plate of fish beside her, one hand curled around her stomach. Terra hoped her wound wasn't hurting her too bad and it was only Hunter's broodiness that was affecting her appetite.

Finally, when she could stand the silence no longer, she placed her paws firmly in the table and said in a bright voice, "So, how was training?"

Hunter hardly reacted. Cougar blinked as though coming out a reverie and looked up, his trademark grin slipping back onto his face. "Not bad. Prowlus let us go for lunch. That's a bonus any day."

"Doesn't he give you breaks?' Terra frowned. It was hard to like a chief who had hated her from the moment he saw her, but she had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was only doing what he needed in order to protect his tribe. But the more she saw of Prowlus, the more she disliked him. He walked a fine line between doing what was best for his tribe and ruling them under an iron claw.

"Breaks? We wouldn't even sleep if he had his way." Cougar made an odd, displeased noise through his teeth.

Terra felt her face grow hot under her fur. That was exactly the sort of arrogance Skulk had always had. "Doesn't he realize you need rest? What sort of a chief does he…"

She bit her lip, her cheeks burning. That was too far. Just the other day she'd reprimanded Cougar for badmouthing the chief, and now this? She was in even _less_ of a position to do so.

Cougar's laugh was utterly mortifying. He thought it was funny? "Now you're getting it! What sort of a chief? Not much of one; let me tell you that. Heck, we'd better have a new chief by next week or I'm—"

Hunter's paw hit the table with a tremendous bang that shuddered through the wood. Mari yelped and snatched her paws away from the table, and Terra jumped as though she'd been stung. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end and her heart was racing. Hunter was looking at the table, not at them, and suddenly she was glad of that. The very air around him was charged with anger.

"That's enough."

His voice was so quiet, so calm, and yet so heavy with warning that it sent shivers down Terra's spine. She shrank away from the table and glanced at Cougar. He was staring at Hunter, looking as though he'd just been slapped across the face. No one spoke.

What had done this to Hunter? Terra had never seen him snap like that. Even when he had defended her from Prowlus, there had been an undercurrent of that calm collectedness that she so admired. Now he was anything but calm and far from collected. She felt like a single word out of place would set off an explosion just waiting to happen.

It came as a relief when the charged silence was broken by Terrador. The Earth Guardian cleared his throat loudly, and Terra jumped. He was standing right beside the table. How long had he been there? When the shock faded, she realised Volteer and Cyril were standing close behind him.

"A word, Hunter, Terra," he said, and she felt her heart sink. She knew that tone of voice—that grim, foreboding promise of bad news.

"What about?" Terra asked, and wished she didn't sound so meek.

The muscles in Terrador's cheeks worked as though he was chewing on his next words. "We'll step outside. Come."

Terra stood up on shaking legs and looked to Hunter for reassurance. To her relief, the frustration and anger that had surrounded him moments before had evaporated. She had a feeling it was only a mask put on in front of the Guardians, but she was glad for it all the same. As Terrador's wing ushered her away from the table, a tremulous voice stopped them. "Can't we come?"

Terra turned in sync with the Earth Guardian, and found Mari standing on her cushion-seat facing them. She clenched her paws at her sides. Terrador inclined his head. "We have something to discuss with Terra. It won't take long."

"Whatever you have to say about her, you can say it in front of us." Mari's chin jutted out in defiance, and Terra had to stifle a smile.

The Earth Guardian was not so easily swayed. "This is not a matter that concerns you. You needn't trouble yourself."

"I'll trouble myself all I want!" Mari's voice rose to a shrill octave and she winced, clutching her stomach. A spike of worry stabbed coldly through Terra, and she took a step towards her. Mari waved her away and straightened up. "She's my friend!"

"Kid's got a point," Cougar said, standing up too. He smiled winningly at Terra, and she felt warmth bloom in her chest. "Whatever you've got to say to Terra has got to do with us too."

Terra glanced at Hunter out of the corner of her eye in time to see him nod stiffly. The Earth Guardian sighed. "Very well. Follow me."

Feeling a little braver with her friends at her side, Terra followed the Guardians out of the huge doors of the Main Hall. The din of conversation dulled as the doors swung shut behind them and, with most dragons already inside the hall, the streets were largely empty. Undeterred, Terrador led them into a large alleyway to the side of the main hall. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, Terra stepped in after him. This amount of secrecy could only mean grim tidings. Had she done something wrong?

Volteer and Cyril stopped at the alley entrance, obscuring the street like bodyguards. Terra shivered and stepped closer to Mari. Just as she was wondering if this was all some scheme to remove her from Warfang, Terrador turned and inclined his head towards her. "Forgive us for the secrecy, but it would not do to be overheard."

He sounded genuinely apologetic, and Terra relaxed—a little. She didn't trust herself to speak, and so waited for the Guardian to continue. He did so after a moment in which he merely stared at her, as though sizing her up.

"I'm sure you've heard of the recent attacks within the city. Two Guardians have been wounded so far, and one of our elders has been killed."

Terra's heart sank. This couldn't be what she thought it was…

Terrador looked her squarely in the eye. "We have reason to believe these attacks were made possible by information passed from the city to the panther tribe. In other words…"

"A spy," she said, her voice shaking. So they really didn't trust her after all. "You think I'm a spy."

Terrador's eyebrows raised a fraction. "We believe there is a spy within the city, yes. As for you…"

"She's not a spy," Hunter said bluntly, and for a moment Terra thought there was an echo until she realised Mari had spoken too. Terra swallowed; her mouth was suddenly dry.

"…we have no proof of the spy's identity," Terrador continued, unfazed. "However, given your relation to those behind the attacks, you remain a prime suspect."

"She's _not_ a spy," Mari repeated hotly. Terra tried not to feel too grateful for Mari's blind trust, but she suddenly had the urge to hug her.

"My dear child," Cyril cut in, and Terra got the feeling that he was trying to sound as understanding as possible. "We are merely observing facts. No one is pointing claws and playing the blame game. Yet. But you should know that there are many dragons in the city who will be quick to point their claws at your panther friend here."

"It is inevitable," said Volteer, and Terra felt her stomach sinking lower and lower. "Dragons will be looking for someone to pin the crime on. It makes them feel safer. And you are the obvious perpetrator to the untrained eye. If the citizens were to know that you are related to the leaders of the panther tribe, well… The pieces all fit into place, don't they?"

"Except for the fact that she's not the spy!"

"It's okay, Mari." Terra placed her paw on her friend's shoulder. If this continued, Mari would stress her injury open again. Mari gave her a helpless look, but fell silent.

"Let's think about this," Hunter said, folding his arms and looking between Guardians. "Do any of you believe that Terra could possibly be the spy?"

"Great Ancestors, Hunter, none of us want to believe it," said Cyril, looking affronted, "but you have to agree that it's a possibility."

Volteer nodded and Terrador opened his mouth, likely to agree, but Hunter spoke first. "No. I don't."

Silence. Terra stared at Hunter, her face suddenly hot again. Did he too hold such faith in her, like Mari? He had been so suspicious of her at first. She wasn't even sure she deserved this trust. But he _trusted_ her. A bubble of some unexplainable emotion inflated in her chest and she felt like a giddy cub. The Guardians looked as though they'd been slapped.

"To be a spy, Terra would have to be able to pass information outside of Warfang," Hunter continued. "But she has been in the company of at least one of us at all times since her arrival at Avalar. We have observed no odd behaviour during that time. Even if she was a spy, there is no possible way she could have gotten that information to her brothers."

He looked Terra straight in the eye, and her heart skipped a beat. She'd forgotten how bright aqua those eyes were. "And I have spent enough time with her to believe that instigating murder and assassination is far outside of her character."

The Guardians exchanged glances, and it was as though an unheard conversation was passed between them. Moments later, Terrador gave a great rumbling sigh and looked down at Terra. "Hunter speaks a truth that the citizens of Warfang are blind to. I do not question your innocence, but for the sake of your safety—and for the sake of alleviating the suspicions of the citizens of Warfang—something must be done."

Terra's blood ran cold. They couldn't banish her from the city over this. She hadn't done anything. Mari grabbed her paw in a vice-like grip, and she knew she was thinking the same.

"I will be assigning a dragon guard to your side until the true source of these attacks has been discovered and dealt with."

She gaped. The cogs in her brain stalled. "You're not…banishing me?"

"Goodness gracious, why ever would you think that?" Volteer looked nothing short of aghast. "Innocent until proven guilty and all that. We can't very well banish one who has committed no crime."

Terra's limbs felt suddenly like jelly. She gribbed Mari's arm to hold herself up and let out the breath she had been holding. A guard was nothing. She had already experienced that when she'd first stayed in Warfang. Of course, having a _dragon_ guard would be different. She would have preferred Hunter again.

Her thoughts snapped back into action and she bit her lip to keep from grinning stupidly. Why had she thought that? Though, she had to admit, having him around more often wouldn't be bad. In fact, it would even be enjoyable. She missed his company.

"Terra?" Mari tugged her hand and she came crashing back to earth with a start.

"I, um… A guard. Sure, that's fine." Terra raised a hand and swept back her ears nervously. The words 'can't Hunter do it?' were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say them. A second later, she realised she'd missed her chance.

"It will be arranged, then." Terrador inclined his head towards her. "Thank you for cooperating. Your guard will meet you at your room later this afternoon. You are staying at the infirmary, correct?"

Terra nodded. Hopefully the guard would be friendly enough. The first hints of worry turned in her gut.

The Guardians soon ushered them from the alley and went their separate ways with slightly stiff goodbyes. As Hunter and Cougar left for the courtyard again, with many grumbles from Cougar and grim-faced silence from Hunter, Terra realised she'd entirely forgotten Hunter's unusual behaviour back in the hall. She frowned at his retreating back, and resolved to get to the bottom of it. Maybe with a little gentle prodding, she could get him to open up.

It was an enticing thought.

* * *

The third dawn since Thasos's attack and the death of Elder Moro rolled in heavy with the threat of rain. Terrador forced his old body from the comfort of his cushions and headed down to the entrance foyer. Upon opening the door, he found two guards decked in armour waiting dutifully, as he had instructed. They greeted him with nods of their armoured heads, and Terrador suppressed a sigh. There were times when he appreciated discipline, and times when it was simply too early.

He followed the guards out into the cold streets, which looked unpleasantly grey in the light that struggled through the clouds. Mother Seak, as usual, wanted her lessons with Zephira to be as early as possible. In her words, this was the time when both the winds and the minds of the young were fresh. Though it was already light outside, Terrador did not feel comfortable walking alone through the streets at this hour when most of Warfang was still asleep.

Nor did he feel comfortable about letting an ancient blind dragoness find her own way. Recent attacks or no, he would escort her as he always did.

The guards were silent as they flanked him on his way to Seak's quarters. Most of the time, Terrador found he didn't notice. But on a quiet morning such as this, it seemed unusually uncomfortable. There was no need for formality, but formal was exactly what the Guard always was towards him. He was a Guardian, the highest of ranks, and even Seriphos answered to him. It was no wonder that these two were stiff and silent.

"It is a dreary morning," Terrador said at length.

The guards merely nodded in accordance instead of catching the conversation thread. Terrador didn't suppress his sigh this time. The first drop of rain bounced off the bridge of his muzzle and he looked up the street. Seak was waiting outside like she always did, her sightless eyes pointed towards them. Terrador almost raised a wing to greet her, but stopped himself.

How easy it was to forget.

"Good morning, Mother Seak," he said instead.

"Is it?" She chuckled wheezily as Terrador and his guards approached. "The winds tell me it will rain soon."

"So it will." Terrador moved to her side and layered his wing over hers, guiding her out from under the awning of her house. "But that does not mean it cannot be a good morning."

"Wise words, Terrador." Seak fell into step beside him, a smile on her face, and together they started down the street.

The guards followed on either side, silent as the grave. Terrador wondered if he had been a fool in requesting their company. The streets were bright with morning sun; it seemed folly that the panthers would dare attack now. He had half a mind to send them back to their posts.

"I trust you've sent an escort for my little student?" Seak said, breaking the silence. She leaned a little closer and whispered, "I must confess, ours seem a little awkward."

Terrador cleared his throat softly to keep from chuckling. It would not do to lose composure in front of the guards. Although, perhaps that would help them loosen up a bit. "I have, and Selador is accompanying her as well."

"Good dragon. It wouldn't do to have a young dragoness wandering the streets alone in the wake of these recent attacks. How is poor Thasos?"

"His injuries were not severe. With a few more gem treatments, he should be back to full health. As will Volteer."

"I did not mean his physical wounds, Terrador."

Terrador faltered briefly, but caught his feet before Seak could stumble. He hummed deep in his throat, bringing the Fire Guardian to mind. Thasos had been very quiet since the attack, and the defeated look in his eyes still remained. He reminded Terrador so much of Ignitus. "He is coping."

Seak was silent for a time. Eventually, all she said was, "I certainly hope you are right."

The Academy's entrance came into view as they turned a corner into another street. Terrador turned to dismiss the guards, but never got the chance. A glint of silver caught his eye merely a second before the yellow guard's head jerked sideways, a metallic clang echoing from his helm. He fell into Terrador, shoulder colliding painfully with ribs, and Terrador stumbled sideways. With a clatter of armour, the guard crumpled to the cobblestones. Terrador could only stare, his every thought grinding to a halt.

A metal bolt protruded from the side of the guard's head. It had pierced straight through his helm.

As though someone had struck him across the face, Terrador snapped back to his senses. The need to protect and defend overrode all else and a great sense of urgency seized his body. With a tremendous crack, a wall of vines burst through the cobblestones. They curved over Terrador's head, forming a kind of protective dome around him, Seak and the guards. The standing guard was staring numbly at his fallen companion, his mouth open and eyes wide. Terrador didn't look; he knew what he'd see and he'd seen death enough times to remember.

"Stay close, Seak!" he demanded.

A sickening thud trembled through the shield. The tip of another crossbow bolt shimmered in front of Terrador's eyes, having barely broken through the vine. He set his jaw and spread his paws. "Guard! You will protect this dragoness with your life!"

"Y-yes!" stammered the guard, tearing his eyes away from his fallen comrade.

Terrador gripped the cobblestones hard enough that his talons sank into the stone. His sense of touch expanded exponentially, and he felt a rapidly forming web of vibrations at his claws. Like threads weaving and interlocking together, they trembled through the earth and into his heart. He closed his eyes.

There.

With a baritone roar, he punched through his shield of vines and met a panther head on. The dark cat froze for only a millisecond, and its uncannily quick reflexes saved its life. It ducked and rolled under Terrador's charge, and he felt a burning pain slice his hind paw. The cobblestones buckled as he halted his momentum and spun around, smacking the panther with a heavy blow of his forepaw. It hit the cobblestones hard and didn't get up.

Vibrations were all around him. Before he could get a decent hold on any one of them, something landed hard on his back and pain flared across his neck. Furious, he swiped the offender with his tail, and saw a panther land nimbly out of the corner of his eye. As he turned to face it, a bolt of agony shot through his wing. Terrador roared again and slammed his paws into the cobblestones. They cracked with a sound like thunder.

Pillars of earth erupted around him and someone yelled in alarm. The thrill of victory lasted only a second before cold hard anger returned. Terrador snapped his wings wide, and the pillars exploded. Bullets of stone shot in every direction, exploding against walls and smashing on the cobblestones. Terrador saw nothing but green.

Suddenly, everything was silent. Terrador's head was ringing. He staggered and caught himself, sweeping his gaze around the street. The panthers had fled, and all they'd left behind were drops of blood and tufts of dark fur. Terrador's heart was thundering, and he barely felt the sting of his paw and wing. He could tell without looking that the wounds were minor.

Snorting, he sought out his companions. The shield of vines had been torn to shreds by his last attack, and only one dragon was still standing.

It wasn't Mother Seak.

Terrador's heart skipped a beat. The old dragoness lay crumpled on the ground, the guard standing over her with blood running down his cheek. Head spinning, Terrador stumbled over.

"I-I'm sorry," the guard stammered, backing away. He was limping, and there was terror on his face. "I'm sorry!"

Terrador ignored him. His eyes focused on one thing only: the crossbow bolt buried deep in Mother Seak's chest. It took him a moment to realise she was both awake and alive, her breathing raspy and weak as it rattled from her lungs. Her sightless eyes were wide open, and every gasp made her body shake. Terrador's mind froze, but only for a moment.

"Get help!" he barked at the terrified guard. "Go to the infirmary! Immediately!"

The guard fled without a word, the clatter of his armour echoing up the street. Terrador dipped his head and touched his muzzle to Mother Seak's. A shudder ran through her body and she gasped as though attempting to speak.

"Say nothing," Terrador ordered, as gently as possible. He could see the second guard's lifeless body out of the corner of his eye. Coldness spread through his veins. "Help will be here soon. Just listen to my voice."

Mother Seak shuddered again, but made no more attempts to speak. Terrador fell silent, his head reeling. He knew he had to speak so that she could latch onto his voice and hold onto consciousness. If she didn't, she might never wake again. But what could he say? His heart was thundering and his mind was blank. He closed his eyes and started to speak before the words had even formed in his head.

He spoke about everything and anything, about dragons he had known and places he'd seen, about the DragonTemple during the Season of Earth, his favourite season, about his training to become Guardian, and how proud he was of everyone who had fought in the war. He talked until his throat was raw, even as dragons came and lifted Mother Seak onto their backs, even as he hurried with them to the infirmary.

He only hoped that she heard.

* * *

"_Please_, you have to let me see her!"

"I'm sorry, miss, but we simply cannot allow visitors during treatment. Please come back tomorrow…"

"No!" Zephira slammed her paws down on the mole's desk and the tiny creature flinched. Blood pounded hotly through her head, and she found herself digging her claws into the desk. "I want to see her now! Tomorrow isn't good enough! Tomorrow she might…be…"

The words caught in her throat and she turned her face away from the startled mole. Tomorrow might be too late. A few hours had passed since the guards had delivered the awful news. What if it was already too late? This wasn't fair. This couldn't be happening again.

Navy filled her vision, and Zephira found herself enveloped in a familiar hug. But the warmth only comforted her for a second, and then she pulled herself angrily away. She didn't want to be coddled and comforted. She wanted to see Mother Seak. _Now_.

"Please," she implored, wheeling towards the mole again. All she got was a sympathetic shake of the head.

"I'm sorry," said the mole, and Zephira saw pity in his gaze. It only made her angrier. "I know how you must feel."

"No you don't," she muttered and turned her back, deliberately smacking the side of his desk with her tailblade. The hollow thud echoed throughout the almost empty entrance foyer of the infirmary.

There were only two other dragons in the foyer; an old wrinkled dragon and a younger dragon in his prime. Zephira knew they had to be related to one of the guards that had been present during the attack. Their faces were grim and sad, and the elder never took his eyes off the doorway. Zephira averted her eyes and looked instead at Selador. Her jaw trembled.

"We can come back," Selador said gently, curling a wing around her.

Zephira didn't resist this time. In silence, she allowed Selador to lead her out of the infirmary and into the cold streets. A steady drizzle fell over Warfang, enveloping the city in a misty haze. Zephira let her head fall against Selador's foreleg.

"I'm sure they're doing everything they can." Selador's wing pulled her closer.

"What if it isn't enough? Mother Seak is old…" Zephira blinked furiously and pressed her face into Selador's scales. Mother Seak was old and frail. But, somehow, she had always seemed immortal. Indestructible. Eternal. She had lived for so long it seemed strange that she would ever leave the mortal world. The very thought was alien. Mother Seak couldn't die.

"It's not fair," she whispered.

Selador's wing trembled around her. "I know."

They sat under the awning, unspeaking, until the infirmary door opened. Zephira heard a set of heavy footsteps, and peered around Selador's wing to see who it was. The war-beaten face of the Earth Guardian looked back at her. Slowly, Zephira peeled herself away from Selador and opened her mouth.

"Come with me," said Terrador.

Zephira closed her mouth and did as he bid. Selador didn't follow as they stepped back into the infirmary, and her absence left Zephira with a cold feeling. She stayed close to the Earth Guardian as he led her past the mole that had refused her requests. As they made their way down the corridor, she chanced a look at his face. Terrador's eyes were tired, and there were deep lines under them. It was the first time she had seen him look old.

They stopped outside a door like any other—plain and unassuming. Terrador turned to her and dipped his head. The lines of his face were even more apparent up close. "I can't ask you to forgive me. I did what I could to protect her."

Cold claws clutched her chest. Zephira opened her mouth to respond, but found she had nothing to say. Terrador opened the door with a gentle push of his huge scarred paw, and stood to the side. Fear roiled like acid in her stomach; her paws were rooted to the floor. Helplessly, she stared from Terrador to the open door. What she could see of the room beyond was dimly lit. The Guardian waited patiently for her to make the first move.

Trembling, with all manner of awful images and possibilities running through her head, Zephira stepped through the door. Terrador didn't follow her, and the door closed with a soft thud. Zephira's breath stopped. She was standing in darkness; teetering on the precipice of something horrible that had no shape or form. Her legs wouldn't move.

"Are you alright, miss?"

A soft voice broke Zephira from her vision, if it could even be called that. She realised all of a sudden that the room was lit with warm orange light from a lantern suspended from the roof. A heavy curtain had been pulled over the window, but she could see the glow of outside shining through the edges. A mole stood at her side, gazing at her with concerned eyes. It was sometimes hard to tell the genders of moles, but this one—perhaps it was the voice or the huge dark eyes—was undoubtedly female.

"I…I don't know." she whispered. The very atmosphere of the room told her not to speak any louder. It would be disrespectful somehow.

"It's alright, dear. Are you a relative?"

Zephira stared at the mole, uncomprehending. Then her mind caught up and she struggled to find the right words. "Yes, n-no! Almost, I mean…"

She took a deep breath and tried again. "She's my teacher. She's like…like a grandmother to me."

The mole smiled gently and placed her paw on Zephira's shoulder. It was tiny and soft, but strangely comforting. "I understand."

She coaxed Zephira over to the bed of cushions against the wall. The soft glow of red gems illuminated a huge listless shape draped across it. For a horrible moment, Zephira saw it as nothing more than a crumpled pile of old scales and wrinkled membrane. It wasn't Seak at all. It was as though some awful, grotesque creature had replaced her. An awful sickness gathered in the pit of her stomach—fear; revulsion. She wanted to run, to get away from here as far as possible. Then she blinked and the image was gone. It was just Mother Seak, paler than usual and apparently fast sleep. Zephira's heart stopped racing.

Though it was hard to see against Seak's white scales, there was a large bandage around her upper chest. She looked peaceful, but something about seeing her so still felt wrong. Zephira swallowed hard and took a step closer. "How is she?"

"Her condition is…mixed. She is a very old dragon. Most dragons would have passed on long before reaching her age. An injury like this is not something one of her age will recover from."

Zephira tried and failed to swallow the lump in her throat. "C-can she? Is there any chance?"

The mole's eyes were as apologetic as they were sympathetic. "It is unlikely. Only the red crystals are keeping her alive. It is a wonder she is still with us even now."

Zephira raised her paw and reached for Mother Seak's, but stopped. Suddenly, she couldn't bring herself to touch the old dragoness. She retracted her paw. "How…how long does she have?"

"I cannot say." The mole's paw was on her shoulder again, and Zephira was torn between accepting its comfort and brushing it aside. "A few days; a week, perhaps. Or even less. We did what we could, but we were unable to remove the tip of the bolt for fear of killing her. It's up to her willpower, now."

She wanted to say that Mother Seak had a lot of will, and she would definitely survive longer than that, but the words refused to come. Zephira wasn't sure she even believed them herself. Seeing her there, frail and lifeless, made it so hard to believe that she was even still alive now. Only the feeble rise and fall of her ribs proved otherwise. Everything Zephira had ever known of Mother Seak, every image and expectation she had associated with the old dragoness, had been dashed.

She was nothing more than an old, mortal dragoness on death's doorstep.

Unspeaking, Zephira stepped forward and touched the tip of her muzzle to Mother Seak's forehead. Her old scales were soft and leathery, more like the skin of a lizard than the scales of a dragon. She felt the mole step away, and mentally thanked her.

"Please, stay," she whispered to Mother Seak. "There's still so much I have to learn."

The old dragoness did not respond, but Zephira thought she felt the gentle caress of wind upon her cheek.

* * *

Warfang was abuzz with news of the third attack that had injured the Earth Guardian, killed a young guard, and left the eldest council member struggling for life. Rumours were also spreading that the chief of the cheetah tribe had convinced the Guardians to bring the attack to the panthers outside of Warfang in less than a week. It was this sort of gossip that Chasm soaked up like spirit gems and left him buzzing with adrenaline. When he caught wind of a private meeting held between the Guardians, the cheetah chief, and the Captain of Warfang's Guard in the Guardian's Quarters, he was only too eager to see if the rumours were true.

It was midafternoon, and the streets were full of dragons discussing the recent attacks in loud voices. Most travelled in large groups, as though afraid to be attacked if they were with any less than five others. Chasm pushed through the streets easily, occasionally slipping into alleyways to escape the crowds. He tried to look inconspicuous; when he reached the Guardian's Quarters he passed it without a glance as though it wasn't his destination.

Only when he had slipped into an empty side street did he double back and approached the huge building from behind. Chasm checked that no one was around before flying up to the roof. He landed on the shallow rim around the roof dome, and found a series of round porthole windows that he wasn't sure he could fit through. But with much wriggling and quiet cursing, he managed. He landed with a soft thud on the floor.

Chasm stiffened and lay still, listening for any sounds that suggested his entrance had been heard by the Guardians. He heard nothing. After a moment, he was brave enough to raise his head and take in his surroundings. He appeared to have entered into a kind of attic in the roof of the Guardian's Quarters—a round room with wooden floorboards and a shallow arched roof. Light streamed through the porthole windows, illuminating dust motes floating around his head.

Old relics were stacked in piles all around the attic. Chasm saw an old helm lying on top of what was either a dusty tapestry or a tattered cloak. There were mouldy books stacked in one of the streams of light, and a tiny lizardy creature scuttled over them as Chasm watched.

He got the feeling the Guardians didn't clean out this place often. The next thing he noticed was an old trapdoor that no doubt opened onto the second floor. Chasm crept over to it, holding his breath to keep from inhaling clouds of dust. The hatch was closed. There was a huge metal ring attached to one end. Chasm grabbed it between his teeth and pulled.

The trapdoor groaned but didn't move. Chasm cursed inwardly and spat the ring out. How was he supposed to get down there now? He couldn't hear anything from here. Could he?

Frustrated, Chasm scanned the attic once more. His second look revealed something he hadn't noticed before. There was a thin crack in the floorboards near the centre of the attic. Chasm crawled over and pressed his eye to the crack. He could just see the floor below, including one of the Guardian's doors. It seemed deserted.

Maybe the rumours had been wrong.

The sound of a door opening and then snapping shut echoed up into the attic. Chasm flinched and jerked away from the crack on reflex. A moment later, he peered through again. There was no change to the scene below. Then he heard footsteps travelling up the stairs, and the Earth Guardian briefly came into view. A voice that was not his—and didn't belong to a dragon, from the sound of it—floated into the attic.

"Why not the foyer, Terrador?"

There was a pause.

"We'll have more privacy up here," said the earth guardian's voice.

There were more footsteps. Chasm could see very little through the crack, and the Earth Guardian had moved out of his field of vision, but at least he could hear. Now all he had to do was wait. There was no way they could know he was here. And what a stroke of luck it was that the Earth Guardian had chosen to have the meeting here instead of down in the foyer.

It sounded like there were a number of dragons there now; he could hear their shuffling and thought he saw a flash of yellow scales. Impatiently, he waited for them to start speaking.

"Are you absolutely certain about this, Terrador?" That was the Electric Guardian, Chasm was sure of it. He always spoke fast.

Terrador didn't reply, and Chasm wondered if he'd nodded or something else that he couldn't see.

"Right then," said the imperial voice of the Ice Guardian. "We all know why we're here."

"To plan the attack on those bastard panthers," said the non-dragon voice from before. It sounded bitter and gruff. Chasm wondered if it was the cheetah chief.

"Seriphos," said the Earth Guardian a second later, "what is the news on the Guard?"

"They've trained well for the last few days," said a new, younger voice. "We could always use more time, but I think they're as ready as they'll ever be. We all want this war to be over."

"My warriors are ready," said the non-dragon abruptly. "I say we bring the attack to them immediately. Dawn tomorrow at the latest."

"Patience, Chief Prowlus. We cannot rush this." The Earth Guardian sounded grim. Chasm waited eagerly for the verdict. "We should have another day to prepare at least. Thasos, Volteer, how are your wounds?"

"Fit as a fiddle, Terrador, just as I said. Those spirit gems do wonders for the body."

"I'm also mostly recovered."

"Then there is no use waiting any longer. You are certain your warriors do not need the new weaponry, Prowlus?"

"My finest warriors and I already wield the ones you've given us. I assure you, that is more than we need to bring an end to our enemies."

Silence.

Chasm fidgeted; the hard floorboards made his elbows ache.

"Then I suppose there is no use in stalling any longer," said the Earth Guardian. Chasm held his breath. "We strike at dawn in two days' time. Do we have agreement?"

Murmurs of assent filled the room below. Chasm struggled back to his feet, heart pounding. This was it. This was the information he had been waiting for. Buzzing with both fear and excitement, he turned away from the crack in the floorboards and spread his wings. It was a struggle to wriggle out of the porthole window from below, but he managed after a lot of cursing and useless flapping. At that moment, he didn't care if the Guardians heard him. He had what he needed.

Finally outside again, Chasm leapt from the roof of the Guardian's Quarters and took wing over the city. If he hurried he could get to the panthers before nightfall. Ducking out of the sky, he cantered through the streets towards his usual exit from the city. Maybe this would be it; the last time he'd have to pass information onto the panthers. Maybe this would be enough. Maybe Warfang would never have to know he was a traitor.

**A/N: Survive? Take it all in? You can mull over it for a while. Next time, creepy forest shenanigans! What's that, it's already written? When did that happen? See you soon for the next chapter, everyone!**

**And thanks oodles and oodles for the reviews. You people are the best reviewers ever. Like, seriously. Thanks for reading!**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: This chapter gave me so much trouble... But here it is, just in time for Christmas! Maybe you'll even get another chapter before the end of the year...**

**Before I forget again, because I keep forgetting, the term 'spiritseer', regrettably, does not belong to me. I borrowed it from the Septimus Heap series, because it just worked way too well and I couldn't help it. D: **

**Now, read!**

**37.**

"I'm coming with you."

Spyro looked up from his satchel, which he'd been struggling to put on for the last ten minutes, and met Lumis's determined gaze. The words didn't come as a shock to him, but as a heavy silence fell over the surrounding dragons he figured he was the only one. Lumis's expression switched from determined to embarrassed in the blink of an eye.

"Ah. What I mean to say is… Can I come with you?" There was a certain hopefulness to his tentative grin.

Spyro couldn't help smiling back, and was relieved by how easily it came. Last night, had Lumis asked that same question, he'd have been tongue-tied and frozen, and every fibre of his being would have been screaming _'no!'_ But now, after speaking with him well past midnight, Spyro found he couldn't even consider denying his request. Lumis was lost and alone, just as Spyro had been when he'd left the swamp for the first time. But he had no Sparx to light his way.

"Of course you can," said Cynder.

Spyro blinked. Had he been lost in thought that long? Lumis was looking at Cynder now instead, a grateful smile on his face. He looked so disarming Spyro wondered how he'd ever mistaken him for Alta. There was none of that crazed madness and despair on his face; just hope and uncertainty. He opened his mouth to agree with Cynder, but another voice cut him off.

"What, we're letting him tag along?" Flame approached through the grass, his brow furrowed with displeasure. As his eyes fixed on Lumis, Spyro saw in them nothing short of disgust and suspicion. This wouldn't go well. "We don't even know him!"

"We don't need to," Cynder shot back coolly. "We'll get to know him. We didn't know Nadi when we took him along."

"And I still think that was a bad idea," Flame muttered under his breath. He raised his voice, his eyes still fixed on Lumis. "I think we've already got enough weirdos, thanks. Scram."

Spyro scowled. He knew Flame well enough that he should have expected something like this. It was that very suspicion that had cast them as enemies upon first meeting, after all. "Don't—"

"Wait, let him talk," Lumis cut in suddenly. His eyes were fixed on Flame with interest. "I want to know what he thinks."

Flame's eyebrow quirked upwards and he raised his head slightly. Abruptly, Spyro realized Lumis was taller by almost half-a-head. But he had nothing in the face of Flame's bulky muscle. "Do you? Think you can take it? Fine."

Spyro flinched on instinct as Flame lurched forward until his snout was almost pressed to Lumis's."I think you're a freak and a trickster just like your damn brother. I think the moment we turn our backs on you, you're going to show your true colours and someone's going to end up with a claw in the back of the neck. And let me tell you, it's not going to be me this time. I'm pulling the leech before it can suck us all dry."

His lip curled and he snapped his jaws in Lumis's face. The oracle flinched and Spyro saw a flicker of fear pass over his face. He clenched his jaw. That was enough. Flame had had his fun. Spyro stepped forward, but Flame's wing snapped out and caught him a glancing blow to the chest. He jerked backwards, startled.

"No. I want to hear his answer," Flame snarled without looking away from Lumis. "Go on, freak. Say what you're thinking."

Lumis licked his lips nervously, but didn't look away from Flame's challenging gaze. "He… He did something to you."

The snarl fell from Flame's face. "What?"

"Alta." Lumis's eyes seemed to search his face, and Spyro had a feeling he was seeing something far beyond Flame's anger. "He did something to you."

Flame's teeth crunched audibly and he snarled through them. "More than _something_. He used me. I _let_ him use me."

A visible shudder passed over his scales and he jerked away as though he could no longer handle meeting Lumis's gaze. Spyro stepped aside to let him pass, but Flame only took a few steps. With his back turned to Lumis, he shook with what Spyro could only assume was anger.

"I'll never trust you, freak. If you want to hang around, you better watch yourself, because I'll be watching you like a hawk. One wrong step…" Flame stamped a paw, and the grass burst into flames. Fire raced up the grass stalks almost quicker than the eye could follow, and by the time Spyro realized what had happened it had already burnt itself out. A thin plume of dark smoke trailed skywards.

Flame shot a dark look over his shoulder and left, leaving a patch of smoking ash in his wake. Ember's face was disapproving as he approached her. Dazed, Spyro looked away from them and stared at Lumis. The oracle gazed at the patch of burnt grass, his eyes glazed over.

"He's still as much of a jerk as ever." Cynder moved over to smother the last of the smouldering embers under her paw. She rolled her eyes and smiled ruefully. "I hoped Ember might be able to fix that, but I guess that's too much to expect of anyone. It's like trying to stop Sparx from talking."

"Hey! I heard that." Sparx hovered over with three butterflies held in his grip. He stuffed one in his mouth and chewed unabashedly, glaring at Cynder as he did so.

Spyro couldn't hold back a grin. It faded a little as he turned back to Lumis, who still hadn't broken out of his stupor. "You shouldn't worry about him, anyway. He won't do anything unless you do something first."

"But what did he do?" Lumis murmured, and Spyro realised his glazed-over eyes were not staring at the patch of burnt grass but at Flame's retreating back. "What did Alta do?"

Spyro sighed and shook his head. It didn't feel right telling Lumis the mistakes that Alta had made. What he had done to Flame was one of the worst crimes known to dragonkind. It was no wonder that Flame still held suspicion towards any oracle, let alone Alta's own brother. Lumis knew his brother had done wrong, but Spyro didn't want to be the one who broke to him the full extent of Alta's felony.

"Nothing good," Cynder cut in grimly. She shifted closer and her shoulder pressed against Spyro's. He leaned into her gratefully and let her talk. "Maybe it's better that we forget what happened, but for the sake of understanding Flame… He became Alta's slave for some time. He did a lot of things that he wouldn't have done otherwise and hurt dragons that he cared about."

Lumis blinked and the glaze faded from his eyes. In its place was sadness, and perhaps a shred of guilt. "I see. I understand. Then your friend has every right to hate me."

"But you're not…" Spyro started, but Lumis held out a wing and he trailed off.

"I share his blood. And that is enough. I'll just have to prove that I'm not a threat."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Sparx gulped down his last butterfly, patted his stomach, and yawned. "So, we going?"

Spyro turned towards the sun, which was just barely hanging above the eastern horizon. The grasslands looked golden in this light, a stark contrast to the soft navy it had been at night. All of a sudden, he felt so much lighter. "We should. If we fly fast, we can reach Enrin in a matter of days."

"The forest of Enrin?" Lumis interrupted. "I've never been there. But I've heard stories about the fauns…"

"We're going to see them," said Cynder. "The Chronicler sent us. They're supposed to know where…"

She trailed off, her gaze fixed intently on Lumis, and Spyro had the feeling that she'd just had an epiphany. He nudged her, but she didn't react. A little worried, Spyro was about to speak, but she beat him to it.

"You said you're the last of your tribe, right?" she said to Lumis. He nodded. Cynder's eyes gleamed. "Were there other oracle tribes?"

Spyro rolled the words around in his head as Lumis started to respond, but he couldn't fathom what she was thinking. Why would she want to know about other oracle tribes?

"…but many of them disappeared during the war," Lumis was saying, his face grim. "Refugees were always finding safety with our tribe. We were easily the biggest by the time the war reached its peak—at least, that's what my parents said. I don't think any of the other tribes could have survived. Oracles are nomads, after all. We have no real place to call home, and therefore no true protection in times of war. When my tribe was killed…"

He smiled sadly. "I admit to considering that I might be the last oracle left in the world."

"Dude, melodramatic much?"

"Sparx…" Spyro groaned.

Cynder had started tapping her tailblade on the ground. Spyro had seen her do it countless times when she was getting restless. "Have you heard of the Magic Crafters?"

Brief surprise flickered across Lumis's face. "The bedtime story?"

"No, the… Bedtime story?" Cynder's eyebrow twitched upwards.

Lumis nodded, and there was something nostalgic about his smile. "My parents told it to us all the time. The Magic Crafters were oracles who could control elements. I mean, it was complete nonsense of course, but they were still cool stories. My brother and I used to pretend we could use elements. Why do you ask?"

Cynder stared at him, her mouth working wordlessly, and Spyro decided to come to her rescue. In all honesty, he was as confused as her. "The Magic Crafters were real; the Chronicler told us about them. I don't know about 'oracles who can use magic', but I do know they had different sorts of powers from us. They disappeared shortly before the first purple dragon was hatched. We're supposed to find them."

A grin twitched Lumis's mouth. "You're chasing fairytales? I would have thought that you of all dragons would have something better to do."

Spyro's scales grew hot, and his traitorous tongue tied itself into a knot. It _wasn't_ a fairy tale, and it _was_ important. Or so his mind insisted while his mouth refused to work. The slightest twinge of anger twisted his stomach.

"If the Chronicler says they were real, we're in no place to think otherwise," said Cynder, a little irritably. "Unless you want to question the knowledge of the wisest dragon in the realms."

Lumis backed off, grinning but looking a little worried by the glint in Cynder's eyes. "Okay, alright. Let's say they're real. How do you expect to find them if they disappeared that long ago? They might not exist now even if they did before."

"That's why we're going to the fauns."

"The Chronicler told us they're the last ones who saw the Magic Crafters before they completely disappeared from the Books of Time," Spyro added, shaking himself out of his embarrassment at last. He met Lumis's eyes evenly, waiting for him to say something else scathing. But the oracle just shook his head.

"It's not my place to question you or the Chronicler, so…" He spread his wings, inclining his head questioningly.

Cynder hummed agreeably and spread her own wings. "We'll find out when we get there."

Spyro cast a glance over his shoulder. The others were mingling in the grass nearby, engaging in private conversation and occasionally shooting glances towards them. As Spyro met Saffron's eyes, she started walking over with Roku and Nadi on either side. He offered them a smile and checked that the other four were ready. Flame was still looking bitter, but he nodded as Spyro locked eyes with him.

"Guess we're ready," said Spyro, flexing his wings.

"Aw yeah." Sparx stretched his arms behind his head. "Back on the road again."

* * *

The following days merged into a blur of constant travel and scarce rest. They passed the long hours of flight with a combination of conversation and silly games that Zannak invented out of nowhere. On the morning of the second day, his game of 'spot the spirit gem' lasted for three hours. Apart from giving the fidgeting electric dragon something to do, it had the added effect of reminding Spyro that natural groves of spirit gems were common in the wild. They became more frequent the closer the Midnight Mountains loomed.

There had been no more distractions or detours since leaving Concurrent Skies, and this came as a great relief to Spyro. He'd lost track of time since they'd left the White Isle, and the more days passed the more worried he became. Ignitus had told them there was no time to spare, and already they had wasted more time than Spyro could count. What if Warfang had already been razed to the ground?

But no, he had faith in the Guardians and the City Guard. It had taken the wrath of the Dark Master to penetrate the defences of Warfang last time. Surely they could hold out for longer now.

Spyro found solace from his worries in Cynder and, strangely, Lumis. The oracle, despite his shaky introduction, soon proved to be both friendly and an interesting conversation partner. Spyro soon found himself chatting with Lumis almost more than he did with Cynder, and it became a common occurrence that they would talk long into the night when everyone else was asleep.

He learned of the things that Lumis had seen in his travels—of lands beyond the Midnight Mountains, and strange species that had been hunted by the Dark Army. He learned of the far north, the home of snow leopards who had fled from Dante's Freezer in the wake of the invading apes, and of little winged foxes that had been hunted to extinction for their feathers and fur said to be imbued with flight magic.

Lumis also spoke of his brother, though only sparingly, and Spyro caught snippets of what Alta had been like as a hatchling. None of these stories quite matched up with the memory he had of Alta, and he would wonder if they were really talking about the same dragon. Eventually, one evening, Spyro thought to ask about 'spiritseers' and how Lumis knew he was one—and why he'd never known about this.

"You're the purple dragon. It only makes sense that you can talk to spirits," Lumis had said. "Some once believed that the purple dragon was the reincarnation of the ancestors in a single mortal body. But I don't see how that could be true since you and the Dark Master existed at the same time."

"You said you can tell when other dragons are spiritseers. Is that because you are one? Could I do that?"

"With some training, maybe. In my tribe there were a few spiritseers. They taught me how to train myself to see auras. That's how I can tell. Maybe I can teach you?"

That was an offer that Spyro eagerly accepted. For the next few hours they talked into the night, and Spyro learned many things about spiritseers. Apparently, most spiritseers had oracle blood, and it was rare but not unheard of for a normal dragon to be one. These non-oracle spiritseers, Lumis said, were even able to see visions with the aid of certain tools. Spyro had brought up the Pool of Visions with sudden inspiration, and surmised that Ignitus must have been one of these unique spiritseers. He couldn't imagine that Ignitus had oracle blood.

After yawning for the tenth time, Spyro had finally decided to sleep, but not before Lumis had given him something curious to think about.

"I won't tell you who—consider it a test for when you're able to see auras—but there are two of your number who are spiritseers." Lumis had looked over his shoulder at the sleeping dragons as he spoke. Spyro had followed his gaze, but hadn't been able to tell which of his friends the oracle was looking at. Lumis's eyes had twinkled. "Tell me when you figure it out."

Spyro mulled over that information for the next few days, but all he managed to do was conclude that both Cynder and Sparx were out. Cynder, because Lumis had already said she was not one; and Sparx because he was obviously a dragonfly. Then again, Spyro hadn't even thought to ask if other species could be spiritseers too. It could have been anyone else, and he had no way of telling.

So it was that the days passed by in a blur, Spyro's worries about Warfang faded to the back of his mind, and the Midnight Mountains loomed ever closer. On the fourth night they rested in a valley in the middle of the mountain range, and on the morning of the fifth day the Forest of Enrin came into view. It was a huge mass of dark green that stretched from horizon to horizon, as far as the eye could see. At midafternoon, without stopping for a lunch break, they landed at its edge.

A charged silence hung around them, and cold prickles crept over Spyro's scales despite the warm air. He had to crane his head back to see the tops of the trees, and they grew so close that only darkness could be seen beyond the edge of the forest. It was as though sunlight itself was being swallowed up by the trees, and they were standing on the threshold between day and night. But what made Spyro shiver was none of this, but something else; something unexplainable—an otherworldly presence that seemed to cling to the forest itself.

At first he thought to call it 'magic', but something more fitting came to mind. It was the energy of nature itself given form and presence in the physical world.

"This is…spooky," Cynder murmured in his ear. Spyro nodded his silent agreement.

"So this is the place?" Kazan took a few steps closer to the forest, but hesitated before he reached the trees. He looked back and Spyro met his eyes. "We made it? Like, for real?"

"I think so," Spyro replied, glancing at Cynder and hoping she had the answer. She just shrugged and Spyro moved to Kazan's side, gazing at the forest. "We just passed through the Midnight Mountains, and Ignitus said it was right on the other side."

"Yeah, I don't think there's many other massive creepy forests around here," Zannak cut in. "Unless _you_ see one."

Spyro glanced over his shoulder in time to see Zannak making an over-exaggerated show of observing the surroundings while shadowing his eyes with a wing. He turned towards the forest's edge and his eyes lit up as though he'd only just noticed it. His paw shot out. "Look, there's one!"

Kazan snorted, and Spyro bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "I guess there's not much of a question about it. This has to be Enrin."

"I was further north when I was on this side of the mountains," Lumis offered, "but for what it's worth, I think this is it. Enrin is supposed to be one of the biggest forests in the realms, and this—"

"Easily the biggest I've ever seen," Flame cut in. Lumis didn't seem to notice the distasteful look that was shot his way, but Spyro did. Flame pawed the grass impatiently. "Enough with the history lesson, let's go."

"In there?" Sparx flitted over to Spyro's cheek, his eyes fixed on the trees. "We sure it's safe?"

"No, but we don't have a choice," Spyro reminded him. Sparx grumbled quietly and flinched as a gust of wind rustled the tree leaves. Smiling uncertainly, Spyro turned to face his friends. They stared back with a mixture of apprehension and impatience. "Stay close. We don't know what's in there. We don't want to get separated."

"No kidding," Sparx muttered.

With Lumis on one side and Cynder on the other, and Sparx clinging to one of his horns, Spyro stepped towards the forest. He heard the others follow, the grass crunching under their paws, but no one spoke as they were encompassed by the warm faux-dusk of the forest. The trees reached around them like welcoming arms, and every step took them further from the sunlight. Spyro glanced over his shoulder and saw the last sliver of golden light shining through the trees. He shivered and resisted the urge to turn back.

The grass had turned to leaf-litter, and it was cool and damp under his paws in contrast to the hot air that hung around his scales. Twigs snagged at his wings as he slipped through the closely-packed trees, trying to stay close to Cynder. Lumis had dropped back, and Spyro could feel him following close at his tail. Cynder pressed against his side as they slipped through a tight gap between trees, and ducked her head to avoid a low branch.

"This could take days, Spyro," she whispered. "You saw how big it is."

"I know," he murmured back, not daring to raise his voice in case he offended the forest. A moment later, he wondered why he had thought something so stupid. "But what else can we do? If we split up, we…"

Cynder fidgeted at his side and he recognised the look in her eyes.

"We are _not_ splitting up," he insisted. Worry gnawed at his stomach. "What if something happens? What if we lose someone? We can't risk it."

"We could cover much more ground in one day. And I'm sure the fauns know this place better than us. If we lose someone, as long as we find the fauns we'll be able to find _them_."

"Cynder, _no_. I can't—"

"Remind me why we aren't just flying over this place?" Kazan's voice called from somewhere behind them.

Spyro flinched at the unexpected noise and turned his head sharply. Lumis jumped back.

"Watch it," Flame hissed and shoved Lumis to the side.

Spyro scowled, but turned his attention away from them. He couldn't see Kazan past Lumis and Flame, but he raised his voice to ensure he heard. "Because we're looking for the fauns. We won't be able to see them from the air."

"Why don't you fly up and tell us what you can see through this," Cynder added scathingly, jerking her head towards the forest ceiling. The barest scattering of sunlight broke through like tiny stars on the underside of the canopy.

Spyro thought he heard Kazan growl, but there was no angry retort as he had expected. He looked back at Cynder, suddenly unsure what to do. The forest was deafeningly silent around them, and for all he knew it could take days that they didn't have to find the fauns. She returned his gaze evenly, but he had no idea what she was thinking. Indecision ate at him. What if he made the wrong choice?

They could split into two groups—Flame was more than capable of being a leader for a little while. But then, what if they couldn't find each other? They could easily be lost for even longer than a few days if they got separated in a forest this big. Spyro rubbed his muzzle. Why couldn't decisions ever be easy?

A warm paw touched his, and he looked up into Cynder's eyes. She smiled. "It's okay, Spyro. We don't have to split up if it bothers you so much."

Half-relieved half-guilty, Spyro tried to return her smile. "I just… I don't want to lose anyone. It scares me."

"I know." She stroked his paw and looked past him, to Flame. "What do all of you think?"

Flame shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking mostly bored and slightly thoughtful. "Dunno. There's safety in numbers, right? But I always work better alone."

"You do not," Ember muttered quietly. "You always get into trouble alone."

Flame pulled a face and made a non-committal noise. Rolling her eyes, Cynder turned to Lumis instead. He seemed surprised that Cynder wanted his opinion, but didn't hesitate to give it.

"We should spread out, at least," he said, gesturing to the line of dragons backed up behind them in the thin path between trees. "Keep each other in sight, of course. But it's no use going single file through the whole forest."

Spyro craned his head over his shoulder again and had to admit he had a point. Flame and Ember were squished together between two large trees, and he could hardly see the others behind them.

"We should split into pairs," Lumis suggested, "and keep at least one other pair in sight at all times."

"Who made you the boss?" Flame snarled. "I don't trust you alone with anyone."

Cynder gave him an exasperated look. "He can stay with us, then. Is everyone else alright with this?"

A first there was a pause and Spyro thought he heard the others speaking in low voices, and then followed numerous cries of agreement. He nodded, satisfied, as they began to spread out. Zannak and Kazan stuck together, picking through a small grove of trees nearby. Branching in the opposite direction, Saffron and Nadi followed Roku away from the thin path that they had taken thus far. Spyro looked back at Flame, and he nodded.

"I'll stick with Ember." So saying, he spread a golden wing around her and led her off the path.

"Guess that leaves us,' said Cynder, looking from Lumis to Spyro.

"So, does anyone want to hear my opinion?" Sparx raised his hand in the air, waving it about.

Cynder gave him a sly glance. "Let me guess, you want us to turn around and leave now, right?"

"_No_. …Well, maybe."

Spyro chuckled despite himself. "Come on, Sparx. It can't be that bad."

"You say that now," Sparx grumbled.

As Lumis and Cynder stood aside, Spyro took the lead again, feeling a little less claustrophobic than before. A flash of colour caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Flame and Ember walking together through the trees to his left. A glance towards his other side proved Zannak and Kazan were also within sight. He hoped the other three could at least see Flame and Ember.

Feeling a little braver, Spyro set a brisk pace through the forest. The leaf-litter grew steadily damper the further they went, and soon moss began to grow on the trees. At one point he thought he saw a flicker of movement in the trees above his head, but when he looked all he saw were branches and vines.

With Sparx bobbing ahead like a living lantern, Cynder close to his side and Lumis on his tail, Spyro almost began to enjoy the trek through the forest. There was an unusual lack of danger, and the air was warm and humid in a way that reminded him of the swamp back home. He thought his dragonfly parents would have liked it here.

Eventually, when the silence had grown too heavy to be fully broken by the rhythmic drumming of their paws, he tried to strike up conversation. "I never got to ask, Lumis, but when did you create the Poison Claws? You must have been pretty young when…you know."

Lumis had been wearing the claws ever since Cynder had returned them to him, and only took them off to sleep. They really did look like they belonged to him, blending with the silver of his underbelly and the green of his eyes almost methodically. "Most dragons in our tribe learned about artefacts as hatchlings. We started learning to make them by the time a normal dragon would start using elements for the first time. Not everyone wanted to, of course. Alta never really saw the fun in making things. But I did."

"And how do we know you're not lying through your teeth about them being undeadly?" Sparx quipped, turning his head.

"Undeadly isn't a word," Cynder muttered.

"You only have my word, I guess." A sad, wistful sort of look crossed Lumis face as he stepped over a protruding root and moved to Spyro's side. "I think I might have an idea why Alta said or even thought what he did, though. See, when I first made them we used to play games together. One of us would be the ape, and the other would be the brave dragon challenging the Dark Army alone. The Poison Claws were our only weapon, but they were deadly and unbeatable."

He chuckled. "Naturally, we paralysed each other a fair few times."

Spyro stared at him, trying to wrap his head around the image of Alta _playing_. "So, you think he…started believing it?"

Lumis's face fell into grim acceptance. "Either he was bluffing, or he was so far gone that he thought our little games were real."

Spyro nodded silently, unable to come up with a response. He couldn't very well tell Lumis he was sorry about what had happened to his brother. As much as he was, it sounded stupid in his head and he knew it wouldn't help anything. They lapsed into silence again, and Spyro checked to make sure the others were still in sight. Zannak and Kazan had stopped a little further back and seemed to be arguing about something. But even as Spyro watched, they started moving again. He was just checking on Flame and Ember when Cynder spoke.

"This…might be an intrusive question, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I'm curious." She was looking at Lumis. "Have you tried to talk to your brother's spirit yet?"

Lumis faltered mid-step and almost tripped over a tree root. He caught his balance awkwardly and gave a strange, nervous laugh. The grin he gave Cynder was just as nervous. "I… Well, you see, the thing is… I don't think he would—"

He froze. Spyro stared at him, confused, but Lumis didn't seem to be staring at him or Cynder. He was looking past them, his startled eyes fixed on a point somewhere ahead. Spyro opened his mouth to speak, but Lumis held up a paw.

"Spyro," he said quietly. "I want you to turn around and look. Don't make any noise. Just look."

Spyro gulped and slowly turned his head. What manner of beast was lurking behind him? He could already imagine it looming there, gazing down at him with sickly yellow eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Maybe he was thinking too much like Sparx.

"There's nothing there," Cynder hissed. But Spyro looked, and there was.

Slipping between the trees ahead of them was a pale dragon no bigger than a hatchling. At first he thought it was completely white, but then noticed it was more of a pale beige. He could see the forest through it, as though the little dragon was formed of nothing more than mist.

"Is that…?" he held his breath.

"It's a spirit," Lumis murmured. "It must have a connection to this place somehow. Maybe it even died here."

A cold shiver crept down the back of Spyro's neck. The spirit hatchling paused and turned its head, as though it had sensed them somehow. Its eyes pointed straight towards him, and he inhaled through his teeth. Its irises were strangely colourless, nigh invisible against the whites of its eyes. For a moment it seemed to stare straight through him. Then it turned around and continued on its way, passing straight through a tree as though it wasn't there.

Spyro exhaled quietly.

"Yeah, no, I don't see anything," Sparx muttered, folding his arms. "You sure you two aren't just losing your minds?"

"It is kinda spooky," Cynder agreed, and Spyro gave her a hurt look. "Come on, Spyro, you have to admit it's weird that you can see things we can't."

"I guess…" He looked back in time to see the spirit slip out of sight between the trees. Spyro sighed. "I can't believe I've been a spiritseer all this time and only now I'm seeing spirits."

"They're not exactly common," Lumis said, starting to move again. "And sometimes they can hide themselves from even spiritseers if they don't want to be seen. It might not be a good omen that there are spirits in here…"

"Don't say that," Sparx groaned.

But despite Lumis's worries, they walked in peace for the next short while. There was no sign of the spirit after that, and eventually they slipped back into pleasant conversation. Cynder regaled Lumis with stories of their adventures before Malefor's fall, and he repaid the favour by detailing the week he'd spent in the northern tundra more than a year ago. Apparently the snow leopards were every bit as hospitable as the cheetahs, if not more so.

He was still talking when Flame and Ember approached, but quickly fell silent. Spyro stopped to greet them. "Is everything okay?"

"Maybe. We're just wondering if you've got any plan; or are we gonna spend the rest of the afternoon wandering aimlessly?" Flame looked less than amused.

"There's not much else we can do," Spyro pointed out. Flame didn't seem pleased by that answer, but Spyro didn't know what else to tell him. Another glance at the forest proved it to be just as quiet and uninhabited as ever.

"Just keep looking for signs of the fauns," Cynder cut in, giving Flame a frustrated look. "Have _you_ seen anything?"

Flame shrugged. "Ember thought she saw something moving up ahead, but I reckon it was just her eyes playing tricks. I didn't see it."

Spyro raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested, and looked closely at Ember. She gave him an odd look and he quickly averted his eyes, embarrassed. Cynder was shaking her head.

"Just keep an eye out," she said. "And watch out for the others! Where's Saffron and her team?"

"We saw them a little while ago," said Flame, waving a paw carelessly, "they're fine."

Spyro looked anxiously over Flame's shoulder, but couldn't see any of the others through the trees. He would have at least thought Saffron, with her bright yellow scales, would be easily visible. He hoped they hadn't strayed too far.

"You should keep closer watch on them," Lumis interrupted. Spyro gave him a startled look and shook his head quickly. Calling Flame out on something was never a pleasant experience, and Lumis was already on bad terms with him. But the oracle didn't seem to notice his warning. "There's spirits wandering in this forest, and that's never a good sign. Perhaps we should bring everyone together again."

Flame bristled. "I'm not their hatchling-sitter. Watch them yourself if you're so worried about some damn ghosts. C'mon, Ember."

He spun on his heel, his tail flicking irritably, and coaxed Ember away with a wing. She shot an apologetic glance over her shoulder before glaring at Flame.

"You shouldn't be so rude," she hissed. She likely would have said more, but before Spyro could stop him, Lumis had stepped forward and spoken again. His voice rang loudly through the silent forest.

"The wise dragon never ignores spirits, lest he becomes one."

Flame turned around with frightening speed and slammed his paw into Lumis's chest, sending the oracle staggering backwards into a tree choked with vines. His haunches struck the tree and he tossed his head back, looking alarmed. Cynder yelled in protest, but Flame ignored her. He pressed his muzzle close to Lumis's and snarled. "I don't much care for your creepy oracle mumbo jumbo, 'specially when it implies I'm an idiot."

Lumis turned his face away from Flame. "Old sayings always have an inkling of truth. I'm not trying to insult you."

A thin plume of smoke trailed from between Flame's fangs. "Funny. Guess you're pretty good at doing things you don't mean to."

Spyro shouldered into Flame in an attempt to knock him away from Lumis. It worked too well. His paws slipped on the damp ground and he slammed into Flame with more force than he had intended. Flame's haunches spun out on the loose leaf-litter and he hit the ground in an odd half-sitting posture, held up only by the tree he collided with. Smoke poured from his nostrils as he clambered back to his feet, his side smeared with mud and decaying leaves. The glare he gave Spyro was nothing short of venomous.

"What's your deal?" he snarled, and Spyro stepped back.

"I-I didn't mean to…" he started, but never got any further.

A strangled exclamation snapped his attention back to Lumis, and he spun around in alarm. For a moment he could only stare. The tree Lumis had stumbled against was hugging him. At least, that was what it looked like at first glance. Then Spyro blinked and saw that they were vines— thick green vines winding their way around Lumis's chest and neck. Lumis struggled against their hold and his claws left great gouges in the leaf-strewn earth, but the vines were constricting and pressing him tighter against the tree.

Flame swore loudly and jumped back, and Ember gave a tiny shriek. Spyro snapped out of his momentary stun and lurched forwards, spitting fire onto the nearest vine. Lumis yelled and tried to twist away as the fire ate at the vine around his chest. It began to wither and burn, and with a great yell Lumis broke free. The vines snapped back, still burning, and began to slither upwards like snakes into the canopy. Spyro stared.

"What the?" Sparx hovered a little closer, gazing up at the canopy where the vines had disappeared. "This place is getting weirder."

Lumis got shakily back to his feet, rubbing a paw across his ash-smeared chest. He winced and Spyro opened his mouth to apologize for the burn, but Kazan's yell cut him off.

"What happened? We heard yelling! Are you guys alright?" He cantered over with Zannak on his tail, frowning. The sound of paws thundering behind him told Spyro that Saffron and the other two were coming to see what had happened as well.

"We're fi—" Something latched onto Spyro's hind leg and yanked him off his feet, cutting off his words. He hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, and all the air rushed from his lungs. Spyro gasped and received nothing but the smell of damp and mouldy leaves. Struggling feebly, he twisted around and found a vine was curling tighter around his hind leg. His mind froze, and panic exploded in his chest.

With a terrified scream, he tried to wrench his leg away from the vine. It clung tighter, and another began to curl its way around the tip of his tail. Spyro yelled and thrashed, but only succeeded in covering himself in decaying leaves and damp earth. Vaguely, he registered more screaming around him and panic solidified into a solid icy ball in his stomach. His heart thundered in time with the blood pulsing through his head.

"Let go! Let go!" he screamed, spitting fire towards the vines. He felt the heat lick over his scales, but it didn't catch on the vines. With a great, blood-curdling lurch, he was dragged backwards along the ground. Spyro twisted and dug his paw into the earth, but the dirt was too loose to halt his progress. He kicked and flared his wings, sending dirt and leaves flying into his face.

"Argh, Spyro!" Sparx howled from somewhere nearby, and Spyro looked around wildly. A flash of yellow filled his vision, and suddenly Sparx was clinging to his muzzle. All he could see was yellow, and Sparx's buzzing wings in front of his eyes. "I'm not gonna let them take you!"

"Sparx!" Spyro yelled, but the rest of his words were choked as he was lurched backwards and dirt filled his mouth. He spat it out and gasped for air. The forest was a blur around him, and the leaf-litter chafed his underbelly as he was dragged ever faster along the ground. Sparx clung like a limpet and didn't let go. Spyro shut his eyes as his body bounced and skidded painfully over tree roots and rocks. Dirt crunched between his teeth.

Sparx's high-pitched scream hurt his ears and forced him to open his eyes. Spyro twisted around to see what had happened, and almost screamed himself. Looming in front of his eyes was the biggest flower Spyro had ever seen—it was as big as Terrador, with greenish petals and great yellow spines at its heart. As the flower twisted towards them, the spines spread apart and Spyro saw them for what they were. Teeth. Great big yellow teeth.

He was being dragged straight towards them—towards the reddish chasm that opened at the flower's heart, ready to engulf him tail-first.

Spyro screamed. He had never heard his voice sound so high-pitched. Twisting onto his back, he angled his head towards the flower and expelled the hottest plume of fire he could manage. It met the flower's mouth head-on, and it reeled back as its petals began to burn. The vines slackened on his hind leg and tail, and Spyro skidded to a stop at the foot of the giant flower.

Without stopping to catch his breath, he jumped up and half-ran half-staggered away from the deadly plant. Sparx was still clinging to his muzzle, sobbing and mumbling into his scales. Before he'd taken more than a few steps, something slammed into his ribs and sent him crashing back to the ground. He rolled once before he managed to dig his claws into the earth and stop his momentum. Gasping for breath, he rolled over and blindly spat a barrage of icicles into the air.

A soft thump reached his ears, followed by an otherworldly hiss that sounded like an ejection of steam. Something wrapped around the base of his tail with a vice-like grip, and he was yanked backwards for a second time. In a terrified blur, Spyro rolled over and spat a fireball in the direction he was being dragged. It collided with something with a terrific explosion, almost drowning out the following alien hiss of pain. Kicking the thing off his tail, Spyro staggered to his feet and ran, blind to everything.

He didn't stop until his legs gave out and he hit the ground, skidding in the damp leaf-litter. Spyro rolled onto his side and curled into himself, gasping. He half expected the vines to take hold of him again, or the fanged flower to come bearing down upon him at any moment. But there was silence, apart from his gasping breaths and Sparx's uncontrolled sobbing.

Several seconds passed before Spyro calmed down enough to uncurl and raise his head. He tried to look around, but the forest was largely obscured by the yellow form clinging to his snout. Frowning, Spyro shook his head roughly. Sparx refused to budge.

"Sparx, get off. I can hardly see."

Sparx's wings started buzzing, and he pried himself away from Spyro's muzzle. He had stopped sobbing, but his eyes were wide and terrified as he turned this way and that. Evidently finding no danger, he sank onto Spyro's head with a shaky sigh. "Oh man."

With his vision unobscured, Spyro at last took stock of their surroundings. In every direction he saw trees and more trees, some with low-growing branches and dark leaves, and others with unmoving vines wound around their trunks. Spyro eyed them suspiciously, but they showed no sign of coming to life. Only then did he realise something that made the icy claws of panic return.

There was no sign of the others. He was alone.

Pawing dirt from his muzzle, Spyro turned a slow circle, trying to keep his panic under control. "C…Cynder? Lumis? Flame?"

There was no answer from the surrounding trees. Sparx shifted on his head and hovered into his line of sight. "Dude, I think we're alone."

"No…" Spyro swallowed hard, double-checking for signs of his friends—pawprints, claw marks, anything. The forest floor was undisturbed but for the shallow muddy trench where he had been lying.

"M-maybe the flower got them." Sparx shivered and shrank closer to Spyro.

The thought made Spyro's mind reel, and fear and panic merged into one. But he shook himself and forced those feelings to the back of his mind. He couldn't afford to panic now. "No. Cynder and the others can take care of themselves. They're probably looking for us right now."

"What if they don't find us? What if…" Sparx gave a great, melodramatic gasp and clutched his face, "we're lost in here forever?!"

"That won't happen." Spyro took a deep, calming breath and checked himself for injuries. His underbelly was raw from being dragged along the ground and his hind leg throbbed a little, but the pain was already fading. Otherwise he seemed unharmed, albeit covered in smears of mud. He turned in a random direction and began to walk. "Come on. We have to find them."

"Wha, buh… Spyro, wait! How do you even know you're going the right way?" Sparx buzzed over to him and tugged on his horn.

"I don't," he replied, shaking Sparx off. "But we're never going to find out by just standing around."

He knew Sparx couldn't argue with that, and he didn't. Feeling a little braver for his company, Spyro continued further into the forest and hoped against hope that his friends were alright. He wouldn't know what to do if something had happened to Cynder.

* * *

Cynder snorted and spat out the foul-tasting vine, but the bitter tang lingered in her mouth. Glaring at the damn flower that had tried to devour her, she tensed and waited for it to make a move. But the plant was lying limp over the bough of a tree, its colossal stem still smoking in the wake of her acid shot. Satisfied, Cynder straightened up and glanced over her shoulder.

Ember was sprawled not far away, her body stretched out across the leaf-litter, surrounded by limp vines. A rush of fear froze Cynder to the spot. She had rushed after Ember when the pink dragoness had been dragged gasping into the forest by a vine around her neck. She hadn't even had a chance to help Spyro. Forcing her legs to move, Cynder hurried over to her listless friend, praying she was alright.

A quick glance assured her that Ember was both breathing and unharmed, albeit unconscious. The vines had slackened from around her neck, leaving only a faint stress mark on her pearly scales. Cynder placed her paw on Ember's shoulder and shook her gently, eliciting a groan and a feeble twitch. She stepped back as Ember picked herself up and rubbed her eyes.

"What…what happened?" she mumbled, turning unfocused eyes towards Cynder. With a blink, her eyes focused and widened. "Cynder! The vines!"

"You're fine," Cynder said quickly. She wasn't in the mood to deal with a panic attack at the moment.

Ember swayed on her feet, her eyes searching the surrounding forest, no doubt for clues as to what had happened. She stared at the giant flower that Cynder had killed, and then at the vines at her feet, and sat down with a bump. Then a flash of realization crossed her face and she jumped up again. "Flame! Everyone else! Where are they?"

Cynder scowled and looked around, but she'd already come to the conclusion that the others were nowhere nearby. "We've been separated. They were probably attacked by those stupid vines too. Are you hurt?"

"Mm…no," Ember shook her head and raised a paw to her neck, rubbing it. Her eyes traced over Cynder briefly. "Are you? I don't remember what happened."

"Peachy," she replied irritably, and sighed. There was no use getting annoyed. Spyro and the others were out there somewhere, maybe even separated from each other. The sooner they sorted out what had happened, the sooner they could look for them. She glanced at Ember's worried face and tried to smile. "Don't worry. You were dragged away by the vines, and you must have passed out. I followed and killed the thing that was controlling them. We can't have gone far from the others… Unless they were dragged away too."

"Do you think they were?" Ember bit her lip and placed a paw over the heart-shaped gem in her necklace.

Cynder wondered if she did so to reassure herself. She shook her head. "I don't know, but I do know we need to find them. Coming?"

Ember nodded, and Cynder bade her to follow as she turned back in the direction she thought she'd come. All of the trees looked the same, and in the scuffle with the flower her pawprints had been dashed. But she was vaguely sure of the direction.

"I'm glad I'm not alone," Ember murmured.

Cynder smiled half-heartedly. The last she had seen of Spyro, he had been on the ground writhing against one of the vines. She had been about to jump to his rescue when Ember had been dragged past her, and a split-second decision had been made. What if Spyro was hurt? What if one of those hideous flower creatures had gotten him? She didn't want to imagine him lying in the leaf-litter, wounded and bleeding—alone. She had to find him.

They'd only taken a few steps when Ember stopped abruptly. Cynder turned back when she realised she wasn't following, and opened her mouth to tell Ember to get a move on. But the words died in her mouth when the pink dragoness suddenly spun away and took off through the trees.

"Hey!" Cynder yelled, breaking into a run. She leapt over a moss-grown rock and slipped on a fallen tree trunk, landing awkwardly on the other side. Rolling back to her feet, she saw a flash of pink out of the corner of her eye and gave chase. "Ember!"

"Flame!"

Cynder heard Ember calling, and frowned. With an extra push, she forced her limbs to carry her faster and almost crashed into Ember when she suddenly skidded to a stop. Cynder twisted her body to avoid her, and skidded to a halt at her side. She wrenched her paws from the mud and glared. "What's your deal? Don't just run off like that!"

"I…" Ember was staring into the distance, her eyes filled with confusion and fear. Cynder looked, but all she saw was trees, moss and shrubbery. "I thought I saw him… I saw _someone_!"

Ember stamped a paw, her face crumpled, and she sat down. "I swear I did. Where did he go?"

Her anger bleeding away, Cynder stepped a little closer to her friend and looked around. An eerie, cold feeling was creeping over her scales. She hadn't seen anything, and even as she looked there was nothing to be seen. The forest was essentially deserted.

"It's alright," she said, brushing Ember's back with a wing. Ember jumped and gave her a frightened look. "Maybe it was just the shadows."

"But…" Ember bit her lip and looked away, clutching her necklace.

Cynder nuzzled her shoulder. "Let's go. We'll find them."

At last, Ember nodded and slowly got to her feet, casting a final look into the trees. As Cynder turned around, she realised something that made her stomach clench. All of the trees really did look the same, and now she wasn't sure which way she'd come. Her pawprints were nigh indistinguishable against the leaf-litter, and thanks to the darkness of the forest she couldn't see more than a few strides in any direction.

"Cynder?"

"Don't worry," she said, stepping a little closer to Ember. "We'll find the way."

She hoped her false bravado was convincing, but Ember didn't look any less worried. Cynder couldn't deny it. She was worried too.

* * *

Darkness.

Saffron shuddered against the body pressing her into the ground; all she could smell was old leaves and damp earth. Someone's elbow was pressed into her ribs—it was either Roku's or Nadi's, she couldn't tell. Her heart was hammering madly against her ribcage, and she could hear someone breathing beside her head. She couldn't see. Fear shuddered through her and she tried automatically to spread her wings.

Someone drew breath in sharply, and the form on top of her shifted a little. The noises from outside had stopped. Saffron heard a low grunt, and suddenly her prison melted away around her. Pieces of stone shrank back into the earth from whence they had come, and light returned to her eyes.

The weight on her back lifted, and she saw a pale bronze paw beside her head. Saffron lifted her head and stared. The forest was silent. Roku and Nadi stood on either side of her, unspeaking, and she knew they were staring just like she was. The others were gone.

"Oh no…" Saffron whispered.

She pushed herself to her feet and looked around at the trees, but there was no sign of her friends or the vines that had attacked them. When they had heard the commotion earlier, they had rushed to help just in time to see Spyro yanked off his feet. More vines had sprung up out of nowhere—from the trees, the undergrowth, even under the leaf-litter. She remembered Nadi throwing himself on top of her—then Roku had been there, there had been a great shudder in the earth, and suddenly they had been in darkness.

"They're gone," Roku said blankly.

Saffron glanced at him. "What did you do?"

His jaw tensed and he looked away, as though ashamed. "I protected us with the earth. I was rash. We should have helped them."

Saffron swallowed. A shield of earth—he had protected them with it while the others had fought with the vines. They had abandoned their friends to their fates, and now they were gone. She felt Nadi shift at her shoulder, but couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"It can't be helped," he said. His voice was so calm that Saffron almost thought it uncaring; she looked sharply at him, but he continued before she had a chance to speak. "You made a choice; this is the outcome. You can't always be a hero."

"But we could have at least helped them!" Saffron insisted, appalled both by her failure to protect her friends and brother, and by Nadi's calm acceptance of that awful fact.

"And then what?" he shot back, his vibrant eyes freezing her to the spot. "We'd have been dragged away just like them! At least we're here, we're safe, and we're together."

Saffron opened and closed her mouth several times, but failed to come up with a retort. The thought of her brother at the mercy of whatever had attacked them—had they really been vines?—made her stomach churn. She had failed to help. In fact, she hadn't done anything at all. She'd hidden inside Roku's stone prison while they had fought; she might as well have abandoned them. Saffron clenched her paws in the damp earth.

"How do you know they were dragged away?" she asked after a moment.

Nadi's paw pointed past her, and she followed it. The leaf-litter had been disturbed in a number of places, and there were shallow trenches in the dirt that looked as though something heavy had been dragged over it. Saffron's eyes widened and she cantered over to the nearest mark.

"We can follow it!" she exclaimed, wheeling towards the boys. "It might lead us to one of them!"

Nadi and Roku exchanged glances. The earth dragon nodded and moved to her side, but Nadi hesitated. Saffron eyed him pleadingly. Why was he hesitating? Maybe he was afraid… A moment later, he sighed and stepped over to them. "Alright. We'll try."

"And if we can't find them, we'll just have to find the fauns," Roku said. "They can help us look."

"That's if they want to help," Nadi muttered under his breath.

Saffron turned around and stared at him. "Why wouldn't they?"

He looked surprised, as though he hadn't expected her to hear that. Saffron felt a twinge of suspicion as he stumbled for an answer. "We're…we're intruders on their territory. We're dragons. Why _would_ they?"

"You don't have to be the same species to help each other," Saffron shot back, frowning.

Nadi set his jaw and looked away, as though he couldn't come up with a response. Shaking her head, Saffron turned away and started through the trees, following the skid mark. Nadi had only grown up among dragons, she reminded herself—isolated on a little island, no less. Of course he would be confused around other species. She could worry about him later. Right now, her friends needed her.

They followed the tracks through the trees for a few minutes, but though she listened closely, Saffron heard nothing but her own steps and that of her two companions. The very atmosphere of the forest was oppressing, like a weight upon her shoulders. It called for silence, and Saffron hardly dared to breathe as they travelled deeper and deeper into the trees.

She pressed against Nadi's side absentmindedly, and jumped away when she felt his scales against hers. He gave her an odd look as she caught her feet. She looked away, her face burning.

All of a sudden, her legs were swept out from under her. Before Saffron even had a chance to yelp, her body hit the ground with a painful thud and her vision was filled with leaves and dirt. She opened her mouth to gasp in the breath that had been stolen from her, but something grabbed her around the stomach and she lurched backwards.

Saffron struck the ground again, hard enough to make her bones rattle, and rolled several times, shutting her eyes against the sickening blur of green and brown. Vaguely, she could hear Nadi and Roku yelling and wanted desperately to answer their calls. She kicked out against whatever it was that had grabbed her, and rolled onto her back in time to see what was looming over her. Long yellow fangs suspended in the middle of a flat green face. Saffron screamed, and instinct took over.

Her bolt of electricity caught the monster straight in the face, and it reeled backwards as the volts rendered it paralysed. Whatever had grabbed her suddenly loosened, and Saffron rolled away from her assailant. A spike of earth shot over her head, and she ducked with a yelp. There was a crunching sound, a heavy _thump_, and then silence.

Shaken, Saffron slowly lifted her head and looked behind her. The biggest flower she'd ever seen was lying broken on the ground, pierced straight through by a javelin of stone. Limp vines surrounded it, trailing like dead snakes on the forest floor. Saffron didn't try to get up; her legs were still shaking and she knew they didn't have a chance of holding her. Her heart had never beaten so fast.

"You okay? Saff?"

She turned, coming face to face with Nadi. His muzzle was so close it was almost touching hers, and she could see every detail in his vibrant red eyes. Her mind froze, and she scrambled backwards with a sudden yelp. Nadi drew back equally as fast. Saffron placed a paw over her chest and released the breath she'd been holding. Her heart had just about leapt out. Through the haze of steadily easing fear, something niggled at the back of her mind.

He had called her 'Saff'.

"Are you hurt?" Roku interrupted.

Saffron flinched and turned away from Nadi, trying to smile. It felt weak and shaky, just like the rest of her body. "I, uh… Yes. I mean, no. I'm fine. What was that thing?"

"A flower," Nadi muttered. The corners of his mouth twitched as she gave him an exasperated look.

"Some sort of carnivorous plant," said Roku. He stepped carefully over the corpses of the vines towards the broken flower. "I'd wager this was what attacked everyone earlier. There might be more than one."

Saffron's blood ran cold as an awful thought came to mind. "You…you don't think they were…"

"Eaten?" Nadi snorted. "I doubt it. Look."

She followed his pointing claw to one of the nearby vines. The end of it was charred black, as was the leaf-litter around it. Only fire could have done that. Saffron glanced towards where Roku was inspecting the flower; some of the petals were charred at the edges as well. A bubble of relief replaced the worst of her fear.

"Kazan or Flame… Maybe Spyro." She took a deep breath. Her shaken nerves were steadily settling. "They must have got away. But where did they go?"

"They probably ran away in a panic," said Nadi, but there was no trace of derision in his tone.

Saffron turned back to him just as he offered her a wing. Trying not to appear too eager, she placed her wing over his and let him help her to her feet. A tremor shivered through her legs, but she willed it away. "Thanks."

He smiled; a roguish sort of smile that made her want to grin back. A second later, she realized she was. Very aware of his presence at her shoulder, she forced herself to look away. The forest around the dead plant was torn up and burnt in numerous places, but there was nothing to suggest which direction whoever had been there before them had gone. Roku let the damaged flower fall back to the ground and walked over to them, his face grim.

"They could have gone anywhere," he said, "but they obviously didn't come back towards us. We'll just have to pick a direction and try to find them."

Saffron bit her lip and nodded. There was no sign of blood on the flower or anywhere around it, and that likely meant whoever had come across it hadn't been hurt. She hoped it was Zannak and Kazan and that they had merely fled, as Nadi had suggested, 'in a panic'. They'd find them soon enough with the amount of noise Zannak always made.

At least she wasn't alone. She couldn't have chosen better companions if she'd tried. They hadn't known each other for long, really, but there was something about her companions that Saffron cherished. She'd never really gotten along with drakes, if Kazan was anything to go by, but something about these two made her comfortable. She wanted to be around them. She wanted to be by Nadi's side.

And Roku. Roku too.

She was grinning stupidly again. Roku was already walking away, and Nadi was starting to follow. Shooting another glance at the creepy dead plant, Saffron hurried after them. Side by side with Nadi, she stepped into the trees. For some time they walked in silence, the leaf-litter crunching under their paws, and the underbrush became thicker and greener with every step.

But with every passing minute, it also got darker. It had been midafternoon when they had entered the forest, and without the sun visible Saffron had no way of telling how much time had passed. From the feel of it, dusk was quickly approaching. The thought of being lost in the forest at night sent a shiver down her spine, and she stepped a little closer to her companions.

Nadi's wing shot out over her head and she flinched, ducking. She stared at him, frozen to the spot, and he grinned. 'Sorry. You were about to walk into a branch."

He lowered his wing and Saffron saw, to her mortification, that he was right. The low-growing bough was just at horn-level, and another few steps would have carried her straight into it. She hadn't even been looking. If that wasn't stupid, she didn't know what was.

Clearing her throat awkwardly, she flashed him a smile and hurried under the branch to Roku's side. Roku glanced at her. "Are you worried?"

Saffron started. "Huh? Oh… I'm sure they're fine. My brother's an idiot, but he can take care of himself. Especially if Kazan's with him."

Roku grunted agreeably. "Let's hope the others managed to stay together."

She smiled weakly. If anyone was alone out there, with night fast approaching—well, she didn't want to think about it. To take her mind of those thoughts, she instead watched Roku out of the corner of her eye. His black scales were becoming slowly invisible in the fading light, but his green eyes remained bright. There was a kind of steady determination on his face that was there more often than not. She had become accustomed to seeing it these last few days.

When they'd first met him at Ethra, Saffron hadn't really paid him much attention. But Nadi had taken a liking to him, and Saffron had found herself doing so in kind. His steady calmness was something she had never experienced in her brother and his friends—it was a welcome change, and she wondered why she hadn't noticed it sooner. Zannak could do with learning a thing or two from him.

He was loyal, too. The protective big-brother instinct was something Saffron had always known, thanks to Zannak, but in Roku it was magnified tenfold. There was no one else she felt safer with—not even the purple dragon. But then, Spyro had been unstable and unpredictable lately. She worried about him.

Saffron blinked, wondering how her thoughts had switched so rapidly. She cast a cursory glance at the forest and was disturbed to find it even darker than before. There was no sign of any of the others; even the forest was quiet. A shudder crept over her scales.

A sudden flash of colour caught her eye, and Saffron turned her head with a sudden surge of excitement. But it was not a dragon—it was a plant. She couldn't tell if it was a flower or just leaves, but they were bright red and arranged in a cone shape vaguely the size of her head. It protruded from the green underbrush at about eye-level. She thought she could see a splash of sunny yellow down its throat.

"What do you think this is?" she said, stepping over to it. The strange flower was almost as vibrant red as Nadi's eyes.

"Probably nothing good," said Nadi. "I wouldn't touch it."

"I'm not going to." Saffron squinted at the cone flower and, upon deciding it was only a plant, turned away. She'd hardly taken a step when something thin and wiry curled around her neck. She started in alarm and, just as she reached a paw up to feel what it was, it began to constrict. With a strangled gasp, Saffron tried to pull away and it pulled back.

Pain lanced through her neck as it constricted tighter, and her breath was almost cut off. Panicked, she reared and tried to claw at her neck at the same time, but it only pulled her backwards.

"N-Nadi!" she choked out, her vision blurring with tears.

A low growl sounded in her ear and Roku shouldered into her, his jaws snapping shut on something. The pressure dragging her backwards cut off abruptly, and Saffron fell forwards onto her stomach. She gasped and rolled over, tearing the wiry thing away from her neck. It twitched for a second, and then fell still—like the severed tail of a lizard.

Roku grunted as though in pain, and a spike of stone tore out of the earth beside her. Saffron yelped and shied away, staring at the spike. It speared straight through the cone-shaped flower, and Roku staggered away.

Panting, Saffron got back to her feet. The wiry thing in her paws was a tiny thin vine that Roku had bitten straight through. She dropped it to the ground and stared at the cone flower. One of its leaf-shaped petals drifted to the ground, and a trickle of bright yellow liquid rolled down the spike that had impaled it.

"Gross," she muttered.

"You guys alright?" Nadi stepped closer without giving Saffron a chance to respond, and touched his paw to the side of her neck. "Let me see."

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, but didn't shy away as he leant closer and squinted at her scales. Her face suddenly felt very warm, and it felt like every one of her nerve endings was suddenly connected to that little spot where his paw touched her neck. She shivered as he stepped away.

"You'll live," he said, shooting her a smirk. The blood rushed to her face and she tried desperately to think of something witty to respond, but Nadi had already turned his attention to Roku. Saffron suppressed a sigh.

Roku was pawing at the side of his neck, scowling. There was something bright yellow protruding from his dark scales, and he was having no luck getting it out. It looked like a splinter. Nadi frowned, and Saffron slipped past him to inspect it.

"Looks like a thorn," she said, peering at the tiny yellow spike. It was about as long as one of her claws, but thin as a blade of grass. "You must have brushed against something."

"Can you get it out?" Roku asked, turning his head to give her a better look.

"Maybe…" Feeling a little embarrassed, she moved her muzzle closer to his neck and tried to fasten her teeth around the tiny spike. It took a few tries before she was finally able to pin it between two teeth. With a jerk of her head, she pulled it from his scales. He didn't make a sound; not even a hiss of pain. Saffron spat the spike onto the ground and looked closer. Almost half of it had been buried in Roku's neck, and it was smeared red with his blood.

"Feel okay?" Nadi asked. He sounded worried, and was looking at Roku as though he was going to collapse at any moment.

Roku rolled his neck and shoulders. "I'm fine. We should get moving again."

Nadi considered him anxiously for a moment longer until finally turning away. "If you're sure. And try not to go near any more brightly coloured things."

He shot a grin at Saffron and she smiled sheepishly, mortified. When he turned away, she slapped a paw to her muzzle and cursed herself. Checking to make Roku was indeed okay—he seemed completely unbothered now that the thorn was gone—Saffron hurried after Nadi.

They walked in single file for a short time, Nadi ahead and Roku behind, and Saffron wracked her brains for a conversation topic while still keeping an eye out for the others. She considered asking Nadi what he planned to do once this whole 'adventure' was over and done with, but thought that might sound inconsiderate or prying. Still, it would be nice if he chose to go back to Warfang with them. She could introduce him to Zephira and show him that he wouldn't be the only wind dragon in the city.

At some point, Saffron noticed Roku was lagging behind. She turned and waited for him to catch up, and he did so with slow, sluggish steps.

"I'm sorry," he said when he caught up to her. He was breathing heavily and one of his hind legs was trembling. "I seem to be getting tired. Perhaps we should take a break."

Saffron eyed him with concern. It wasn't like Roku to get exhausted; if anything, he was the one who never seemed to tire at all. Maybe the thorn had done something to him. She nodded and turned to call to Nadi, only to find him standing rigid not far ahead. He was staring away from the narrow path they had been forging, and his eyes were wide and startled.

"Nadi?" Saffron approached slowly and followed his line of sight. There was nothing there; just more forest.

"I…" He blinked and shook his head. "Never mind. What's wrong?"

Saffron eyed him suspiciously, wondering what he'd seen—if anything—but let it drop. She shook her head. "I think we should—"

A disconcerting _thump_ shuddered through the ground, and she spun around.

Roku was no longer standing. He'd hit the ground on his side and look to be trying to get up, propping himself up on one elbow. Even as she stared, his head swayed and his eyelids fluttered, and with a soft thump his chin hit the ground. Startled, Saffron dashed to his side. His eyes were unfocused and glazed, but she could see nothing obviously wrong with him. There were no open wounds, no constricting vines…

"Roku!" She stamped a paw in front of his face. "Roku, what is it?"

His glazed eyes flickered over her face, but he didn't seem to see her. His mouth moved sluggishly, but no words came out. A shudder racked his body and he coughed, his body convulsing with a sudden violent spasm. He took a great, raspy breath that sounded as though it didn't get any further than his throat.

Horrified, Saffron looked him over desperately for whatever had injured him. Then her eyes fell on the tiny wound in his neck, and a horrible thought came over her. It hadn't been a thorn. It had been a dart—a poisoned dart. The flower must have shot him when he'd come to her rescue and only now was the poison taking hold. Saffron's chest constricted and the breath stopped in her lungs. Poison. He was poisoned.

Roku's paw clenched and unclenched in the leaf-litter. With every second that passed, the tremors that wracked his body grew more frequent. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. What could she do? "Roku! Roku, can you hear me?"

"Dammit," Nadi hissed beside her, reaching for Roku's neck and pressing his paw over the wound. Roku twitched and shuddered feebly, his eyes half closed. "I knew that damned thorn was suspicious."

"H-he's been poisoned, hasn't he?" Saffron clenched her paws in the damp earth, her mind on overdrive. Poison was deadly. Poison required an antidote. Where on earth would they find an antidote in a forest like this? If only the others were here, they might know what to do. Red gems; were there any red gems around? Did red gems even work on poison?

"Saffron, I think we need to get help." Nadi's paw touched hers and she suddenly remembered to breathe. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel it hammering against her chest.

"But…but… Who? Where?" She grabbed his paw and gripped it, staring at him hard, begging him to have the answers. "We're in the middle of a damn forest!"

"I know!" Nadi pulled his paw away from hers and slammed it into the ground. Saffron flinched away, startled. His eyes were blazing with frustrated intensity.

She swallowed hard and tried to quell the trembling of her paws. "W-what do we do?"

Nadi's eyes slipped from her to Roku and then to the forest, and Saffron bit her lip. He couldn't seriously be thinking what she thought he was. She reached for Roku's paw and held it tightly between her own. It was cold and clammy, but his talons curled weakly around hers. He was still conscious, if only barely. Saffron took a deep, shuddering breath. They couldn't very well leave him here. But if they didn't do something, he was going to die.

Death. Saffron couldn't wrap her head around it. She'd already lost a friend. If that happened again, she didn't know if she could take it. And to lose him to something so small; so _stupid_… Saffron clutched his paw tighter and stared pleadingly at Nadi. He had to know what to do.

"Y-you know natural remedies, don't you?" She was begging now, pleading for him to know something, anything. He looked away, and the claws around her stomach tightened.

"Every poison is different. There's no way I could find, let alone _make,_ an antidote for it in time."

"So…so, what?" This couldn't be happening. She hugged Roku's limp paw to her chest. "We just have to sit here and watch him die? I c-can't do…I can't do that! I won't do that!"

"Saffron!" Nadi's paw flew up and she flinched away on instinct. It collided firmly with her cheek and pulled her towards him, forcing her to look into his eyes. She almost dropped Roku's paw in surprise. Swallowing hard, she tried to focus on his gaze. She could hardly breathe.

"Calm. Down." He said slowly, breathing through his nostrils. "We're not going to sit here and do nothing. I need you to do something for me."

Saffron trembled. His claws were digging into the base of her jaw and it was starting to hurt, but she didn't try to pull away. "Wh-what?"

"Stay here," he said, holding her captive with those dark, blood-red eyes. "Stay here, and watch over him. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She stared, uncomprehending. His words rolled around in her head several times before she fully understood. Panic latched cold claws around her heart. No. He couldn't leave. "_No_, Nadi! I-I can't! What if you don't come back? What if you can't f-find us?! I…"

His paw pulled her face even closer, until his muzzle was barely a scale's breadth from hers. Saffron inhaled sharply and shut her mouth, her heart thundering. She couldn't look anywhere but into his eyes.

"Saffron, listen to me. Roku needs help. He needs you to take care of him until I get back. I _will_ come back."

No. _No_. She couldn't be left alone here; she didn't even know what to do to help Roku. What if he died while Nadi was gone? What if he didn't get back in time? What if she never saw him again? There were so many things that could go wrong, and she couldn't bare it if this was to be the last time she ever saw him. She tried to shake her head, but Nadi's paw held her in place.

"_Saffron_."

"No!" She tried to wrench away, but his paw held her fast. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and anger flared in her chest. He was stupid. Nadi was stupid. He couldn't just _leave_ her. How could he even suggest something like that? "I said no! I will hurt you if you try to leave!"

Saffron raised a paw and tried to smack his away from her face, but it didn't move an inch even when she sank her claws into his wrist. She snarled and tossed her head, but his claws dug into the back of her jaw and held her in place. Through an angry, terrified mist, she glared at him. "I told you no! Y-you can't leave! I…I will…!"

"Just stop." There was no anger in his words, only firm composure. With a yank of his paw, he pulled her face closer and touched his muzzle to hers.

Saffron froze. His eyes had never been so close before, separated from hers only by the bare length of their muzzles. The thoughts in her head ground to a halt; her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Nadi pushed forward, brushing their scales together, trailing his muzzle along the line of her jaw. Rooted to the spot, Saffron could only stare wide-eyed into space. As his muzzle reached her neck, she couldn't help closing her eyes. Her heart felt as though it had skipped several beats and left her robbed of air. She was trapped between his paw and his muzzle, with nothing to focus on but the damp warmth of his tongue as it trailed along the side of her jaw.

Her legs trembled and almost gave out. She was surrounded by his scent, cloying and sweet like camp-fire smoke, just as pleasant as it was engulfing. His warm breath travelled to the tip of her snout and with gentle pressure he nuzzled those soft sensitive scales.

As they parted, the heat remained on Saffron's face, but she missed the warmth of his breath on her muzzle. She opened her eyes, her head spinning, and stared straight into his. There was nowhere else to look. She could see every pale red fleck in his rich spirit-gem eyes; every bronze scale on his face. It was a moment before she remembered to breathe.

"I'll come back. That's a _promise_." Those eyes held her for another moment, but it ended too soon. His paw slipped from her cheek and left her cold. Before she could say another word, he had disappeared into the undergrowth and left her reeling.

Saffron staggered and fell to her haunches. A sob rose in her throat and but she held it in. All her anger had evaporated, but cold fear took over where it had once been. She could hardly wrap her mind around what had just happened.

Wheeling away from where Nadi had disappeared, she draped herself carefully over Roku's prone form. Her body trembled and her eyes burned, but she didn't cry. She wouldn't cry; there was no use in that. Roku was unmoving beneath her.

"Stay alive," she whispered, clutching his listless body. "Just stay alive."

**A/N: Plz don't hate me Kaz/Saff supporters. Or Roku supporters. Or people who are scared of carnivorous plants. **

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! :'D I do believe the next two chapters are going to be with Spyro and Co. too, but no one's complaining, right? We'll be back at Warfang in chapter 40 (ermagherd, 40 chapters, what the hell).**

**See you next tiiiime, and have a very merry Christmas. :3**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: There's only a few hours left of the final day of 2013 here in this part of the world, so let's herald in 2014 with a new chapter! 2013 hasn't been a great year for this story. Up until about a month ago, RD had only been updated four times throughout the whole year. I'd like to think I rectified that in this recent month. :P Here's hoping I can get this story finished in 2014, because as of a few weeks ago this story has officially been going for 3 years. Dude.**

**Thanks everyone who has stuck with me, regardless of when you started reading. You guys are awesome, and I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. It means the world to me. Now, have some faun-y fun times below.**

**38.**

It was easy to lose track of time in the forest. The shadows grew deeper as seconds and minutes trickled past. Spyro's throat was dry from calling. No one ever answered, but he refused to give up until his voice at last gave out. Cynder's name withered on his tongue and turned into a rasping cough. His throat ached as he swallowed.

"We're so lost," Sparx groaned. He leant a hand on Spyro's muzzle. "And look, it's getting dark! I bet this place is even freakier at night. What do we do, bro?"

Spyro didn't trust his voice to work, so he shook his head. There was nothing they could do. Nothing except continue walking and hope they weren't going in circles. Sooner or later, something had to change. The fauns were out there somewhere, and so were his friends.

He felt so vulnerable without them. The last time he'd been alone like this, with only Sparx for company, had been when he'd left Warfang. That had almost ended in disaster. He couldn't let that happen again. What if… Spyro shuddered and shot a glance at his paws, terrified for a moment that he'd see darkness spreading over them like ink. But his scales remained purple, albeit covered in mud and decaying leaf fragments.

Spyro breathed a sigh of relief, but the heavy feeling in his gut remained. He almost couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to trust himself. At first, those frightening episodes had been brief and quickly forgotten. He'd never worried about them until they happened. When had he started fearing their recurrence with every waking minute?

All he wanted was to trust himself again.

"C'mon, man, I wanna get out of here." Sparx's hand left his muzzle, and Spyro missed its miniscule warmth.

He met Sparx's bright blue eyes and tried to smile. When he opened his mouth to tell him not to worry, all that came out was a pitiful croak. Grimacing, Spyro cleared his throat—it felt like it was full of sand—and tried again. "We'll be okay."

His voice sounded alien, as though someone else had spoken instead. Sparx's hands went to his hips. "You say that now. Just wait until nightfall when all the creepy critters and ravenous beasts come out to play. Then what, Spyro? Then what?!"

Sparx's voice reached a high, strangled pitch and he threw his tiny hands in the air. Spyro sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. He had to admit, despite Sparx's vivid imagination, he had a point. Who knew what manner of dangerous creatures traversed the forest at night? The sooner they found someone—or shelter—the better.

With that thought in mind, Spyro set off again, Sparx bobbing above his head. They walked in silence, picking through the leaf-litter in the slowly increasing darkness. The air was hot and humid, and Spyro resorted to holding his wings out to cool off. He had no sense of direction, and no way of telling whether he was walking deeper into the forest or closer to its edge. He was willing to bet his wings it was the former.

It wasn't long afterwards that Spyro picked up a sound quite apart from the rustling of leaves and the squelching of his paws. When he stopped to listen, it sounded almost like music—a gentle, far away tune that was carried to him on the wind. For a moment he wondered if he was hearing things, and glanced at Sparx just to make sure. Sparx had his hand cupped at the side of his head.

"Hear that, bro?" he said. "That's the sound of my sanity disappearing. Unless deadly forest beasts like singing."

Spyro frowned and listened harder. Sparx was right. It wasn't just music; it was a voice. "I hear it too."

"So we're both going mad. Wonderful."

It couldn't have been Cynder. Spyro had never heard her sing, and he doubted she'd think the middle of a dark forest was the best place for it. But then, who would? If it wasn't a 'deadly forest beast', like Sparx said, maybe the owner of the voice could help them. "Let's go, Sparx. Whoever it is could be friendly."

He started in the direction of the singing, listening hard and not bothering to see if Sparx was going to follow. He'd panic and fly after him sooner or later, anyway. Sure enough, a moment later, Sparx was back at his side. "You have the _best_ ideas, you know? Let's go _towards_ the creepy voice."

"You're too paranoid, Sparx."

"I'm just the right amount of paranoid, thank you very much. And I'm still alive to prove it!"

Spyro rolled his eyes and jumped over the large roots of a massive tree. It was caked with moss, like most of the other trees nearby. In fact, the further he walked, the mossier the trees became. When the muddy leaf-litter under his paws was replaced with something softer, Spyro looked down and saw the ground was too. Patches of moss grew everywhere, creating a green blanket that covered large sections of the forest floor. It was damp and smelled faintly of rainwater.

The music sounded closer now. He could easily distinguish that it was indeed a singing voice, and that it sounded distinctly female. His interest piqued, Spyro crept along the mossy floor towards its source. It had to be just around those bushes…

"Spyro, don't do it!"

Spyro froze for a millisecond until he realised it was just Sparx. He shot a glare over his shoulder, but Sparx flew into his face and obscured his vision. Only when he stepped back did he realise the dragonfly was waving his arms around frantically.

"Remember those old legends that mum used to tell us, about the creepy ladies that sang to lure their victims in and then ate them? _Remember_?"

"Ladybugs," Spyro corrected, rolling his eyes. "And those were just stories. Remember when we actually saw a ladybug once? They're smaller than you!"

"But what if there's a… If it's a different… Spyro!"

Ignoring Sparx's protests, Spyro crept around a large moss-covered tree and slipped between two tall spiky-leaved bushes. The first thing he noticed on the other side was a warm yellow glow. It was so out of place in the quiet darkness of the forest that he stopped and stared for a moment, wondering if he was seeing it right. Then he blinked and saw the scene that the light illuminated.

It was trapped inside a small lantern that hung on the branch of a tree nearby. Beside it, standing with its back to Spyro, was the strangest creature he'd ever seen. It stood on two brown-furred legs that ended in cloven hooves. From the waist up it was hairless and pinkish, but its chest was covered by green material. All he could see of its head was long auburn fur that fell from its crown to its shoulders.

As Spyro gaped, he realised that it was this creature who was singing. He didn't understand the language, but her voice was soft and calming. She was reaching with slender, furless hands for a huge dark blue fruit hanging from the tree. At second glance, Spyro saw numerous similar fruits hanging from its branches and others stacked in a basket on the ground.

A tiny rustle announced Sparx's arrival. At first he was silent, and Spyro remembered that Sparx had never seen the picture in the Chronicler's book. He was certain that this creature was a faun, but he didn't get the chance to tell Sparx.

"What the heck is that?" Sparx said in a loud whisper that carried like a shout in the silent forest. "Some kind of goat?"

Spyro opened his mouth to correct Sparx, but the words died in his throat when the faun abruptly stopped singing and spun around. The fruit hit Spyro on the snout before he realised she'd thrown it, and he reeled backwards with a pained yell as it splattered across his face.

"Who are you calling a goat?" said an angry female voice as Spyro tried desperately to paw the sticky pulp from his eyes. It burned, and the forest blurred into shapeless blobs of colour through his tears of pain. His muzzle throbbed.

Only then did he realise Sparx was laughing. It wasn't just any tiny snicker, either. He was laughing so hard he was gasping and punching his fist into Spyro's horn. Furious, Spyro swiped the worst of the fruit off his face and glared at Sparx. He was doubled over in the air, clutching his stomach with one hand.

"D-Did you see that?! You got totally _owned_, Spyro!"

Spyro snorted smoke from his nostrils and contemplated freezing Sparx in a block of ice. It was his fault anyway. But a new voice snapped his attention away from the guffawing dragonfly.

"Alright, which one of you punks said that?" The faun tapped one of her hooves on the moss, folding her arms over her bare midriff.

Spyro stared. She was even stranger from the front, bearing the vague build of a female cheetah with less fur and hooves instead of paws. Her face was very flat, with a small nose that was nothing like a muzzle. A strand of auburn hair fell over her angry, almond-shaped eyes—dark green, just like the fabric around her chest.

He realised she'd asked a question and, almost automatically, he pointed a wing at Sparx. She turned her glare on him and cocked a slender auburn eyebrow. Sparx had finally recovered from his laughing fit and was wiping tears from his eyes. He grinned shakily. "But no, seriously, what are you?"

She bristled like Cynder did whenever she was offended. Spyro winced on instinct. "I'm a faun, you dork!"

Sparx held his hands up defensively. "Hey, whoa, no need for the aggro. You're a what, now? Wait… Is this who we're looking for, bro?"

"She's a faun," said Spyro as the first inkling of relief took hold. "So yes."

The faun frowned and the anger faded from her face, to be replaced by suspicion and curiosity. "You were looking for me?"

"Not _you_," Sparx drawled. "All of you weird goat things."

The anger returned in a flash and she bared a set of blunt white teeth before Spyro hurriedly intervened. "Fauns, Sparx."

"Yeah, yeah."

The faun huffed and swept her head-fur out of her eyes, fixing them on Spyro. "Since your friend there insists on being rude… Mind telling me _why_ a dragon and his fly are looking for my fauns?"

"Because we're your biggest fans, duh."

"Sparx." Spyro shot him a dirty look and hoped that shut him up for once. Sparx averted his eyes, whistling innocently, and Spyro sighed. Shaking his head, he looked up at the faun. "We were sent by a wise dragon called the Chronicler to meet with you. He said you might have some information that we need."

"Information…how?" She made an odd circular motion with her hand, and Spyro took it as a motion to elaborate.

He bit his lip and looked at Sparx. Would this lone faun know anything about the Magic Crafters? And if not, would she think them crazy for asking about them? She was the only friendly life form they'd come across since entering the forest, and his friends were still lost somewhere out there. He couldn't risk driving her away with strange questions about a species that was no longer supposed to exist.

"Magic, fairytales, bedtime stories, the whole shebang!" Sparx spread his arms in a wide arc, his expression blunt. "Come on, what more do you want? We've been lost in here for hours."

"Right." The faun considered them in silence, and Spyro fidgeted. He wouldn't know what to do if she refused to help. They'd be back to square one, alone and lost in a hostile forest with no idea what had happened to their friends. Eventually, the faun shrugged and turned away.

"Come on, then," she called over her shoulder as she unhooked the lantern from the branch. "It's not safe to be out here after dark, anyway. I'll take you to the Grotto."

Relief burst in Spyro's chest like a warm flame roaring to life. He hurried after the faun, unable to keep the grin off his face. "You mean you'll help us?"

The faun picked up her basket of fruits and turned to him, a sly smile on her face. "Sure. If you'll help me."

She dropped the basket at his paws and turned away. "Carry this."

Dumbfounded, Spyro stared from her to the basket and back again. Exchanging a shrug with Sparx, he took the handle of the woven basket in his mouth and lifted it. A weight he hadn't been expecting pressed down on his jaws and neck, and he couldn't stifle a groan. Shutting his eyes, he lifted it high and, with one eye open, staggered after the faun. His teeth felt like they were groaning in protest. Sparx snickered.

"I'm Elora, by the way," said the faun over her shoulder as she led the way through the bushes, lighting the shadows with her lantern.

"'Rrro..." Spyro grunted around the handle, staggering over a small root and almost dropping the lot. He snarled and lifted the basket higher, trying to ignore the pain currently taking root in his jaw muscles.

Elora smirked at him, "Say again?"

"He's Spyro," Sparx sniggered. He puffed out his chest, and Spyro would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been so intent on holding the basket up. "And I am the mighty Sparx, scourge of the Dragon Realms!"

He leant closer to Elora's head, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth, and whispered, "I'm working on getting it changed to the Dragonfly Realms. Got a nice ring to it, am I right?"

Spyro tried to turn his laugh into a cough, but with the basket handle in his mouth it became a full coughing fit. He dropped the basket and gasped for air, grinning despite his watering eyes. Elora laughed suddenly.

"You two are an odd pair," she said, and there was something teasing about her grin. "I think my father will like you."

* * *

Nadi wanted to scream.

A single curse repeated over and over in his head as he thundered recklessly through the forest. His limbs burned with every leap, and the pads of his paws were raw and aching, but he couldn't stop. Whenever he let himself think, horrible images bombarded his thoughts and set ice through his veins. Roku dying; Saffron terrified—his only friends alone and vulnerable in the forest.

Screw the purple dragon. Screw all the rest of them. Only Roku and Saffron mattered. They were his friends. He couldn't let anything happen to them. Again, he cursed himself and pushed every ounce of raw fury into his blind charge. The forest was a blur around him; trees raced towards him and skimmed his wings as he passed, and vines slapped at his face before he noticed they were there.

Damn forest. Damn plant. Damn the purple dragon for bringing them here. Damn himself for making a promise he didn't know if he could keep.

He had to find help. He had to get back. But he knew that if he stopped and turned around now, he wouldn't even know how to get back to them. If he kept moving forward, if he didn't look back, maybe he could make it. Maybe he could find someone; anyone.

Nadi's paws slipped as he came down hard on the other side of a protruding root. The leaf-litter scattered under his paws and the forest seemed to tip sideways. Panic lanced through him, and then his shoulder struck the ground with a painful thud that rattled through his bones. He lay still for only a second, the world a blur around him, before desperation forced him back to his senses.

Get up. _Get up_. Nadi snarled and forced himself to his feet, ignoring the ache that was quickly spreading through his whole body. He staggered and started running again, stumbling the first few steps before he found his rhythm. There was a faint red mist in front of his eyes that he knew was the result of exhaustion. He didn't know how long he'd been running, only that he had to keep going.

Keep going, or he'd lose his friends for good.

Roku.

Saffron.

He screamed a curse to the forest so loud that it made his throat hurt. It didn't matter who or what heard him. He hated this forest. He hated everything about this forest. It could all burn to the ground; he'd do it himself if he was a fire dragon.

His paw caught a root and he stumbled for a second time, but caught himself before he fell. He skidded on the leaf-litter, bracing himself, until his flank collided with the trunk of a tree. Gasping for breath, Nadi leant against the tree and tried to blink the red mist from his eyes.

"D-Damn. Damn." He slammed his paw into the ground and it sank into the muddy leaf-litter. The forest was quiet and still around him. It hadn't been this dark before. A shudder of panic made his aching muscles shake. He took a deep breath. "Help! Dammit, help! If there's anyone out there, _help_!"

There was no response. No rustle of leaves, no faint footsteps in the distance. He couldn't do it. He'd failed. His body was exhausted. Nadi didn't try to stop his legs from giving way beneath him. He slumped against the base of the tree, aching and defeated, and closed his eyes. He'd lost. He'd lied to Saffron.

Maybe Roku was already dead.

An ache lanced through his chest; he knew it had nothing to do with physical injuries. Nadi curled into himself and dug his claws into his foreleg, relishing the sudden spike of controllable pain. He had nothing left except curses repeating like a mantra in his head.

Maybe it would be better if he died here too. Maybe it would be better…

Nadi welcomed the approach of darkness as he closed his eyes. His leg throbbed where his talons pierced through the scales, but even that pain dulled and faded as time slipped away around him. The darkness twisted in front of his eyes, and drew him deeper into welcome oblivion.

A whisper of wind brushed his cheek. Startled from a stupor of self-loathing and despair, Nadi raised his head quickly. He wasn't sure how long he had been comatose at the base of the tree, but the darkness wasn't much deeper than before. The scales on the back of his neck prickled, but when he turned his head all he saw was silent forest. It was strange; he felt eyes on him, watching him.

The feeling returned to his limbs as his heart started to beat faster. Nadi clambered awkwardly to his paws, eying the forest as he did so. It hadn't changed. There was no sign of any life, but for the skid mark where he had slid on the leaf-litter. He flared his nostrils, but received only the scent of the damp forest. There was nothing.

But something was watching.

Nadi bared his teeth, daring whatever creature was spying to come out. He could take it, whatever it was. It _and_ its stupid forest.

He felt it again out of nowhere—a tongue of wind flicking across his scales. It was cold and fresh, unlike the heavy warm air of the forest. Nadi shivered and spun around, his bravado slipping. A pale glow shimmered in the corner of his eye, and he snapped his gaze towards it. His breath froze in his chest.

Between two ancient, moss-grown trees stood a white figure.

It was about as big as a full-grown dragon, but its shape and features were indistinguishable. Nadi was rooted to the spot. Every thought had scattered from his mind like ash on the wind, and time itself felt like it had ground to a halt. It was just him and the white figure.

With dainty steps that made no noise, the apparition glided closer. The glow was no longer as bright as Nadi had first thought, and as it came closer he saw it in clear. It _was_ a dragon. Its pale grey-blue scales were oddly transparent and he could faintly see the forest through it. The tips of its wings curled daintily, and there were blue markings painted under its eyes and down its muzzle.

Its eyes were clear and colourless.

Nadi held his breath as the ghostly figure stopped in front of him, so close that he could have stepped forward and touched it. It inclined its head as though gesturing for something, but Nadi couldn't fathom what. Something about the apparition calmed him; he knew it wouldn't do him harm. As it turned away, Nadi let out the breath he'd been holding.

Looking at the dragon's retreating back, Nadi saw the blue markings continued all the way down its neck to its tail. He was almost certain it was female. He was also certain she wasn't alive. Maybe she wasn't even there at all, and he was going mad. Maybe he'd fallen asleep at the base of a tree and this was all a bizarre dream.

The spirit dragoness turned her head and her colourless eyes held him so intently that he couldn't look away. She made another gesture with her head, and he realised at last that she wanted him to follow. There wasn't much else he could do. Nadi took one step after her, and then another. The spirit echoed his movements, and suddenly he was bounding through the trees after her.

His body felt rejuvenated and full of adrenaline as he thundered through the forest once more, keeping his unusual guide in sight. She didn't make any noise, and trees and plants seemed to pass straight through her. Nadi was forced to duck around those she passed through, and he struggled to keep pace. It was his only objective, and all other thoughts faded to the back of his mind as he raced the spirit through the trees.

His breath was icy in his lungs, but the heat of the forest was quickly becoming unbearable. The more they ran, the faster the spirit seemed to get. It didn't take long for Nadi's legs to start aching again, and his side throbbed from where he had collided with the tree earlier. He gritted his teeth and forced through the pain as the red mist began to creep back into the corners of his vision.

He had to keep the spirit in sight. It was all that mattered.

Quite suddenly, she disappeared into the undergrowth. Her transparent tail flicked out of sight, and a thrill of alarm shot through him. Panicked, Nadi leaped after her with every last ounce of energy he had left. The bushes scraped at his scales as he leapt through, and he shut his eyes on instinct. His paws hit the ground with a sudden jolt, and the rest of his body soon followed.

Nadi lay gasping for breath, sprawled in the moss, his vision spinning and blurring around him. Somewhere nearby, something hit the ground with a soft _thud_ and a startled voice yelled something in a language he didn't understand.

There was a scuffle of some large creature moving closer, and Nadi snapped back to his senses. Snarling, he rolled into a half-sitting position and tried to glare at whoever it was. But the world spun into a blur of brown and green, and it was a moment before his vision settled. When it did, he found himself staring into the face of a creature the likes of which he'd never seen before.

The snarl dropped from his face.

* * *

Saffron paced backwards and forwards, never moving more than a few steps from Roku's side and constantly shooting glances at the spot where Nadi had disappeared. Though she listened hard, she heard only the noises of the forest—the rustle of wind through the canopy; the quiet song of a bird hidden in the trees. Once, she thought she heard a low whistling sound far in the distance, accompanied by the far-away footsteps of some large beast moving through the forest. She'd frozen to the spot, terrified, but the sounds had gradually faded from earshot.

She hadn't heard anything since, least of all the sound she most wanted to hear. As the darkness deepened, and so did her sense of vulnerability, Saffron stopped pacing and sat at Roku's side. With a shaking paw, she checked the pulse in his neck for the third time. The steady—albeit weak—beat under her paw offered a shred of comfort. His scales were so cold.

"You can't die," Saffron murmured, lying down beside him. She stretched her wing out and draped it over his body, determined to offer him some of her heat. His eyes remained closed and he didn't stir, except for the fluttering rise and fall of his ribs. Saffron blinked furiously. "We still need you. You're our friend. Think of your brother. He's waiting for you to come back home. And…and everyone else. We can't go back without you."

She gripped his paw; it was limp in her grasp. It terrified her. "Just stay alive. That's all I ask."

Taking a deep breath, Saffron looked away and tried to find something else to occupy her mind. There was nothing she could do for Roku now. She was helpless. There was still no sign of Nadi's return, and she wasn't sure how long it had been. What if something awful had happened to him out there? More carnivorous plants; more poisonous flowers? She should have gone with him. But then Roku would have been alone.

Saffron clenched her jaws and stood up. She couldn't handle just sitting there, doing nothing. It was all too much. Why did she have to be so useless? It was a moment before she realised she had started pacing again. Saffron closed her eyes, and suddenly memories of moments before were playing behind her eyelids. Nadi's face only inches away; the warmth of his muzzle as it pressed against hers; the shock that had rendered her paralysed.

Her face hot, Saffron forced her eyes open and checked on Roku again. There was no change; his ribs still moved with every weak breath. She hoped she was imagining the slowly greying pallor of his scales. Saffron breathed in shakily and cast a hopeful glance into the underbrush. No noises. No Nadi.

What would her brother think? Startled by the sudden thought, Saffron froze mid-step. What would any of the others think if…when they found out? The sick feeling deep in her stomach worsened sharply, and Saffron sat down. Maybe she was thinking too much into it. Maybe that kiss hadn't meant anything. Had he only done it on the spur of the moment? To calm her down from her state of panic?

Maybe he didn't like her that way at all. But if he did… What next? Would they start courting? Even become…mates? The blood rushed to Saffron's face and she quickly shook her head. It was too early to think about things like that. And this wasn't the moment for thinking any such things.

Frustrated, Saffron whirled around and continued pacing. Why had he done that? Now all she could think of was him. As if that hadn't been bad enough already. Her head felt like it was splitting. Roku was dying, Nadi had kissed her, and now she was useless and stranded in the middle of a hostile forest. It was too much.

"Stupid plant!" Saffron screamed, whirling around and firing a bolt of electricity into the bushes. They exploded into fragments of leaves and twigs. As the debris fluttered down to join the leaf-litter, Saffron snorted through her nostrils and glared at what remained of them. If only that damn flower was there. If she hadn't been terrified of leaving Roku, she'd have gone back and given it a piece of her mind. "This is all its fault! That…that…stupid!"

Another bolt exploded what remained of the underbrush. Leaves fluttered to the ground, and the faint smell of burning foliage filled the air. Her throat suddenly tight, Saffron sat down heavily. Anger still prickled at her insides, but exhaustion was settling in on her body and mind. Her eyes fell on Roku, so limp and lifeless, a shadow of the strong dragon he usually was. A stinging burn took root behind her eyes.

With a choked swear, Saffron slammed her paw into the earth and sank to her belly. "It's not fair. It's not…"

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, fighting back tears. As time passed, she realised she was acutely aware of everything around her. The rustle of the leaves; the damp touch of leaf-litter against her cheek; the beating of her own heart. Inexplicable terror gnawed an icy hollow in her stomach, and her breath quickened. There were enemies all around her. She was helpless to do anything. Paralysed. Useless.

A voice called in the distance, and Saffron scrambled upright with a yelp of fear. She whirled around, expecting monsters of any design to come bearing down upon her, but the forest around her was empty of life. Her heart felt like it was going to fly out her mouth, and she held a paw to her chest. What had startled her? She listened hard, but heard nothing.

Saffron shot a worried glance at Roku, but he was still senseless and breathing. She licked her lips and took a step back towards him. The voice called again. Saffron flinched and raised her head, wide-eyed.

"Nadi?" The forest seemed to swallow up her call. Her chest tight, Saffron swallowed hard and called again. "Nadi?"

At first there was silence. Then…

"Saffron!"

She could hear the rustle of bushes now as some creature thundered through the underbrush towards her. Her chest unclenched, and Saffron dared to let herself hope.

"Nadi!" she called again. "I'm here! We're here!"

He exploded through the bushes without warning, and all Saffron saw was a blur of bronze scales before she threw herself at him. Her paws found his shoulders blindly, and she pulled herself against his chest. He stiffened, but only for a second, and then paws wrapped around her back and pulled her into an almost crushing embrace. Warm breath tickled her neck as he buried his face in her scales.

Saffron drew in a shuddering breath and, though all she wanted was to stay in his paws, she pulled away. His eyes searched her face, confused and worried, and the words stuck in her throat. She forced them out. "I-I don't know if he's…"

The fear in Nadi's eyes deepened and he whirled away from her. He only took a step towards Roku before he froze. Saffron had never seen him look so stricken. The bushes rustled for a second time, and she spun around in alarm. A bizarre, alien creature stumbled into her path, and she might have screamed if she hadn't been so startled. A strangled noise that she hadn't meant to make escaped her throat.

"Sorry, sorry!" said the creature, backing up a step, a lantern swinging from his hand. Saffron breathed in through her teeth as she truly saw it for what it was. The deer-like legs, the hairless torso, the flat fine-featured face—it was a faun, just like the ones she had seen in the Chronicler's book. Judging from the shape of its body and the sound of its voice, it was male.

"Where's…" he started to say, but trailed off as he laid eyes on Roku.

Saffron didn't get a chance to speak before the faun was at Roku's side, laying his lantern down. It cast a warm yellow glow across Roku's listless body. She held her breath. Nadi hesitated, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to force the faun away from his injured friend. His legs shook and he backed away with obvious effort. Letting out a sigh, Saffron crept to his side. She wasn't sure if he wanted her there—if he'd have preferred she kept her distance—but those thoughts left her mind as soon as his wing wrapped around her shoulders.

He tugged her against his flank without a word, and without taking his eyes off Roku. Saffron could have melted with relief. She let her head rest against his neck, and let the warmth of his presence comfort her. Everything was okay. Everything, except…

"Will he be okay?" Nadi demanded.

The faun had his hairless hand pressed to Roku's neck, and he looked up sharply. "He's alive. Just barely. You said he was poisoned; did you see what did it?"

"It was…" Nadi trailed off, staring down the path that they had walked some time ago. The flower had long since vanished from view, and Saffron wasn't sure how long it would take to get back to it. Time wasn't something they had on their side.

"It was back that way," she said, pulling away from under Nadi's wing and pointing down the path. "I…I don't know how far."

Saffron looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. If only they'd stopped sooner; it would still be in sight. What if they needed the plant to help Roku?

"What did it look like?" the faun asked.

Saffron mouthed wordlessly, but Nadi didn't miss a beat. "A flower. Bright red, cone-shaped. It shot a yellow dart into his neck."

"Blood Trumpet," said the faun without pause. He clicked his tongue and looked down at Roku. "One of the more venomous plants in Enrin. We always carry the antidote, just in case."

As he talked, he fiddled with the belt around his waist, which looked to be made from woven vines. There were several pouches hanging from this belt, and from one he retrieved two apparently useless items—a thin pointed stick, and what looked to be a large oval seedpod. With a deft twist of his hands, he split the pod down the middle and placed the two halves on the ground. One of the halves was filled with a thin reddish paste.

"They're a volatile plant," he continued, picking up the thin stick and placing it point-first into the paste. "They'll attack anything that gets within range."

The faun bent double and fastened his lips around the other end of the stick, to Saffron's bewilderment. Nadi was silent beside her, and she dared to sidle just a little closer. As their wings brushed together, his twitched and suddenly she was being pulled back against his side. Relaxing, Saffron watched as the faun straightened up with the twig still between his lips. She frowned.

Then, to her horror and fascination, he placed the pointed end against the side of Roku's neck and pressed down. It sank into his scales with little resistance. Saffron flinched. The faun's eyes closed, his lips pursed, and Saffron got the impression that he was slowly puffing air into the twig. Nadi stiffened beside her, but he didn't even get a chance to voice any protests before the faun sat back and removed the twig from Roku's neck.

"That's why we carry the antidote," he said, putting the seed pod back together and slipping it back into the pouch as though he hadn't done anything unusual. He looked up and smiled. "Nasty thing, that plant. I'm Satin, by the way. Who's your friend, Nadi?"

Nadi seemed too stunned by what had happened—or perhaps by Satin's calm demeanour—so Saffron spoke for him. "I'm Saffron. What exactly did you do?"

"Gave him the antidote, of course." Satin stood up and brushed the leaf-litter from his furry knees. "It'll take a little while to take effect, but he'll be right in a day or so. For now, we should get you three to the Grotto. It's never good to be caught out in the Wilds after dark."

Saffron stared from him to Roku, shaken and confused. No change appeared to have come over him, despite what Satin had said. She couldn't even be sure that he was telling the truth. But the Chronicler had sent them to find the fauns, which surely meant they were friendly. What would Satin get out of lying to them?

"How do we know we can trust you?" Nadi said, as though he had read her thoughts. Saffron gave him a worried look.

"It's either me or the forest," said Satin brightly. "And I think you've already found it's not so hospitable."

Nadi scowled, and Saffron pressed her paw on top of his. He glanced sidelong at her, and she tried to smile. It felt strained on her face. "Let's just go with him. It can't be worse than staying out here. Roku would trust him."

He sighed and touched his muzzle to her cheek. A warm fuzziness spread through her body and she leant into him, relishing the touch. It ended too quickly.

"You're right," he said, so quietly that only she could have heard. Removing his paw from under hers, he stepped over to Roku. Saffron watched anxiously as he shoved his head under Roku's body and attempted to toss him onto his back. She hurried over to help, and soon Roku was draped lengthways between Nadi's wings. His breathing seemed to have steadied.

Satin bade them to follow, and Nadi started after him with slow steps at first. Saffron pressed against his side, offering her strength. On a whim, she curled her tail uncertainly around his. She was pleasantly surprised when he squeezed back.

* * *

Spyro hadn't been sure what to expect of the Grotto, but upon seeing it, he was almost glad he hadn't formed many expectations. After all, he was certain they would have been dashed. Elora pulled back a wall of vines, and held them aside for Spyro and Sparx to step through. As the vines fell back into place behind them, Spyro stopped and stared. It was like nothing he could have imagined.

At the very least, he had expected huts like in the cheetah village. Instead, all he saw were trees—huge trees, bigger than they had any right to be, with great big hollows like open mouths at the base of their trunks. Some of these hollows were partially obscured by curtains of vines or ivy. As Spyro stared, he realised they were doorways; each an entranceway to the heart of the tree.

The forest floor was layered with soft moss, and from many branches and boughs hung lanterns that all emitted the same yellow glow. It filled the entire Grotto with warm light, illuminating the narrow pathways between huge trees and curtains of vegetation. When Spyro finally realised Elora was walking away, he shook himself out of his awed stupor and hurried after her as fast as the heavy basket in his mouth would allow.

"Weird," Sparx said as they passed between the trees. He hovered a little higher, towards the glowing lanterns above their heads.

Only then did Spyro realise that they weren't lanterns at all. They were little swarms of glowing insects, each about as big as Sparx's head. In the middle of each swarm, hanging from a branch, was what appeared to be half a large fruit—the innards of which were bright white and looked sticky. The insects darted around the hanging fruit, dipping closer and shying away in an endless dance.

"That looks kinda…tasty…" A strange glaze came over his eyes, and Sparx reached out a hand towards the fruit. One of the tiny insects flitted away from him in a swift, jerky motion.

Spyro let the basket fall from his mouth. It hit the moss with a dull _thud_. "Sparx! Don't touch that!"

Sparx flinched and shrank away from the fruit, shaking his head furiously. His hands went to his hips, and he glared at the swarm of insects as though they had done him wrong. "I didn't want your stupid fruit anyway!"

Grumbling under his breath, Sparx hovered back down to Spyro's level and folded his arms. Spyro stared, cocking an eyebrow, and Sparx returned the look with a glare. "What?"

Spyro grinned. "Nothing. I didn't think you were that hungry."

"I'm _not_." Sparx scowled. "It just looked—I mean, it kind of… Ah, whatever. Stop looking at me like that."

Chuckling to himself, Spyro grabbed the basket handle between his teeth again and continued on his way. Elora was well ahead by now, and didn't seem to have noticed that her guests were lagging behind. With Sparx on his tail, Spyro picked up the pace, grimacing as the basket swung painfully from his muzzle. If he wasn't careful, it was going to dislocate his jaw. His throat was still raspy too; he'd have battled a grublin for a simple drink of water.

"Wait up, goat-girl!" Sparx called, waving a hand.

Spyro groaned around the basket handle and Elora shot a glare over her shoulder. When her eyes fell on Spyro, the glare disappeared and was replaced by a teasing smile. She beckoned with one hairless hand, stopping between two massive trees to wait for them. Spyro caught up within seconds, and gratefully let the basket fall from his mouth.

"Welcome to the Grotto," said Elora, and there was something smug about her smile as she stepped aside.

Spyro looked past her and sucked in a short gasp. If he hadn't already put the basket down, he fancied he would have dropped it. Sparx gave a low whistle.

What they'd just walked through had been the outskirts of the Grotto, Spyro was sure. This had to be its heart. The ground was entirely covered by moss, which looked almost luminescent green in the warm glow that came from the countless insect swarms around the trees. The trees themselves surrounded a huge flat clearing that was nigh on perfectly round.

In the very centre of the clearing, looking as though it had somehow grown out of the moss, was a small stone structure. It was about as tall as Elora, as wide as Spyro's wingspan, and formed of blocky, straight edges. There were numerous insects flitting around the structure, which was covered in thin tendrils of vegetation almost like spider webs. A small wooden carving—the shape of which Spyro couldn't make out at this distance—was perched on top.

"The Shrine of Gaea," said Elora, and Spyro jumped. He coughed sheepishly and tried not to look startled. But Elora wasn't looking at him. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the stone structure. "It was built by our ancestors long ago. I'll tell you about it later. We should go see my father."

Spyro was buzzing with questions about the shrine and the strange insects that seemed to be everywhere, but he swallowed them and turned to follow Elora along the edge of the clearing. She shot a look over her shoulder. "Don't forget the basket."

There was an amused twinkle in her eye. Spyro tried not to glare as he turned back and grabbed the infuriating basket. Somehow, it seemed even heavier than before.

"Heave-ho, Spyro!" Sparx exclaimed, flitting from one side of Spyro's head to the other. "Work those muscles! You've gotta lose that extra weight somehow."

Spyro tried valiantly to ignore him as he dragged his paws after Elora. The sooner they got where they were going, the sooner he could drop the damn basket. It was a few moments before Spyro realised that he was being watched. Turning his head slightly, he found that a number of fauns had poked their heads out of the tree hollows and were eying him curiously. Elora waved to them as she passed, and they responded with a strange hand motion—crossing their arms in front of their chests and bowing their heads slightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sparx said, but Elora didn't respond.

Spyro was brave enough to raise a wing in greeting to some of the fauns, and they repeated the gesture they'd given Elora with only one arm. Feeling a little out of place, Spyro hurried on.

There was a huge tree at the edge of the clearing, bigger than any of the others, which quickly drew his eye. A curtain of ivy obscured the large hollow at the base of the tree, and the moss led right up to it. As they drew closer, Spyro could see a line of incomprehensible carvings that followed the arching line of the hollow. A small shelf of wood protruded from above the ivy curtain, and from it hung another fruit surrounded by a swarm of glowing insects.

Spyro knew immediately that this had to be the home of whoever was the leader or chief of the fauns. It was also apparent that Elora was leading them straight there. He tried not to feel too nervous, but his stomach did a strange flip-flop as they drew closer to the tree. Sparx had gone unusually quiet.

The moss was soft and pleasantly cool underpaw, almost like a natural carpet. Spyro wiggled his talons as they came to a stop outside the ivy curtain. It tickled between his toes and he fancied it wouldn't be hard to sleep on. Distracted, he almost didn't notice when Elora brushed aside the curtain. Just as she did, something occurred to Spyro. This was surely the home of the chief, but wasn't she taking them to see her father?

"Dad!" Elora called through the curtain, and her voice echoed around the hollow tree.

Spyro dropped the basket and craned his head around her, but he didn't get a chance to see much before she stepped into the tree and the curtain fell back behind her. Surprised, Spyro drew back and exchanged a glance with Sparx. The dragonfly shrugged his tiny shoulders and Spyro frowned. If he listened hard enough, he thought he could hear faint voices behind the vine curtain. He was just pondering whether or not to push it aside, and whether or not that would be considered rude, when it was suddenly swept open.

Standing in the tree's doorway was a faun quite unlike Elora at first glance. He was tall and broad-chested, with a large auburn beard that was plaited into two thick strands down to his collarbone. His long head-fur had received similar treatment, plaited and draped over his shoulders, and on the top of his head was a pair of short horns that split into two prongs each. From his chest down to the middle of his legs, he was clothed in a tunic that boasted the colours of the forest.

"So he is!" exclaimed the faun, in a booming voice that was as intimidating as it was jolly. Spyro gaped. The faun clapped his hands together loudly and started beckoning Spyro inside. "Come in, come in! It's been too long!"

Confused, Spyro looked once at Sparx, who was staring at the faun with his mouth open, and followed. The ivy brushed against his scales as he slipped through the curtain, and then it fell back into place behind him. The inside of the tree was illuminated by the same glowing insects that had been outside, only they were trapped inside lanterns that were placed or hung all around the walls. It was a single round room, but big enough to hold at least three full-grown dragons at once. There was a round carpet of moss in the middle of the floor, and two huge wooden chairs opposite the entrance. On either side of the room were beds of moss and leaves.

The walls themselves were cluttered with artefacts and creations the likes of which Spyro had never seen. He stared for several seconds at what appeared to be a colourful wooden mask, its mouth stretched into a disturbingly large grin.

"Nice digs," muttered Sparx beside Spyro's head.

The curtain swished again, and Spyro turned to see the broad-chested faun returning with the basket of fruits swinging from his hand. He carried it as though it was nothing, and deposited it easily on a small wooden table beside the entrance. Upon doing so, he turned around and smiled brightly at Spyro.

"Welcome, dragon! Spyro, was it? My little Elora told me," he added upon Spyro's confused look. The faun walked past and Spyro turned to keep him in sight, feeling a little on edge. Elora was standing beside the chairs, her arms crossed. Spyro blinked. Little Elora?

"Chief Korrin," said the male faun suddenly, stopping at Elora's side and drawing her into a one-armed hug. "That's the name. But feel free to call me what you will. Old Ginger and Great Twin-Beard have been a favourite these last few years."

"Maybe if you got rid of the beard…" Elora muttered, prying herself out of the one-sided hug.

Spyro stared. Seeing them side by side made it startlingly apparent—their eyes were the same, and the shape of their noses, as well as the auburn shade of their fur. There was no way they weren't related.

Sparx seemed to have shared his thoughts, and was just a little quicker on the uptake. "Your dad's the chief?"

Chief Korrin beamed and his eyes widened. "Is that a dragonfly I see? Haven't seen one in years! 'Course, there hasn't been a dragon in Enrin since ancient times. What's a couple of rare beasties like you doing this far west?"

"Dad, don't call them beasties." Elora rolled her eyes and gave Spyro an almost apologetic look. "Yes, this is my father. There's no need to be nervous, though. He's more jokester than chief, really. The beard's kind of scary, though."

"I'd say 'dashing'," said Korrin, stroking his twin-plaited beard with one hand.

Spyro couldn't suppress a grin. Huge and imposing as the faun chief was, something about the curve of his lips and the twinkle of his eyes was endearing and put him at ease. "Actually, my friends and I are here looking for your tribe."

Korrin's eyebrows shot up towards his hair and he stopped stroking his beard. "Truly? Well there's a tale to tell! Whatever for?"

"Wait," said Elora, holding out a hand to stop her exuberant father. "What friends? I thought it was just you and the fly."

A twinge of guilt stabbed through Spyro and he winced. He'd totally forgotten, preoccupied as he had been by Elora's offer to take him to the Grotto, to tell her about his friends. There was no way any of them could have found their way here before him. Was there? Spyro bit his lip. "I came here with a group of other dragons, but we were separated in the forest. If they're still lost out there…"

He looked from Elora to Korrin, but both fauns shook their heads. There was a worried look in Korrin's eyes that Spyro didn't like one bit.

"I'd have been informed if any other dragons found their way to the Grotto," said the chief. "How many of you are there?"

Spyro did a quick count in his head. "Eight… Nine. Not including me or Sparx. Can you help us find them?"

Korrin's hand went back to his beard, his eyes thoughtful, and Spyro held his breath. It had been almost dark when he had entered the Grotto, and he was sure the last of the sun's light would disappear in minutes if it hadn't already. His friends were out there, lost and possibly separated, and who knew what dangers lurked in the forest? Elora had said it wasn't safe at night, and they'd already found it wasn't safe during the day either.

If the fauns couldn't help, Spyro didn't know what he'd do.

"Send out a tracking team," Elora suggested, looking at her father. "They'll find them in an hour or less. It's already sundown. We can't wait much longer."

"I was going to say that myself," said Korrin, looking a little crestfallen. "You're too quick off the mark, Elora. Alright, Spyro, don't look so worried. We'll find your friends in no time. All dragons, you said?"

Spyro nodded numbly, hardly believing his luck. Were the fauns really such skilled trackers that they could find his friends in less than an hour? It didn't seem possible in a forest of such size, but he was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. There wasn't anything he could to do help his friends now, after all.

"Good, good," Korrin clapped his hands together again. "I'll find Satin, organize a team, and we'll have your friends here before dinner!"

"Satin went out to pick duskfruits the same time I did," Elora muttered. "Knowing him, he's probably not back yet."

"Fiddlesticks. I'll do it myself, then." So saying, the chief smiled brightly at Spyro and Sparx and made for the door. He looked over his shoulder just as he brushed aside the curtain. "Make our guests feel at home, won't you, Elora? It's been far too long since the Grotto has played host to a dragon."

Then the ivy curtain swung closed, and Korrin was gone. Spyro stared after him, bewildered at his sudden exit. Sparx hovered a little closer to his head, and Spyro glanced at him.

"Isn't he, like, the chief?" Sparx said. "Shouldn't he get someone else to do this stuff?"

"Dad's a very hands-on chief," said Elora. A smile tweaked her mouth. "I guess I should show you around. And don't worry so much. Your friends will be fine. Our fauns are the finest trackers around."

Spyro tried to smile. Apparently his fears were written all over his face, and there was no hiding it from Elora. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the thought that something awful had happened to his friends—or could be happening to them at this very moment. And he was stuck here, useless to them.

"Eh, I'm not worried," said Sparx. "Cynder can take care of herself."

* * *

They were lost. Utterly, hopelessly lost. Cynder stood upon the rotting trunk of a tree that had fallen some time ago, scanning the forest in every direction. There was nothing to be seen—nothing but trees, rocks, and more trees. It was so dark now that she couldn't see more than a few paces in front of her, regardless. Ember was sitting with her back to the fallen tree. Her panting sounded magnified in the silence. On a vain hope, Cynder called for Spyro once more. She received no answer, and the forest seemed to swallow up her cry.

Expelling a sigh, Cynder leapt down from the tree trunk and sat at Ember's side. The forest hadn't gotten any cooler in the wake of approaching night, and she felt stiflingly warm after exploring for so long. She was exhausted, and it wasn't hard to tell Ember was too. Defeated, Cynder let herself slump to the ground and her head fell on Ember's shoulder.

A shiver trembled Ember's body and, despite the unbearable heat of the forest, she shifted closer to Cynder. "Do you think they're okay?"

Her voice was quiet and meek, and laced with tiredness. Cynder sighed against her shoulder, glad for her company. "I don't know. I don't even know where we are."

Ember trembled again and her paw groped for Cynder's. She gave a soft, breathy whimper and laid her head on the ground. After a moment, Cynder lifted her head away from Ember's shoulder and looked up. The canopy above them was so dark that she could have been staring up into a black void. No stars; no moon; nothing. Somewhere far away, some sort of night bird trilled a haunting, hollow song.

Cynder wished it was Spyro curled up at her side. But, more than that, she wished everyone was there—that they weren't separated and alone. Comforting though Ember's presence was, Cynder couldn't help but feel that she was the pillar from which Ember drew comfort. And the feeling wasn't entirely mutual. She felt unbalanced; someone was depending on her, but she had no one to depend on. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Ember was her friend. They were equals.

If only her subconscious would believe it. Brushing aside those thoughts, Cynder stood up abruptly. Ember flinched away from her, and Cynder didn't have to look to know that she was staring. "What is it?"

Cynder didn't respond. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and thrust her head to the sky. Red energy exploded from her jaws, leaping in soundwaves straight up towards the canopy. Cynder hardly heard the high-pitched wail that emerged from her throat, but she knew it was piercing, painful, and would carry for miles. The forest around them was tinged red for a few seconds, but as her siren scream died away it fell back into shadow.

Ember was shaking on the ground, staring at her with wide fearful eyes. Sighing, Cynder turned and sat down opposite her. She raised a paw and placed it on Ember's suddenly cold cheek, and drew closer until their foreheads were touching. She closed her eyes. Ember's erratic breathing slowly returned to normal, and the trembles that wracked her body subsided. At length, Cynder retracted her paw and drew back.

Ember was still staring at her, but this time with curiosity and a hint of worry. "Why did you do that?"

"Maybe someone will have seen it," Cynder replied, trying to convey her apologies through a small smile. "Or heard it. Are you alright? I should have warned you."

"I'm okay…" Ember gave a small shake of her head and smiled weakly. It dropped from her face as quickly as it had come. "But what if something else hears it? Something…bad."

Cynder scowled and stood up. "Then we'll show it we're not to be messed with."

Ember swallowed visibly and nodded. In the silence that followed, Cynder paced beside the fallen tree and shot glances into the darkness. A warm gust of wind caused the canopy to sway, but no response to her siren scream made itself known. Eventually, her spirits falling, Cynder turned back to Ember, thinking it was best they continued on. Just as she did, something caught her eye. She froze.

Looming from the shadows behind Ember was a pair of bulging orange eyes. They were set in a flat leafy face that looked vaguely reptilian. Cynder gaped, and it stared right back. A beat of silence passed, and it was as though all time had suddenly halted around her. She saw Ember, oblivious and gazing dolefully in the wrong direction, and she saw the beast in the shadows coiling itself to pounce.

Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, and time resumed with a jolt. Cynder charged forward with a yell that startled both Ember and the creature. The thing opened its jaws, revealing two rows of serrated teeth, and gave an otherworldly hiss. Ember spun around and screamed at almost the exact same moment. She scrambled backwards as Cynder darted past her, collecting acid deep in her throat. The creature charged at the same time.

Her first bolt of acid missed entirely, splattering on the leaf-litter with an ugly hissing sound as the lizard lurched to the side. Cynder skidded to a halt as it turned its attention fully on her, a pitch-black tongue flicking from its wide mouth. Now that it was out of the shadows, she could see it more clearly. It was vaguely lizard-shaped, with a huge low-slung body mounted on four thick legs, and a flat triangular head. Armour that looked like leaves covered the entirety of its head and body, and each leg ended in a set of four wickedly curved yellow claws. It was about the length of a full-grown dragon, but only as tall as her.

With another hiss, the leaf-lizard scuttled towards her, faster than its girth should have allowed. Alarmed, Cynder leapt to the side and its huge head followed her. She flicked her wing up just in time to avoid its snapping jaws. Ember was yelling something, but she couldn't make out what. There was a sudden explosion of orange light and the lizard reeled away, hissing. The scent of smoke reached Cynder just as she noticed the embers blazing on the lizard's flank.

Taking the opportunity, Cynder opened her mouth and screamed. The lizard was engulfed head-first by crimson soundwaves, and it froze to the spot with a single hiss. When Cynder cut off her siren scream, the creature was standing stock-still, its orange eyes bugging more than usual. Snarling, she advanced upon it.

Without warning, the lizard lurched forward and Cynder barely reeled backwards in time. Serrated jaws snapped shut a bare half-inch from her chest, and a heavy paw caught her a blow to the shoulder that slammed her into the ground. Leaf-litter flew up around her, obscuring her vision for a heart-stopping moment. Seized by the claws of panic, Cynder thrashed her tail and scrambled back to her feet. Her blade struck something with a _thud_ that sent a tremor up her tail.

Something hissed close to her head. With a yell, Cynder spun around and blindly spat poison towards it. The leaf-lizard reeled backwards, and there was a frantic scuffle before another explosion of fire forced Cynder to shield her eyes. She felt the heat on her wing, and the scent of smoke grew stronger. There was a scuffle of leaf-litter, and then silence.

Her heart hammering, Cynder slowly uncovered her face. The lizard was sprawled on the ground, one of its legs charred black and held at an unusual angle. It was staring at her with wild eyes as its tongue flicked in and out between its fangs. A closer look revealed a horrible burn wound on the side of its neck that had clearly been caused by her acid shot, and another on its flank that had been caused by fire. It hissed, and Cynder took a step back.

"Wh…what is that?" Ember stammered, stepping to her side. She was panting again and smelled of smoke. Cynder shot her a glance. She looked both terrified and horror-struck.

"I don't know," she admitted, looking back at the lizard. "But I think it thought we were dinner."

The lizard hissed again and its tail jerked wildly. Ember scrambled backwards with a sharp intake of breath, but the lizard had already fallen still again. She stepped a little closer. "What do we do with it now?"

Cynder scowled and looked the lizard over. Its injuries, particularly the one on its neck, looked bad enough that it might never recover. But she wasn't sure if she could bring herself to kill a helpless creature that could no longer fight back. She looked away from its bright, animalistic eyes. "Kill it or leave it. What do you think?"

Ember looked aghast, just as she'd expected. "We can't kill it! It was just doing what predators do!"

"Then we leave it here to suffer and die on its own," Cynder muttered, and winced at how bitter her voice sounded. She hadn't meant to say that so harshly; Ember looked stricken. Cynder sighed. "There's nothing else we can do, Ember. I don't want to kill it either. Let's just…move on."

She half turned away, watching Ember and the lizard out of the corner of her eye. The pink dragoness was staring at the wounded creature with something similar to pity in her eyes. "But…"

Ember sighed and looked away, her paw moving to her necklace again. The lizard hissed and fell silent, and Cynder began to walk away. She heard Ember following, and the lizard hissed and spat behind them. Her jaw set, Cynder slipped through the trees and tried to ignore its pitiful sounds. It was a predator that had chosen the wrong prey; this was its punishment. She shouldn't have to pity it.

Soon enough, the noises of the lizard faded into the distance and silence returned. Ember trailed glumly at Cynder's tail, and neither spoke for several minutes. At length, Cynder tried to break the silence. "Thanks for helping back there, by the way. A lot of dragons would have just frozen up, but you didn't."

Ember made a quiet noise that was nothing more than acknowledgement. Cynder sighed and turned around, stopping her in her tracks. She stared hard into Ember's startled eyes. "Stop feeling guilty. If we hadn't fought back, it would have killed and eaten us both without a second thought. It's a wild animal; that's what they do."

"I know," said Ember, looking away. She looked like she wanted to say something more, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she just shook her head.

Cynder turned away. "Let's keep going. And keep an eye out. There might be more hostile creatures out now that it's dark."

Ember didn't respond, but Cynder assumed she had heard. In silence, they continued through the forest as the darkness grew steadily deeper around them. Soon it was hard to see much at all, and worry began to gnaw deeper at her stomach. Not long afterwards, she called a halt and tried once more to gain someone's attention. Her siren scream echoed through the forest and faded back into eerie silence. Cynder sat down with a bump, rubbing her eyes.

"We can't keep going," she mumbled. "We're getting tired and we can hardly see where we're going. We need to find shelter."

"Where?" said Ember, sounding as exhausted as Cynder felt. "There's only _trees_. In every direction. Have you ever slept in a tree before?"

"There's a first for everything," Cynder muttered. She rubbed her tired eyes again and was about to suggest they at least try looking for shelter, but a distant noise distracted her. She whipped her head towards it. "Did you hear that?"

Ember looked suddenly frightened. "What?"

"It sounded like…" Cynder frowned and listened hard. In the distance, she heard it again—an explosion, this time accompanied by the sound of yelling voices. She was sure of it. Gritting her teeth, Cynder leapt back to her feet. "Come on!"

She took off running without giving Ember a chance to respond, and Ember's startled exclamation followed her through the trees. Confident that she would follow, Cynder focused on the path ahead and listened hard for the noises that would lead her there. They were getting louder and more frequent by the second, and she pushed her legs faster despite the ache of exhaustion setting in. Over roots and rocks she leapt, skidding on leaf-litter and just barely avoiding trees that loomed out of the darkness ahead. The sound of her paws drumming the ground filled her head, but beyond that she could hear the sounds of battle growing ever louder.

With a great leap, Cynder exploded through the underbrush and slammed straight into something hard and sturdy. It reeled sideways under the force of the collision, and she hit the ground beside it. Something was snarling in her ears, and her limbs were tangled with that of whoever or whatever it was she had collided with. They tumbled through the leaf-litter in a blur of dark green and brown, until something caught her a blow to the underbelly and threw her off.

Cynder hit the ground hard and lay gasping for air, utterly winded and aching all over. Something scuffled beside her head, and the yelling was closer than ever before. Her head reeling, Cynder tried to pick herself up. The world spun before her eyes.

"Cynder?"

That voice. As her vision finally settled, Cynder saw a red dragon standing beside her, looking as stunned as she felt. Flame. Relief swept through her and she struggled to her feet. "Thank ancestors we found you!"

"Where—?" Flame was cut off abruptly as Ember burst through the bushes with a high-pitched squeal and threw her forelegs around his shoulders. He fell back on his haunches and Cynder stared as Ember buried her face in the side of his neck. Apparently startled, Flame slowly circled his paws around her. His eyes found Cynder's again and he frowned. "Where have you guys _been_?! We've been looking for ages! Where's Spyro?"

Cynder heart dropped into her stomach. She frantically scanned the surroundings and was momentarily distracted by the sight of Zannak standing victorious on top of a smoking leaf-lizard. Kazan stood to the side, panting. Nearby, Lumis was standing beside another lizard, the Poison Claws stained with a dark substance that had to be blood. The yelling had stopped. There was no sign of Spyro.

"He's…not with you," Cynder breathed. She sat down heavily. "I…I don't know where he is. We were separated back when the vines attacked."

Flame scowled, "Figures. What about—"

"My sister!" Zannak exclaimed, suddenly skidding to a halt beside them. His bright eyes were fixed imploringly on Cynder. "Have you seen her?"

Cynder could only shake her head, and his face fell. Kazan and Lumis approached slowly, and she saw that Kazan's scales were emitting thin plumes of smoke all the way down to his tail. He looked bitterly annoyed and exhausted. Lumis just looked tired.

"At least you're all okay," said Cynder, turning back to Flame just as he pried Ember away from himself. "But you haven't seen the others?"

"Not a sign of anyone until you appeared just now," Flame said, scowling. There was a cut below his eye that was steadily seeping blood. He swiped it with a paw and glared at the two lizards. "Those damn things attacked us out of nowhere."

"We had to fight one too," said Ember, her voice shaking. She shuddered and leaned into Flame again.

"I guess it's safe to assume the others ran into trouble as well," Lumis cut in grimly. "We should find them as soon as possible."

"If it was that easy, we'd have found them already," Flame snapped. He stood up, curling a wing around Ember and holding her close to his side. His eyes fixed on Cynder. "What do you think? It might be best if we find shelter for the night and look for them in the morning."

Reluctant though she was to leave Spyro alone in the forest, Cynder had to admit that Flame was right. It was too dangerous—the lizards had proven that already. But finding shelter was going to prove difficult in itself. She considered Ember's idea of sleeping in trees, and wondered if it was feasible after all. She didn't get a chance to suggest it.

A low whistle reverberated through the forest, piercing through the silence like a knife. Cynder flinched and spun around, but couldn't pinpoint the source. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and spun towards it, prepared to fight. One of the lizards—the one Lumis had been standing over earlier—was scrambling back to its feet. Judging from the way it was dragging one of his hind legs and tail, it had been paralysed by the Claws and had yet to fully recover. But its focus was not on the dragons. It was staring into the darkness of the forest, utterly silent, and Cynder had the odd sense that it was afraid.

Then, with a tiny hiss, it lurched around and clumsily dragged itself back into the trees. It was gone in moments. The whistle sounded again, this time louder and closer than before. Cynder braced herself, her scales prickling with unease. Whatever it was that was making that noise, it was something that the leaf-lizards feared. She didn't think she wanted to find out.

"Let's get out of here," Kazan hissed, as though he had read her mind.

Cynder nodded quickly and turned to usher them away, but they'd hardly taken a few steps before the whistle sounded again. It was so loud and piercing that Cynder winced and held a paw to her head, freezing in place.

"The heck?" Flame snarled.

Ember was trembling, and so were the bushes all around them. Cynder could hear them shaking under the onslaught of numerous creatures closing in on them. It was too late to run. She gritted her teeth and lowered into a battle stance, prepared to fight. Whatever it was, it was soon to find that she and her friends weren't going down easily.

A yellow glow pierced through the darkness, and Cynder shielded her eyes. Ember yelped beside her, and someone scrambled backwards. She heard heavy steps approach and uncovered her eyes, ignoring the bright lights and filling her jaws with poison. A growl rose in her throat.

"Found 'em!" said a voice.

Dumbfounded, Cynder blinked and let the poison drop from her mouth. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, she realised it came from numerous lanterns held by a group of bipedal creatures emerging from the trees. Creatures with cloven hooves and hairless torsos, and relieved, welcoming smiles on their strangely flat faces. Cynder sat down heavily yet again and wondered how many surprises she could take in a single afternoon.

"Wha—?" Ember sat down beside her, and one of the creatures stepped forward. He was huge and muscular, with a broad chest and an auburn beard arranged in two thick plaits. There was a jolly smile on his face.

"You had us worried for a little while, dragons, but all is well!" he said, to Cynder's great confusion. "My name is Korrin, chief of the fauns, and I'm of the impression you were looking for us?"

Cynder could only gape. He did look just like the picture that the Chronicler had showed them, if a bit bigger and broader than she had expected. But how did he know that they were looking for them?

"Who told you?" Flame demanded, getting into a defensive stance at Ember's side. His eyes flickered to and fro, taking in the group of at least ten fauns with increasing unease. The others were silently stunned.

"A purple friend of yours, of course." The faun chief winked.

Cynder could have hugged him. Her worries drained away like water in a river, and she got to her feet. "Spyro is with you?!"

"He is, he is. And let me tell you, he's a little worried about you all. So, if you will, what say we head on back to the Grotto and rendezvous with him?" Chief Korrin gestured with his huge hands, and Cynder didn't hesitate to follow.

She glanced over to shoulder to find Lumis and Ember were following just as eagerly, and Flame did too after a moment's hesitation. Kazan looked suspicious until Zannak buffeted him across the back of the head with a wing, and the two of them hurried to catch up. Surrounded on all sides by the fauns with their glowing yellow lanterns, Cynder let the chief lead them onwards through the forest.

She had to admit that travelling by lantern light was far preferable to stumbling in the dark. And the promise of seeing Spyro at the end was more than enough to chase the exhaustion from her limbs.

* * *

"That way leads to the falls." Elora pointed down a moss-lined path between the trees, which quickly turned out of sight. "I'll take you there later, before dinner. You could use a bath."

Spyro nodded absentmindedly, and only then realised that she was looking him over with a judging eye. The heat rushed to his face and he turned away, suddenly self-conscious of the layer of mud and decaying leaves that covered his scales. Elora giggled, and a weak smile tweaked his mouth. She had been showing him and Sparx around the grotto for the better part of an hour, and the whole time Spyro hadn't been able to get his mind off his friends.

What if they were hurt? Or even worse? What if the fauns couldn't find them? What if, what if… Those same questions cycled in his head without end, and Spyro simply couldn't concentrate on everything Elora told him. At the very least, he knew that the Grotto was surprisingly big, and that it was situated in the heart of the forest.

Elora had told him that there were thousands of fauns living there, and even more outside of the Grotto. The forest was so big that they rarely came into contact with these smaller tribes, and they mostly kept to themselves. Among the fauns of the Grotto, they were known as Wild Walkers—named for the 'Wilds', as the forest outside of the Grotto was called.

"Wait, where's Sparx?" Spyro asked, suddenly noticing the absence of his brother. He looked around wildly until he spotted him. His grin returned. Sparx was hovering in front of one of the hanging fruits above their heads, and the little glowing insects were giving him a wide berth. "Sparx!"

Sparx flinched and darted away from the fruit, twisting his antenna in one hand. Spyro grinned as the dragonfly looked down at him, and Sparx scowled. "Don't look at me like that! That thing isn't natural! It's got some sort of creepy witchcraft that's confusing me! Argh!"

He pulled on his antennae with both hands and flitted back to Spyro. Elora was laughing softly, and Sparx turned an accusing glare on her. "What are you laughing about?"

"Who knew dragonflies were addicted to duskfruits too?" She smirked and clasped her hands behind her back.

Spyro raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Duskfruits? You mentioned them before."

"More like evilfruits," Sparx muttered.

"They're called duskfruits because they only grow at dusk and wither by the time the moons have fully risen. We pick them to attract the lightning bugs. They can't resist them." Elora smiled and looked up. Spyro followed her gaze towards the swarms of yellow insects flitting through the branches around the fruits.

"But why do you want to attract them?" he asked.

"For light and heat," said Elora, looking back to him. "You're a dragon, so you're used to the idea of fire, but fire is against ours laws. Fire is the enemy of the forest, so we don't use it. Instead, we use the lightning bugs. The duskfruits attract them at night, they give us light, and then the fruits wither and they leave. It's a natural cycle."

Spyro stared up at the lightning bugs again. He would never have considered such a thing. Fire was such a huge part of dragon life that it seemed startlingly unusual to never use it. "That's…inventive."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it." Sparx crossed his arms and pouted, turning his face away from the hanging duskfruits.

Spyro couldn't help grinning. "Only because you can't keep away from them."

"How would _you_ like it? At least I didn't get smacked in the face with one."

"That only happened because you were being offensive!"

"Details, details."

Spyro rolled his eyes and turned back to Elora, who had been watching the exchange with a large grin on her face. She looked about to say something when a voice called out to them.

"Elora, Elora! You're never going to _believe_ what happened—!" A male faun was rushing towards them, one hand held up in greeting. He had dark brown, bushy head-fur and a bare chest, and on the top of his head were two stubby horns. As he approached, a look of excitement on his face, his eyes fell on Spyro and he slowed to a standstill. An odd look replaced the excitement, and then he folded his arms and pursed his lips—not unlike a pouting hatchling. His voice turned haughty. "Well. Apparently you are."

Spyro stared. Elora stepped past him, and there was something similar to amused exasperation in her voice. "Yes, it's a dragon, Satin. Don't look at him like that. So, what happened?"

The male faun—Satin—turned his head slightly without taking his eyes off them. "I don't know if I want to tell you now."

"Don't be a prude, Satin. You're acting like a kid."

Spyro looked from Satin to Elora and back again, wondering if he'd missed something. They seemed to know each other—at least to the point of being more than mere acquaintances. He wondered if he should introduce himself, but the timing didn't seem quite right.

Satin pulled a childish face. "Well, I wanted you to be excited, but it looks like I'm too late. But, since you asked… I came across a few dragons in the forest and brought them back here. They're in your tree right now, but Korrin isn't there so I came looking for you."

Spyro hardly heard the end of his words; his mind latched onto one thing and one thing only—other dragons. And they were in the Grotto. Fear and excitement shuddered through him and, before he could even think, he was demanding, "Where are they? Take me to them!"

Satin looked briefly taken aback before he straightened up and beckoned with a hand. "Follow me! You too, Elora!"

Spyro didn't wait to see if Elora was following, and he hardly noticed Sparx flying beside his head as he hurried after Satin. The faun seemed to catch onto his urgency, because he quickly broke into a run and Spyro cantered alongside him. They reached Chief Korrin's tree within minutes, and Spyro wasted no time in bursting through the curtains. What he saw when his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light both relieved and disappointed him.

Nadi and Saffron were standing over Roku, who was sprawled across one of the moss beds against the wall. They were both staring at Spyro in surprise, but Roku's eyes were closed and he looked unconscious. There was no sign of Cynder, but Spyro quickly squashed his disappointment. It wasn't fair to them.

"Thank the ancestors you're here," Spyro said, sitting down to catch his breath after his short sprint. The ivy curtain swished, and Satin and Elora stepped in beside him. "Are you alright?"

"We're okay," said Saffron, stepping forward. She pulled Spyro into a swift hug, to his surprise, but quickly let go. The smile on her face was strained. "I'm glad you're okay, too. When did you get here? Are the others with you?"

Spyro bit his lip and looked away, suddenly ashamed. "…They're not. I've been here for about an hour. The fauns are out looking for the others right now."

Saffron's wings drooped. "Oh."

She turned her gaze back to Nadi and Roku, and Spyro did too. The wind dragon was staring at him with an unreadable expression, but there was something daring about the look in his eyes. Nonplussed, Spyro turned his eyes on Roku. There was nothing obviously wrong with him, at least from this distance, other than the fact that he wasn't conscious.

Spyro frowned. "What happened to him?"

A visible shudder passed over Saffron's scales and she looked back at him. "Roku was poisoned. Satin says he'll be alright now, though, since he gave him the antidote."

"Oh. That's…that's good." Spyro swallowed and shuffled his paws nervously, his mind quickly returning to Cynder. What if something like that had happened to her? What if she was lying helpless and poisoned on the forest floor, alone and… No. She was immune to poison. Spyro shook his head, wondering how he'd let his thoughts get so out of paw. Cynder would be fine, and so would the others.

"Don't worry," said Saffron suddenly, as though she had read his mind. Her voice shook slightly. "I'm sure everyone will be here soon. You said the fauns are looking for them?"

Spyro nodded. Elora cleared her throat softly, and he jumped. "Ah, this is Elora. She brought us here. Elora, this is Saffron, Nadi and Roku. They're friends of mine."

"Who would have thought that, after hundreds of years of nothing, a whole bunch of dragons wind up in Enrin on the same night," Elora said with a small, lop-sided smile. "It's a bit crazy."

"Believe me, goat-girl," said Sparx, leaning an elbow on her shoulder, "crazy doesn't even begin to describe us."

"Mmhm. You know, I believe you." She pinched one of Sparx's antennas between her fingers and plucked him away from her shoulder.

"Oi! Hands off!" Spyro struggled until she let him go, and fluttered away looking affronted. Grumbling, he settled down on Spyro's head and pouted.

"So, who wants to tell us what you're all doing here, eh?" Satin clapped his hands and looked from one dragon to the other, his eyes glimmering with excitement.

Spyro smiled weakly. "I would, but I'd rather wait until everyone is here and we can talk to your chief."

Satin looked crestfallen, but Elora shooed him into a small chair beside the door and turned to Spyro. "Let's go wait for Dad. He should be back soon. Coming?"

Spyro hesitated and glanced at Sparx and Saffron. "Uh… Y-yeah, I guess. Sparx?"

"Right beside you, broseph."

"I think we'll stay," said Saffron, smiling apologetically. She shot a look towards Nadi, and there was something about her expression that piqued Spyro's interest. He considered her for a moment, wondering if he was imagining things, but decided not to question it.

"We'll be back soon," he said instead. "With the others, hopefully."

Nodding at Satin, Spyro passed through the ivy curtain after Elora with Sparx hovering at his side. Night had well and truly fallen outside, but the Grotto was still illuminated by the glow of countless lightning bugs. Sparx seemed to be making a point of looking at the ground now, as though he was afraid to see another duskfruit and be drawn in by its apparently irresistible pull.

Neither he nor Elora spoke as they made their way through the Grotto to the wall of vines that separated it from the Wilds. Elora had said that, as long as the fauns continued to pay their respects to Gaea, the goddess of nature in their culture, the forest would continue to protect them. Spyro wasn't sure he believed it, but he didn't think it right to question the beliefs of an entire culture. He had never heard of other deities besides the elusive dragon 'Ancestors.'

Soon enough, he found himself at the foot of the vine wall once again. Elora seated herself on a large root, and Spyro sat down in the moss beside her. He fidgeted impatiently as Sparx flitted to and fro above his head, gazing always at the vines and hoping that Cynder would soon appear through it. Time passed as though in slow motion, and soon Spyro found his eyelids drooping. With his belly against the soft moss, he stared at the vines and waited. Tired as his body was, he was simply too worried to sleep. And until Cynder was beside him once more, that wouldn't change.

He didn't notice when Elora started singing again, but eventually he realised that the silence was no longer unbroken and her voice was drifting softly about his head. The words were in no language he understood or had heard before, but he listened all the same. Sparx was now resting in the sharp angles of one of his horns, and quiet snoring told Spyro he was asleep.

Now all he needed was Cynder to be there.

Spyro must have drifted into a doze, because he returned to reality with a start when the sound of footsteps approached the other side of the vine wall. He dared to hope that Cynder was there at last, and it seemed to take far too long for the vine wall to be pushed aside. But suddenly Chief Korrin was there, beaming through his auburn beard as he held the vines out of the way and let his entourage stream through. Elora had stopped singing.

Spyro scrambled to his feet, and as the group poured into the Grotto, he fixated on a single dragoness. Cynder, covered in mud and looking exhausted, but whole and unharmed. Her eyes fell upon him, a smile broke across her face, and suddenly she had never looked so beautiful.

She ran to him without a word, and Spyro didn't care to speak as he drew her into his forelegs and hugged her to his chest. Her paws circled around his shoulders and she nuzzled the soft scales at the base of his jaw as he encompassed her with his wings.

He inhaled her scent—a sweet, cinnamon tang—and resolved never to let her go. Not again; he wouldn't allow himself to be separated from her. Her breath tickled the side of his neck as she sighed and raised her head.

Their muzzles met in a slow dance, and she drew her tongue along the line of his jaw. Spyro pulled her close, and met her eyes across the bridge of their snouts. Cynder's eyes seemed to smile back at him, despite the exhaustion in their depths. He wanted to tell her so many things; how he was glad she was alright, how he had been terrified to be separated from her, how he was so relieved to have her back in his wings. But the words all stuck in his throat.

"I love you," she said.

A smile tweaked the corner of his mouth. It didn't matter that the others were staring. Not really. "I love you too."

"Oh jeez," muttered Sparx. "Get a nest."

* * *

**A/N: Am I being too fluffy? Sparx thinks so. xD I think I'm turning into a hopeless romantic, because next chapter's even worse. Speaking of next chapter, as with the last two times, it's already written. And same as the last two chapters, it could probably use a fair chunk of rewriting. Expect it in another two weeks or so.**

**I'm sure you all saw Elora coming. I mean, fauns. Come on. Next chapter's a bit filler-y, but full of silly fun times and a bit of important stuff besides (aka Magic Crafter stuff). And after that... Back to Warfang we go! See you all in 2014, and have a great New Year's Eve/Day. Don't go too crazy. :P**

**And of course, thank you more than I can possible say for all of the wonderful reviews. We just passed 800 and I can't even. I'm so glad you all like reading this crazy convoluted messy plot-explosion of a story. You people are the best. See you in the new year! **

**Much love. :3**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: Alright, I'm sorry. xD That wasn't two weeks. But in fairness, I rewrote this damn chapter three times, hence why it took so long. But there's really only one way I can describe this chapter: padded with fluff. Totally not worth all the trouble it gave me. I'm sorry. xD We'll get back to more important stuff next chapter (at Warfang!). Meanwhile, enjoy the fluff.**

**You might know this story for it's Classic Spyro references. But can you spot the Skylanders reference? Don't throw rocks at me, please. It's only small. x****D**

* * *

**39.**

The roar of the waterfall echoed throughout the forest with a sound like thunder. Spyro shivered at the peak of a rocky outcropping as the spray peppered his scales. He looked over the lake that Elora had taken them to, watching as his friends paddled in the water and ducked under the falls. The glow of countless lightning bugs illuminated the forest in gold, and their tiny reflections glittered on the surface of the lake.

"Are you going for a swim?" Elora asked as she stepped up beside him.

Spyro hesitated. It had been only a little while since Cynder and the others had made it safely to the Grotto, and he hadn't yet spoken to Chief Korrin about the reason for their visit in the first place. The chief had insisted they rest and get cleaned up first, despite Spyro's protests. With the insistence of almost everyone else—except for Saffron and Nadi, who had opted to stay behind and keep watch over the still unconscious Roku—Elora had led them along a short forest path to the falls.

Now Spyro stood alone, watching as everyone else enjoyed themselves, and wishing he didn't feel so tense. Even Sparx was down there, floating on a huge curved leaf as though it was a boat crafted just for him. Spyro watched on, half envious, half impatient, and waited for the time when he could at last do what Ignitus had asked of him.

"You still awake there?" Elora's hand waved in front of his face, and Spyro stepped back.

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I was thinking."

Elora jabbed a finger at the end of his snout, smirking. "You should turn that thinking into swimming. You're filthy!"

Spyro glanced down at himself; his scales were indeed streaked with mud and traces of leaf-litter. A swim would do him good. As he glanced down again, he spotted Cynder floating with her wings out beside Ember, and the rest of his reluctance melted away. Before he could say anything, however, Elora's hand slapped him between the wings with enough force to make him cough.

"Go on, then! Everyone back at the Grotto is waiting for dinner, and you're making them wait longer. I'm not taking a muddy dragon to a clan-wide feast. Shoo!"

Spyro gave her his most reproachful look, but the twinkle of her almond-shaped eyes caused his mouth to twitch into a smile. There was something inherently friendly about her heart-shaped face. "Alright, but only because it's hot."

Trying to hide his grin, Spyro turned and padded down the narrow rocky path to the base of the falls. The stone was wet and slippery near the bottom, and he treaded carefully to avoid the accident that Zannak had suffered only minutes before. Luckily the water had been there to catch him, and he'd come up laughing with only a few scrapes to show from his trip.

"Finally joining us, high and mighty?!" Cynder yelled as Spyro reached the edge of the lake.

He grinned bashfully and stepped into the shallows, only to shiver as the cold water touched his scales. Cynder laughed as he quickly withdrew his paw, and he shot her a playful glare.

"Get over yourself, lizard-liver!" Flame yelled from across the lake. "It's not that cold!"

Spyro grimaced and didn't bother replying. He eyed the shallows for a moment before an idea caught him, and he started to back up. When he felt he was far enough away from the edge of the lake, he braced himself and broke into a run. His paws slipped on the damp stone and he half expected to lose balance entirely, but his claws found traction and he leapt from the rocks with a great push of his hind legs. He snapped out his wings and soared over the lake, riding the momentum of his brief run, until gravity kicked in and tipped him towards the water.

He hit the lakewith a splash that engulfed him entirely, filling every sense he had with water. An icy cold embrace took hold as he dived below the surface, keeping his eyes tightly shut and holding his breath. As his claws found hard ground, Spyro pushed off and rocketed back up into the open air. He took a great breath as his head breached the water, shaking droplets in all directions. It was still cold, but his body started to adjust as he began to paddle his legs.

"Jeez, Spyro, what's the deal? My own brother is trying to capsize me!" Sparx bobbed up and down with the waves that spread from around Spyro, glaring. He clung to the side of his leaf-vessel as though it was about to tip him out, but it seemed to be steadying itself despite his worries.

"Sorry, Sparx." Spyro grinned and paddled around to face Cynder, who was swimming up to him.

There was something attractive about the way the water glistened on her dark scales, and he couldn't help leaning forward to nuzzle her as she approached. She returned the nuzzle without a word, and Spyro could hear Sparx making gagging noises nearby. When he pulled back, feeling a little sheepish, he saw Sparx using his hand as a paddle to manoeuvre his leaf-boat away.

"If you're going to be all gooey lovey mushy crap, _leaf_ me out of this!" he called over his shoulder. He patted his leaf-boat and drifted away on the water, chuckling to himself.

Spyro rolled his eyes. "Typical Sparx."

"I think he's getting a little less unbearable." Cynder smirked and Spyro felt her tail brush against his beneath the water. "Maybe."

Spyro grinned and turned his head to meet her eyes. The water didn't feel so cold now; on the contrary, it was pleasantly refreshing after the afternoon he'd spent wandering in the heat of the forest. He could already feel the layers of mud peeling away with the water.

"So what's wrong?" Cynder asked. "And don't try to fool me. I saw that look on your face while you were watching us. What's got you so on edge?"

"Noth…" The word died on his lips in the face of Cynder's deadpan stare. Spyro smiled sheepishly. "Alright, I guess I'm just a bit impatient. It took us way too long to get here, and now that we're finally here, nothing is happening. Ignitus told us to make haste! And all we're doing is swimming around instead of doing what we came here to do."

Cynder snorted and swept her paw out of the water, sending a barrage of droplets into Spyro's face. He ducked with a yelp as the cold water peppered his scales, and looked up again to find Cynder grinning at him. She padded a little closer, mischief in her eyes. "Relax, Spyro. They'll still be there when we get out. We've got a whole evening to ask them what they know. And in the meantime…"

Too late, Spyro realised what was coming. He tried to turn around and flee, but he was less used to manoeuvring in the water and only managed to turn his back to Cynder before her attack struck him over the head. A wall of water splashed over him, and he jerked forward with a gasp as Cynder's laugh filled the air.

"Cynder!" He wheeled around, blinking water from his eyes, but she was already paddling away.

"Catch me if you can, hero boy!" she called over her shoulder before diving below the surface. The tip of her bladed tail flicked mockingly at him as she disappeared into the water.

Half grinning, half scowling, Spyro dived after her. As the water engulfed him completely, he convinced himself to open his eyes and was momentarily surprised that he found no discomfort in doing so. The world around him was a blur of dark blue and brown, perforated by pale golden streaks of light from the lightning bugs above the water. Narrowing his eyes, Spyro turned his head slowly from side to side.

A dark shape darted past him, and he spun around in alarm, bubbles escaping from his mouth. Water tickled his throat and he scrambled back to the surface, coughing furiously when his head broke through into the open air. By the time he recovered, he realised someone was laughing.

"You're not a fish!" Zannak yelled from underneath the falls, their roar almost drowning him out. "Dragons can't breathe water!"

Spyro grimaced and turned to give a retort, but something rocketed out of the water beside him and sent a wave crashing over his head for the second time. He almost sank below the surface but forced himself up again, taking in a huge gasp of air. Cynder's laugh sounded nearby and he whirled around, unable to keep the grin from his face.

"Got you." She winked and paddled a little closer, her eyes still shining with mischief.

"Alright," Spyro said, shaking his head and not meeting her eyes. "You got me. I surrender."

Cynder gave a quiet chuckle as he watched her paddle closer out of the corner of his eye. "That was too easy. Sure you're not being easy on me, purple b—!"

She gave a short yelp as Spyro planted his paw on the top of her head and dunked her under the water. He released her less than a second later, and she emerged coughing and spluttering, murder in her eyes. Spyro's grin wavered; maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all. He paddled around awkwardly and tried to swim away, but Cynder's weight fell on top of him and forced him below the surface.

Spyro took a great gulp of water in shock and scrambled to resurface in a panic, coughing and grimacing. Cynder treaded the water beside him, a smug look on her face as Spyro snorted water from his nostrils. He tried to glare, but his traitorous mouth twitched and curled into a smile instead.

"Truce?" Cynder asked, spreading her wings across the water to help her stay afloat.

"Truce," he agreed, pawing water from his eye. "You're too quick for me anyway."

"I need at least one advantage over you, Mr Saviour of the World." She paddled closer and tapped the end of his snout with the tip of a claw.

Spyro smiled and touched his muzzle to hers briefly. "I think you've got more than that."

She leaned forward and nuzzled away the water on his cheek. He felt her breath on his scales as she laughed softly. "Looks like I've trained you well."

They spent the next half hour floating lazily in the lake, until Spyro felt like his scales were starting to shrivel up. Eventually, he convinced everyone else to get out of the water, and Elora to climb down from the top of the waterfall—he wasn't even sure how she'd managed to climb up there. She clambered down with a lithe grace that Spyro couldn't help but admire, and directed them to a patch of moss where they could dry off.

Feeling refreshed and slightly less exhausted than before, Spyro and the others followed Elora back along the path that they had taken to the falls. When they reached the centre of the Grotto, it was even more packed with fauns than it had been when they'd left. A huge wooden pot had been placed beside the shrine, and it was easily as tall as Chief Korrin. Lightning bugs darted around the treetops, bathing the crowd of hundreds of fauns in pale gold. As Spyro and his friends stepped into view, a great hush fell where countless chattering voices had filled the air moments before.

Spyro froze as hundreds of eyes turned upon him, and was suddenly glad for the swim at the falls. At least his scales were clean. An awkward moment of silence passed, and then Elora put her hands on her hips. "What are you all staring for? Where's your manners?!"

It seemed as though a ripple passed through the ranks as every faun clapped an arm across their chest, and hundreds of voices called at once, "Welcome, dragons!"

It was a wonder the roaring welcome hadn't knocked the fruits from the branches. Spyro stood feeling windswept for a moment, then Cynder nudged his shoulder and he raised a wing. He tried to grin, despite the countless faces staring back at him. "Um… Hi."

"Eloquent," said Cynder in his ear. He could almost hear the grin in her voice. As she stepped forward slightly, her voice rang out over the Grotto. "It is our honour to be here! Thank you for accepting us into your home!"

Spyro stared at her incredulously as she turned her grin on him. Shaking his head, he followed Elora through a narrow gap in the crowd towards the centre, where Chief Korrin stood beside the massive pot. Fauns waved and smiled as they passed, and some even reached out to touch him, as though to convince themselves that he was real. A tiny faun no bigger than a hatchling brushed her hand against his leg and immediately backed away again, her eyes wide with wonder.

Spyro tried to offer her a smile, but lost her in the crowd within seconds as he was ushered along from behind. By the time he reached the inner circle where Chief Korrin was waiting, he was feeling decidedly frazzled but a little less self-conscious than before. His friends spread out around him but Cynder stayed close to his side, for which he was grateful.

"You made it!" Korrin exclaimed, spreading his arms wide as he approached. "I thought you'd gone and drowned them, Elora."

"At least I didn't try to suffocate them under hundreds of overenthusiastic fauns." Elora folded her arms across her chest and gave her father a fierce look.

He grinned unabashedly. "Oh, you know what they're like. There hasn't been dragons here in eons! Let them have their fun."

"As long as their 'fun' doesn't involve smothering our guests."

"Well they all seem to have gotten through unharmed and unsmothered." Korrin's eyes twinkled underneath his heavy red eyebrows.

"Besides," Sparx cut in, polishing his chest with his knuckles and trying to look important, "we're pretty used to getting smothered by adoring fans. Am I right?"

He turned to the crowd and spread his arms, waving both hands in the air before blowing kisses to the fauns. Spyro stared, unsure whether to be amused or exasperated. He supposed he should have expected it. Cynder made an odd noise that sounded as though she was trying to hold back laughter.

"There, no problem at all," Korrin said, his face smug.

Spyro exchanged a grin with Cynder before taking a glance around the clearing. In every direction he could see only fauns and more fauns, gathered against the backdrop of huge trees. But though most of his friends were standing around him, there was no sign of a certain three dragons. Spyro glanced at the tree where he'd seen them last and then looked up at Korrin.

"My other friends, are they…?"

"Oh fiddlesticks, almost forgot." Korrin scratched at his impressive beard and looked towards his tree. "That friend of yours—Roku, I believe I was told? Yes, him. He's still unconscious, and the other two refused to leave his side. Satin is with them for now, but we can go see them if you'd—!"

"No need, uncle," said a voice, and the crowd parted to admit a familiar bare-chested faun into the inner clearing. Satin beamed at them as he stepped aside to allow Saffron and Nadi through, walking closer together than normal and looking suspiciously like they were holding tails.

Spyro smiled with relief and walked over to greet them. "How's Roku?"

"He's still asleep and will be for a while yet," Saffron said, glancing sideways at Nadi. Her eyes seemed to twinkle. "But he'll be fine. Satin got us cleaned up, so we thought we might as well come out for dinner."

Only then did Spyro realise that, despite their absence during the trip to the falls, both dragons were free from the filth of the forest that had covered them earlier. Saffron's scales seemed to shine like topaz, and Nadi looked nothing short of a polished bronze statue. He was stiff enough, too, and there was something about the look on his face that bothered Spyro for a reason he couldn't place.

"That's good to hear," Cynder said, stepping up beside him. "I think we were all a little worried when you told us what happened."

Saffron grimaced and pressed a little closer to Nadi, and he seemed to yield slightly at her touch. Spyro briefly wondered if he should ask about them, but Korrin's voice cut him off before he'd fully processed that thought.

"So, we're all here." He clapped his hands together loudly, and Spyro turned with a start. "Let's begin before these fauns start a riot!"

Spyro hoped he was joking, but the noise of the crowd did seem to be getting louder. As Korrin turned back to face the giant wooden pot beside the shrine, he suddenly remembered why he'd been on edge earlier. "Wait, I still have to ask…!"

"There'll be time, Spyro," Elora cut in. "Let's just enjoy the feast for now."

Reluctant though he was to agree, Spyro conceded and fell silent. Cynder pressed against his side, and he glanced sideways at her. Her eyes seemed to say 'everything is fine' and he knew all she wanted was to relax and enjoy the night. It had been far too long since they'd been able to do anything of the sort, after all.

A sigh escaped his muzzle, and he turned to his friends. Ember and Flame were gazing around at the crowd of fauns, and though Ember waved and smiled at them, Spyro could see the exhaustion in her stance. Zannak was sitting down, the grin on his face looking more tired than enthusiastic, and Lumis seemed mildly uncomfortable under the eyes of so many fauns. Kazan was looking hard at Saffron and Nadi, his expression unreadable but the dark patches under his eyes all too visible.

A night to relax would do them all good.

It was only then that he realised Chief Korrin was trying, and failing, to call for attention. When only a few of the closer fauns stopped chatting, Korrin muttered something under his breath and took a large wooden club from his belt. He drew it back and swung it forward in almost the same motion, and Spyro winced as it struck the side of the huge wooden vessel with a loud, echoing _thok_.

"Silence!" Chief Korrin roared.

The clamour of conversation eased into silence, and another great hush fell upon the Grotto. Spyro felt the back of his neck prickle; it was as though the anticipation of the crowd was hanging like mist in the air. He almost wanted to hold his breath.

"Tonight," Korrin began, his voice filling the clearing without effort, "we are among guests. It is our privilege, as fauns of the Grotto, to play host to a species not seen in Enrin since the days of our ancestors. They've travelled far to meet with us, and I hope to speak for all of us when I say we plan to make the most of this opportunity. Tonight, our home is theirs. With the utmost warmth, we welcome Spyro and the dragons of Warfang to Gaea's Grotto."

A growing roar filled the clearing, and it took Spyro a moment to realise it was applause. He smiled uncertainly, a little embarrassed, and looked around at the countless faces pointed towards him. It was certainly intimidating and yet, in a way, welcoming. A heartbeat later, Spyro wondered if he should have publicly thanked Korrin and the fauns. But the chief was already speaking again.

"There will be plenty of time to speak with our guests, but for now let us feast before we all wither away like weeds! Elora, Satin, if you please."

The two fauns nodded and gathered up the small piles of duskfruits that had been placed in the moss beside the shrine. Spyro hadn't noticed them before, and he watched with interest as Elora and Satin tossed them one by one into the huge wooden pot. Deep splashing sounds told him the vessel was filled with some kind of liquid, but the rest of his thoughts were dashed when he saw what was beginning to happen.

Lightning bugs from all around the branches were edging towards the pot, apparently drawn there by the duskfruits. Some hovered about the opening, but seemed unwilling or incapable of entering whatever liquid was inside. The rest attached themselves to the sides of the vessel, appearing in such great numbers that they covered it entirely like a blanket of glowing yellow. Then, to Spyro's shock and wonder, they began to vibrate.

They shook and trembled so hard that the pot itself began to shudder, albeit it only slightly. Spyro almost jumped when he felt the wave of heat emitting from the buzzing lightning bugs, and it grew hotter with every passing second. With a deep roaring sound, the liquid inside the pot began to bubble, and steam rose from its surface towards the trees.

Spyro gaped as the lightning bugs began to peel away from the side of the pot and rise with the steam. They darted into and around it, like hatchlings playing a game of tag, and Spyro watched them until they disappeared into the canopy. With the buzzing sound of the bugs gone, only the gentle bubbling of the massive pot filled the clearing.

Chief Korrin cleared his throat. "Dig in!"

A cheer rose in the crowd, and Spyro jumped. He looked around to find everyone else was started to sit down, and quickly took a seat in the moss beside Cynder. Around him, the Grotto seemed to come to life. Fauns stepped forward with little wooden bowls in their hands, accepting portions of some sort of brownish stew from the pot via a small plug on its side. Elora soon supplied Spyro and the other dragons with the same, and Spyro stared at the bowl's contents dubiously.

He wasn't convinced when Elora told him it was made from roots and tubers of the forest and promised that he'd like it. Fortunately, his scepticism was proved unfounded and he discovered that, though not as good as fresh meat, it wasn't too bad after all. At least it was warm and filled his grumbling stomach. Even Sparx had his own bowl, though he only drained the broth and left the chunks of root matter untouched.

It took a long time to supply stew to all of the fauns, and Spyro had long since finished his by the time the last faun stepped away from the pot. Feeling warm, clean and full of food, Spyro thought he wouldn't mind falling asleep there on the moss beside Cynder. His wing was over her back like a blanket, holding in the pleasant warmth between them, and she was close enough that their scales were pressed together.

Sparx eventually descended onto his head and gave a loud yawn that Spyro caught seconds later. He groaned and rubbed his tired eyes, trying to ward off the temptation of sleep. The thought of the Magic Crafters still niggled at the back of his mind; until he had at least asked the question, he couldn't allow himself to rest.

He glanced down at Cynder to find her head resting on his shoulder and her eyes closed. She seemed to sense his gaze; a second later, she opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Spyro said quickly. "I was just…"

He trailed off, looking towards Chief Korrin, who was sitting back with his empty bowl in his lap and talking quietly with Elora. Cynder seemed to understand immediately.

"Go on, then," she said, nudging his shoulder. "Might as well get it over and done with if you're so bothered."

Feeling a little sheepish, Spyro coughed quietly to get the fauns' attention. Neither Korrin nor Elora seemed to have heard him over the buzz of conversation around them. Spyro hesitated, and a snort came from the top of his head.

"Come on, bro, that's not how you do it," said Sparx. He raised his voice until it was almost a yell. "Oi! Goat-girl!"

Elora shot him a glare almost instantly. "What do you want, buzzy?"

Spyro felt Sparx tap the top of his head. "Not me. This guy."

"Hmm?" Elora's eyes shifted down to Spyro's, curiosity replacing ire. "Something up, Spyro?"

"I just wanted to ask about—I mean…" Spyro hesitated again. Everything he wanted to say suddenly sounded awkward in his head, and he couldn't figure out how to ask what he wanted. Chief Korrin was also listening now, and it took Spyro a moment to shake his nerves away.

"Look," he finally said, "the reason we're here is because we need information. Do you know anything about a tribe of dragons called the Magic Crafters?"

Though the buzz of conversation continued uninterrupted around them, it seemed as though a sudden hush had fallen upon the inner circle. Spyro realised with a start that every one of his friends was suddenly alert and listening. Flame had sat up from his slumped position against Ember's shoulder, and even Zannak had stopped chattering incessantly to anyone who would listen, every last shred of attention fixed on Spyro and the fauns.

Spyro held his breath. This was the moment of truth. The information they'd sought ever since leaving the White Isle was at last within reach. He wouldn't know what to do if his question couldn't be answered. The fauns had to know something; they just _had_ to.

"Magic Crafters?" Chief Korrin echoed within seconds, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hair. A grin spread across his face. "Well, how's that. The first dragons to enter the Grotto in hundreds of years come seeking the last dragons who were here that long ago."

It took Spyro a moment to understand what he'd said, but when he did, sudden excitement bubbled up inside him. "So you do know about them? What can you tell us?!"

"That depends," Korrin said slowly, his hand moving up to his beard. "What do you want to know?"

Spyro opened his mouth to say 'everything', but paused, wondering if that was entirely the truth. After a moment he settled on, "Can you tell us what happened to them after they left Enrin? Where they went?"

Korrin's hand abandoned his beard slowly, and it was as though he was looking through Spyro rather than at him. "I could… But that would be boring and anticlimactic after such a trying day, wouldn't it? I've got a better idea."

"A better idea?" Cynder echoed, arching an eyebrow.

"There's a whole story behind what you're asking," said Korrin. "One that's been told over and over again throughout the generations. Wouldn't you like to hear it?"

Spyro exchanged a surprised glance with Cynder and then looked back at Korrin. "We…we would."

A story? He'd been expecting a short answer, perhaps a brief explanation of what had happened so long ago, not a whole story. But he wasn't about to protest. It was a warm night among friends; a good storytelling seemed like just the thing.

Korrin beamed so wide that Spyro could see every one of his teeth. Then he stood up, straightened his tunic, and announced, 'Well, it's best we get this rowdy crowd's attention. They'll want to hear it too!"

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, as though preparing to yell—but then he met Elora's eyes and seemed to think better of it. Muttering something under his breath, he took out the wooden club that had gone back into his belt, and swung it once more against the giant wooden pot. It made an even louder, hollow sound this time that seemed to echo all around the clearing. Conversation ebbed as hundreds of fauns turned their faces towards the inner circle.

"Good evening again, fauns and satyrs!" Chief Korrin's voice thundered through the silence. "Are we all feeling less ravenous? Less likely to wrestle a Camo for a juicy tuber? Good! Because we all know what time it is now!"

A deafening roar answered him half a second later. "Story time!"

"Story time!" Korrin echoed, his booming voice putting everyone else to shame. "Tonight, our guests have requested the telling of a certain story that I'm sure many of you already know well. And to honour our guests, tonight our storyteller shall be…me."

He spread his arms, as though encouraging the applause that quickly followed in the wake of his words. There was a wide grin on his face. "So please, sit back and get comfortable, and the story shall begin in just a moment."

The buzz of chatter returned within seconds as Elora started to clear away the empty wooden bowls. She stacked them in a neat pile and stood up, looking at her father over her shoulder. "I'll be back in a moment. The dragon mask?"

"That's the one."

In the brief silence that followed Elora's departure, Cynder leant back against Spyro's shoulder and asked, "Is this some kind of tradition?"

"Story time?" Korrin's grin widened. "It most certainly is."

Elora returned within minutes, the wooden bowls replaced by a large wooden mask. Spyro assumed it was one of the masks he had seen hung up on the walls inside Korrin's tree, and he strained to get a good look as Elora passed it to her father. But Korrin held it behind his back and prevented him from doing so—whether intentionally or not, Spyro couldn't tell.

"Your attention please." The chief's solemn voice called out over the clearing, and silence fell immediately.

Spyro held his breath.

"This is a story of the Dark Days," he continued, standing stock-still with his hands behind his back. "A story that takes place hundreds of years ago, when the fauns of Enrin were still young and naïve. But this is not a story about fauns…but dragons."

Chief Korrin raised his hands to his face and secured the wooden mask around his pointed ears. Spyro drew in a sharp breath. The mask had been carved in the likeness of a dragon's face, with a slim tapered muzzle and arching wooden horns. It was painted pure white with silvery horns and almond-shaped holes where Korrin's eyes peered through. Whoever had carved it had done so with the utmost care.

Korrin's voice filled the clearing without effort, loud and clear. "There was once a tribe of dragons, long ago, who were different from all the rest. Over the five elements they had no control, but instead were gifted with unusual powers unknown to the rest of dragonkind. They called these powers 'magic', and so became known to themselves and to others as Magic Crafters."

"At first, the Magic Crafters lived in harmony with the rest of dragonkind, for they were welcomed rather than shunned for their unusual abilities. But fate intervened one crucial Year of the Dragon, when a most unusual egg was laid. The egg was a colour unlike any dragon had ever seen, and most of dragonkind took this as a mark of future importance. They called it a miracle, and expected great things from the dragon that would hatch from such an unusual egg."

"Their enthusiasm, however, was not shared by all."

"The Magic Crafters saw this egg not as a sign of greatness, but as a warning of evil to come. Convinced that the egg would bring dragonkind nothing but misfortunate, they tried to convince their brethren to destroy it before it could hatch. Naturally, their efforts were met with scorn. Dragonkind was disgusted by their wish to kill an unhatched newborn, and few believed the warnings the Magic Crafters told."

"When the dragons refused to destroy the egg, the Magic Crafters made a hard decision. All of dragonkind had turned against them, and in the future of dragons they saw nothing but hardship and destruction. To escape the calamity, they bid farewell to their element-wielding brethren and left, never to return."

"Their journey took them far outside of the boundaries of dragon territory. Eventually, they stumbled lost and exhausted into the forest of Enrin, and there fate caught up with them. In the Wilds of Enrin, they fell prey to creatures the likes of which they'd never seen and quickly became lost. Unable to turn back and unable to go forward, they stumbled in the dark on their futile search to escape the Wilds."

"That is, until they discovered the lightning bugs. Guided by the light of insects, the Magic Crafters found their way to the centre of the forest—to a place we now know as Gaea's Grotto. It was much smaller back then, but home to the Grotto fauns—our ancestors. Though they were afraid at first, the fauns soon welcomed the Magic Crafters into their home, and so began a time of prosperity."

"Working in tandem, dragon and faun discovered how to tame the lightning bugs and brought light to the Grotto for the first time. They lived in harmony as days and weeks turned into months. But the Magic Crafters had never intended to settle."

"Still haunted by the great calamity that was to befall dragonkind, they announced to the fauns that they were soon to leave Enrin. Though the fauns begged for them to stay, the Magic Crafters would not concede. They would not stop until they reached a place where they could never be found again—a place that the rising misfortune of dragonkind would never reach."

"And so, the Magic Crafters bid farewell to the fauns of the Grotto, and at the edge of the forest, gave them one last message."

"Be proud of yourselves, children of Gaea. You have saved our lives, and we are eternally grateful. We may never meet again, but do not forget: should you ever need us, look to the north. We go where no dragon dares tread, to a place where the sun has scorched the land, and there we will weather the catastrophe that is yet to come. Stay safe, Fauns of Enrin. May Gaea protect you always."

Silence fell. Chief Korrin bowed his head and removed the mask, and as he straightened up, applause filled the clearing. It grew slowly to a roar, accompanied by sharp whistling sounds from some of the fauns, but Spyro could only sit in stunned silence. Even when Cynder joined in, pounding her paws in the moss, he couldn't bring himself to move. He tried to play the story over in his head again, but there was only one thing he could focus on.

To the north.

A place where no dragon dares tread.

A place were the sun has scorched the land.

He had never heard of such a place.

* * *

It was late at night. The crowd of fauns had not long ago retired to their beds, and a gentle silence fell upon the now mostly empty clearing. Saffron relished the moment of peace as she rested against Nadi's side. The duskfruits had withered some time ago, and only Kazan's feebly glowing crest and tailblade granted them light in the darkness. She could just make out her friends, even though they were sitting close enough that she could have reached out a wing and touched them.

"I couldn't tell you," Elora was saying, shrugging at the despairing look on Spyro's face. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Why does it all have to be so cryptic." Spyro sighed and shook his head, almost dislodging Sparx from his horn.

The dragonfly grimaced. "I know, right? Why couldn't they just say 'we're going to the beach', instead of all this kooky 'sun scorching' stuff?"

Cynder rolled her eyes. "Because that would be too easy. But let's think… What sort of a place does that description match?"

"I don't know!" Spyro exclaimed, causing Cynder to flinch. "All we know is that it's in the north, and something about the sun scorching the land…"

He trailed off into silence, and Saffron could practically hear everyone thinking. She wasn't sure herself. Thoughts of the sun scorching the land only made her think of sunrise and sunset, when it looked like the sun was touching the horizon. What sort of a place was like that all the time? Maybe somewhere that was burnt or on fire… She snorted.

"A desert," Nadi said abruptly. Saffron looked at him in surprise, and felt everyone else follow suit. Nadi hardly looked fazed by the sudden attention. "It's always hot in the desert, and nothing grows there. It's just sand and rock, like everything has been burned away."

"Where the sun has scorched the land…" Cynder muttered under her breath. She glanced at Spyro. "It makes sense."

Spyro frowned. "Is there a desert to the north?"

"Well, I'm no map, but…"

"The Badlands," Lumis cut in before Sparx could finish his sentence.

Nadi twitched suddenly, as though something had bitten him. Saffron glanced at him, but he merely shuffled in the moss and was still again. He caught her look and smiled briefly. Saffron returned the smile and leaned into him again. No one else was paying them attention, however. They were all staring at Lumis.

The oracle shrugged. "I've passed by them before, but never been into them. They're a huge desert, way up north, on the other side of the MidnightMountains."

"Close to Concurrent Skies?" Cynder wondered aloud.

Lumis's expression darkened, but he nodded. Spyro looked between them, his eyes full of unspoken anxieties. "So… You think that's where the Magic Crafters went?"

"I don't know," Lumis admitted, shaking his head. "But it's the only place I know of that fits the description in the story. A desert in the north… Where else would the sun have scorched the land?"

Spyro seemed to agree, his head nodding slowly, but his eyes were still worried. Saffron watched him anxiously. There was no doubt that he was agonizing over this, and an anxious Spyro was never a good sign.

Thankfully, Cynder came to the rescue. "Regardless, it's late and we should get some sleep. We can think more on this in the morning."

No one argued, and Saffron found herself nodding as a yawn snuck up on her. Expelling a sigh, she went to lean against Nadi again only to find him standing up instead. Startled, she stared up at him. "What's wrong?"

"Hm?" He looked at her with glazed eyes, as though he wasn't really seeing her. "Nothing. Just going to check on Roku."

Nadi turned away, and Saffron forced her tired body back to her paws. "I'll come!"

She fell into step beside him as they made their way across the moss, passing by the Shrine of Gaea. Satin had told them that the wooden statue on top of the shrine depicted Gaea herself—or at least, her mortal form—a faun-like being clothed in ivy. Saffron gave it a half-interested glance as they passed, but was too tired to look closer. She stepped a little closer to Nadi instead, and smiled when he draped his wing over her back.

Once they reached Korrin's tree, Nadi used his free wing to sweep the ivy curtain out of the way, revealing a scene still illuminated by the lightning bugs trapped in lanterns. Korrin and Satin were sitting at the rickety wooden table beside the door, and Roku's position remained unchanged. Saffron breathed a silent sigh of relief when she saw his ribs still rising and falling with breath.

"Oh, you're back," said Satin, sitting up straighter. "We were just wondering."

"How is he?" Nadi asked immediately.

"Much the same," said Chief Korrin, leaning his elbows on the table. He seemed tired. "But his breathing has steadied, which is a sign the last of the poison is probably out of his system. He'll be right in the morning."

"Good…" Nadi muttered, staring at Roku's unconscious form.

Saffron looked too, and noticed something she hadn't realised before. She glanced uncertainly at the chief. "That's your bed, isn't it?"

The chief gave a tired chuckle. "I don't mind, really. Satin can take us in for the night. You two are welcome to share the other, if you like. Elora won't mind."

The blood rushed straight to Saffron's face, and she shot Nadi a startled look. But he hadn't taken his eyes off Roku, and didn't seem to have heard Korrin's comment. She swallowed nervously and tried not to look too embarrassed. Were they really that obvious?

"That's…very kind of you," she said, hoping he hadn't noticed her discomfort. "I'd like to stay close to Roku in case he wakes up in the middle of the night."

Thankfully, Korrin didn't seem to have noticed anything. He smiled and slowly got to his feet. "And I think it's time we retired for the night, eh Satin? Big day today… Big day indeed."

Satin gave a tired nod and stood up himself, offering Saffron and Nadi a smile. Saffron bid the two fauns goodnight, but Nadi didn't say a word. When she glanced at him, she found him staring at the wall with that same glazed look over his eyes. The ivy curtain swished, and Saffron looked sharply as the fauns disappeared through it.

"Thank you!" she called, but wasn't sure if they'd heard. With a sigh, she sat down facing Nadi.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, in which Saffron merely stared at Nadi and wondered if she'd done anything that bothered him, he seemed to sense her watching eyes. She gave a tired smile as he turned to face her, and tried to think of something to say.

He beat her to it. "Are you tired?"

"I… Yeah."

Nadi nodded towards the unoccupied bed of moss and leaves. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch in case he wakes up."

Saffron's hopes to spend the night curled up in his embrace trickled out of her. "But…"

"I'll be fine," he said shortly, apparently oblivious to what she was thinking.

"That's not… I mean…" Saffron looked away, her face hot. She couldn't very well ask him to sleep beside her. That just wasn't done. And with the way he was acting, maybe she was blowing this whole thing out of proportion anyway. They'd not said a word about their relationship—whatever it was now—since the kiss. But he hadn't objected to any of her advances, and she'd just assumed that there was something there. Maybe she had been wrong.

Or maybe it was time to breach the topic they both seemed to be avoiding.

Her throat suddenly felt dry. Swallowing hard, Saffron opened her mouth and her voice cracked. "H-hey, I—"

The ivy curtain swished again. Saffron jumped and looked over to it in surprise. Standing in the entranceway was the last dragon she wanted and expected to see at that moment. Kazan's crest was still glowing, and there was a curious, almost distrusting look on his face. He stared at Saffron, and she stared back. Why was he there?

"Hey," he said in a voice that sounded like he was trying to be nonchalant, "are you coming out? Everyone is sleeping outside."

Saffron stared for a good long moment. What business did he have coming in and asking that? Why should it concern him where she was planning to sleep? Unless her brother had sent him; that didn't seem unlikely. She glanced sideways at Nadi and then shook her head. "We're staying in here tonight in case Roku wakes up."

A dark expression flickered across Kazan's face. The strained smile he'd been trying to put on faded and left nary a trace. "Both of you?"

"Yes…" Saffron said slowly, frowning. "What's it to you?"

Kazan immediately bristled defensively. "Just wondering if you think it's safe to sleep alone with a guy you barely know."

His eyes flickered towards Nadi as though daring him to speak up, but Nadi remained silent and returned the gaze evenly. Anger rose in Saffron's chest, and she tried to fight it down as she replied. "I know him well enough, _thank you_. And I feel quite _safe_ with him."

There was no mistaking the dark frown on Kazan's face this time, but it was directed at Nadi, not at her. "Really."

Saffron tensed her jaw and tried to keep her voice level. "Really."

There was a tense silence in which Kazan stared hard at Nadi, and Nadi looked coolly back. Saffron tensed and released her claws several times, the back of her neck prickling. She could almost feel the tension in the air. Something wasn't right. Who was Kazan to bother himself with her personal relationships like this? They were hardly even friends. He had no business being like this.

She was about to stand up and send him packing herself, but Nadi didn't give her a chance.

"I think you're done here," he said, his voice so cold that it could have frozen fire.

Kazan looked as though he had been slapped. Then a glare of utmost anger contorted his face and it looked for a moment as though he was going to snap. Saffron braced herself, ready to protect Nadi if she had to. Smoke curled from Kazan's scales and she could feel the heat emitting from him. He was going to burst into flames; she could see it already.

But then he whirled around so fiercely that his tailblade almost glanced across her snout, and forced his way through the ivy curtain. It was left swinging erratically in his wake, and Saffron heard him stomping his way through the moss away from the tree. Only the faint scent of smoke remained where he had been standing moments before.

Her head reeling with confusion and the remnants of anger, Saffron sat back and rubbed at her eyes. What was Kazan's deal anyway? He shouldn't have been trying to interfere in her life like that. She would have bet anything that Zannak had set him up to it. And why did he still have an issue with Nadi? He'd already proven he was on their side.

Kazan was just so infuriating. So…_stupid_!

Something brushed against her back, and Saffron jumped. She turned her face to find Nadi's eyes inches from her own, his wing curling around her. The breath caught in her throat and her head spun. Without really thinking, she pressed the tip of her muzzle to his, closing her eyes. His muzzle trailed along the line of her jaw to her cheek and she sighed.

When they parted again, all of her remaining anger had drained away. All she wanted was to press against Nadi's side and stay there for as long as possible. His wing tugged her closer, as though he'd read her thoughts and wanted it too.

"Don't bother with him," he murmured in her ear. "I'm used to mistrust."

"But it's not fair," she mumbled against his neck scales.

He nuzzled the base of her horn and she pressed into him, relishing the moment. Then, as though someone had flicked a switch in her brain, all of her doubts came rushing back. She drew away and stared hard into Nadi's eyes. He stared back patiently.

"What are we?"

Brief confusion touched his face. "What?"

"You and me." Saffron gestured between them, trying to keep the rising heat in her cheeks at bay. "We're not friends anymore. Are we?"

The corner of Nadi's mouth tugged upwards. "Aren't we? I'd say we're pretty good friends."

"But we…"

She sucked in a breath as he pressed their muzzles together once more, and when he pulled back her face felt like it was on fire. Nadi's eyes seemed to dance. "I didn't say we weren't anything more than that too."

"Ah…" She was short of breath. All of the words she'd wanted to say had chased themselves out of her head. All she could do was melt into the warmth of his embrace, her worries gone.

"I like you," he murmured against her cheek. "I really do. I didn't think I had to say it."

"I just…wanted to be sure," she mumbled.

"Are you sure now?"

"Mhmm…" Saffron went to rest her head on Nadi's shoulder, and was surprised when he suddenly stepped away. Startled, she raised her head, only to feel him wrap his tail around hers.

Without a word, he guided her towards the unoccupied bed. She followed in a daze, hardly able to reconcile with herself what had just happened. With a gentle nudge he coaxed her onto the moss, and she slowly eased herself down onto her stomach. Nadi sat down beside her and nuzzled the back of her neck, sliding a paw over her ribs and resting it in the space between her wings. He pulled her closer until she was pressed to his chest and almost entirely enveloped.

The erratic thundering of her heart gradually slowed as Saffron let herself relax. She was warm and comfortable, and he was with her. She couldn't ask for anything more.

"Better?" he whispered in her ear.

Saffron closed her eyes and squeezed his paw, hoping he understood. He gripped her tighter, and she knew he did.

_Much._

* * *

With a quiet groan, Spyro rolled over for what was undoubtedly the fiftieth time and tried to get comfortable in the moss. For a few moments, his body relaxed and he tried to focus on nothing but the darkness behind his eyelids as sleep crept upon him. Then the thoughts started to trickle back, filling his head with replays of all the information he'd received over the course of the day and evening. Everything Elora had told him about the Grotto and the shrine—how the fauns were protected as long as they continued to pray to the nature goddess Gaia. How the forest was her creation.

His shoulder pressed into the moss was starting to ache. Spyro stifled another groan and flopped onto his side, splaying his wings out behind him. He could see little in the darkness, only the outline of Cynder sleeping beside him, illuminated by the faint glow that Sparx always gave off. He stared at her as Elora's words replayed in his head yet again.

Before they'd all decided it was time to sleep, Elora had answered whatever questions they'd had about the forest and the Grotto. She'd told them about the strange leaf-like lizard creatures that Cynder and the others had run afoul of—Cameckos, she called them, though they were more often just called Camos. She'd spoken of other creatures that dwelt in the wild too, like the Giant Bowerbird whose hunting whistle the fauns had learned to mimic in order to scare off creatures that might otherwise harm them. And the Carnivorous Hellebore, the strange flower that had attacked them upon first entering the forest.

Spyro snorted softly and closed his eyes, determinedly telling his thoughts to leave him in peace. But they crept through the mental wall he tried to build and chased sleep away from his tired mind. If there was one thing he couldn't banish from his thoughts, it was the Magic Crafters. They had a direction now, however vague it was. But was there any guarantee that the Crafters were still there in the northern desert? They'd left Enrin hundreds of years ago, and vanished from the Books of Time.

Maybe they didn't even exist in the Dragon Realms anymore.

Ignitus believed they did. That should have been enough for him, but Spyro just couldn't banish those gnawing doubts. He wanted nothing more than to do what Ignitus had asked of him, and the promise of taming the dark presence inside him was both tempting and nerve-wracking. But he couldn't help but feel that this, all of this, was a waste of time.

What if they got to the Badlands and found nothing? All of it would have been for nothing. He would have deserted Warfang in its time of need for nothing. All because he'd been chasing fairytales.

Frustration rose in his chest, and Spyro sat up abruptly. Why wouldn't his thoughts just stop and let him sleep? He was so tired. Rubbing his eyes, Spyro gazed around the dark clearing. He could see faint shapes around him as his eyes slowly adjusted. It was as though he was in a world of black and grey, where all colour but the pale golden glow of Sparx had been eradicated. Sighing, Spyro gazed down at his surrogate brother.

Sparx slept on, his mouth open, splayed out across the moss. Spyro couldn't help but envy him. He wasn't even sure how late it was, only that he'd yet to get a wink of sleep. At this rate, it would be dawn before he managed at all.

It felt strangely lonely being the only one awake. Spyro gazed at the dark shapes of his sleeping friends all around him until his eyes came to rest on Cynder. Her face, illuminated by Sparx's light, was peaceful and beautiful in sleep. He felt awful just thinking about waking her up. But all he really wanted at that moment was someone to share his sleepless thoughts with.

She'd understand. Wouldn't she?

Spyro hesitated with his paw in the air, halfway to her shoulder. Maybe he should just let her sleep. Nobody wanted to be bothered in the middle of the night. But as he began to withdraw his paw again, another wave of doubt stopped him. No. He didn't want to be alone.

Cynder's scales were pleasantly warm under his paw. He shook her gently and whispered her name, but she didn't stir. Guiltily, Spyro raised his voice to a louder whisper. Another shake elicited a tiny, incoherent mumble from her, and she started to move. Spyro removed his paw, hoping he hadn't made a mistake, and Cynder's eyes slid open. For a moment they seemed glazed with sleep, or so he could tell in the darkness, and then her head shot up.

"Spyro? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he said quickly and flinched at the suspicious look in her eyes.

She sat up slowly, the last vestiges of sleep vanishing from her stance, and looked around the clearing. After a moment of silent observation, in which Spyro shuffled his paws awkwardly and wondered what to say, she turned back to him. "We don't seem to be in danger. Did you have a bad dream?"

There was something teasing about her tone. The blood immediately rushed to Spyro's face. "No! I… I couldn't sleep."

In the dim light from Sparx, he saw Cynder's brow furrow. "Have you slept at all?"

"No… Not really." Spyro averted his eyes, embarrassed. "Sorry for waking you. I just—"

"It's fine." She responded so quickly he never got to justify himself. "It's fine, Spyro."

A rush of relief swept through him, and then Cynder spread out a wing as though beckoning him closer. "Come here."

Spyro stepped forward sheepishly until their sides were pressed together and her wing was draped securely over his back. She pulled him down until they were resting on their stomachs side-by-side and placed her paw over his. Her warmth seeped into his scales and he pressed closer on instinct, resting his head against the side of her neck.

"Is that better?" she whispered.

Spyro nodded dumbly, rubbing his cheek against her scales. Her warmth and scent were reassuring, but when he closed his eyes his mind still buzzed with a thousand thoughts. With a sigh, he opened them again.

"Why can't you sleep?" Cynder murmured, squeezing his paw gently. When he didn't respond, she asked a different question. "Will you tell me what bothers you?"

"It's…" Spyro sighed and lifted his head from her shoulder, gazing up into the dark canopy. He felt like he was staring into a void of darkness, where only the tiniest patches of moonlight could break through. "I just can't stop thinking. My head feels like it's buzzing."

"About?"

He smiled wryly and looked away. "Everything."

Cynder's paw squeezed his again, firmer this time. He placed his free paw on top of hers and stared at the delicate black scales beneath his talons. She had such dainty paws, even for a dragoness.

"The Magic Crafters?"

He nodded.

"Warfang?"

Another nod.

"Us? Our friends?"

Spyro stroked her paw and closed his eyes. "Yeah. Everything."

Cynder hummed quietly and Spyro felt her nuzzle the side of his neck. "It'll be okay, you know. We'll find the Magic Crafters and they'll help us get everything under control. And Warfang will still be there when we return. Dragonkind is strong. We'll be okay."

He turned his head until their muzzles brushed together and he could just the outline of her eyes. "How can you be so certain?"

She shrugged. "I'm not. But why expect the worst when you can hope for the best? There's no use stressing over something that hasn't happened yet. If not everything goes according to plan, we'll manage. We're resourceful, you know that."

Cynder pressed their muzzles together in a slow nuzzle and pulled away again, a smile playing across her face. "And we're an unbeatable team. Even Malefor couldn't stand in our way."

Grateful for her words, Spyro returned her smile, though it felt a little strained. He wished he could share her optimism, but the niggling thoughts at the back of his mind told him otherwise. Just the act of hoping for the best seemed like it was begging for trouble. He didn't want to tempt fate. It felt like years had passed since the peaceful days he had spent with Cynder and their friends at Warfang. Years since that silly festival that was supposed to celebrate the anniversary of the end of war. A festival for peace.

So much for that. They were as far from peace as they had ever been. And Spyro was as far from home as he had ever been. He felt so misplaced; so out of his depth. Ignitus expected so much. Stop a war? How was he supposed to do that? The guardians had trained him to change the tides of war and swing victory in dragonkind's favour. That had seemed so much simpler somehow.

Things had been so much simpler four years ago. It had been terrifying, facing real danger for the first time, but he'd always known what was expected of him. And then that fateful Night of Eternal Darkness had arrived, and things had changed. _He_ had changed—in ways that both confused and terrified him. A part of him had been uncovered that night; a part he'd never known was there.

He couldn't explain it. Maybe it was caused by an outside force, like Convexity, as he had previously thought. But who was to say it wasn't just a side of him that had never come out before that night? What if it wasn't something the Magic Crafters could help with after all?

Cynder's paw squeezed his firmly, and Spyro winced more out of surprise than pain. Only then did he realise his paws had been shaking. He stilled them through sheer force of will and stared into the darkness, willing his thoughts to leave him be. He thought he heard Cynder sigh.

"Spyro? Do you remember when we first became friends?"

That threw him off guard. Confused, Spyro looked back at her, and she smiled as their eyes met. "Friends? You mean…"

He trailed off, frowning. They'd first met as enemies, and when he'd brought her back to the temple after their battle in Convexity, she had avoided him for some time. There had been a night, however, much like this one, when he'd been unable to sleep and had wandered onto the balcony. Cynder had found him there, staring at the moons, and they'd exchanged their first words since he had freed her from corruption.

Was that when it had all started?

"I was scared of you at first," Cynder said, her mouth twisting with self-amusement. "It's a bit silly. But whenever I saw you, I could only associate you with that rush of burning pain that had ripped me back to my real body. One of my most vivid memories of that time is just…seeing you floating there, surrounded by a glowing vortex, your eyes glowing with power. It was amazing, and…terrifying."

Spyro gazed at her in amazement as she let out a sigh and tipped her head to the canopy. Why was she telling him this?

"I was so lost when I woke up at the temple," she continued. "All of the memories I'd had before felt like a dream—no, more like a nightmare. They were there, but so foggy and distant that I wasn't sure if I'd really experienced them myself or been merely an observer as they happened. All I really remembered clearly were those final moments when I'd faced you in Convexity."

"It felt like I'd been…unmade. And you were the one who made it happen. I was frightened; frightened that you'd left the act incomplete and were yet to finish the job. I didn't understand why I was there, or why I existed, or why you hadn't unmade me completely."

Cynder lowered her gaze to meet his again, a sad sort of smile on her muzzle. "But then I saw you that night on the balcony. You looked so lost and confused—just like I was. I think that was the first time I really saw you for _you_. Things…weren't so frightening after that."

She gazed at him in silence for a moment, as though expecting him to carry on the tale. Spyro couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. "I was surprised when you spoke to me for the first time. I'd tried so hard to make you feel welcome. It was because of me you were there, and you were the first dragon my own age I'd ever met. I really wanted us to be friends. Even if looking at you reminded me of what you'd once been… I might have been a little scared of you too. I thought you hated me because of what I'd done."

Cynder made a soft noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff and nuzzled his cheek. Grinning now, Spyro leaned forward and rubbed their muzzles together, inhaling her scent. So much had changed.

"I guess that was why you jumped when I spoke to you on the balcony," she whispered, laughter in her voice.

"I was startled." He shuffled against her, pressing their sides together until not even air could find a way into the space between their scales. She was so warm. "But I was glad even for something small like that."

Cynder murmured in agreement. "I guess that was where it started. It took us some time to get used to each other…"

"You were always so flighty around the guardians. I never understood why they scared you."

"Well, you had all sorts of weird habits. Eating mushrooms? Painting yourself with tree-sap? Bathing in mud? And let's not forget that little nest you made in the temple gardens…"

"I was raised by dragonflies! …I didn't realise dragons don't do that sort of thing."

Cynder giggled and Spyro felt the blood rush to his face. It burned all the more when she nuzzled behind his jaw and whispered, "I thought it was cute."

He grinned stupidly and returned the nuzzle. For some time, though Spyro hardly noticed it passing, they sat pressed together and swapped stories of those peaceful days in the DragonTemple. How they'd gradually warmed up to each other, despite Cynder's fear of the guardians and Sparx's fear of _her_. How they'd tried to find a way to bring Spyro's elements back and discovered Cynder's elements were also absent.

She hadn't been sure she'd ever get them back. They'd been the powers of her corrupt self, she'd said, not hers. They never had figured out what her real element was, and Cynder had suspected she didn't actually have one—a notion that was to be proven wrong some time later.

At length, Spyro yawned loudly mid-sentence and once again realised it was the middle of the night. Cynder smirked and rested her head against his shoulder. "Feel better now?"

Surprised, Spyro stared down at her. He'd almost forgotten about all of the worries that had pervaded his restless mind not too long ago. "Yeah, actually…"

"Thought so." She sighed against his scales and snuggled closer. "Let's get some sleep. We'll be no good to anyone tomorrow otherwise."

Feeling lighter than he had in days, Spyro laid his wing over her back and let his head rest beside their entwined paws. The regret he'd felt at waking her up had long since faded; right then, he only felt lucky. Lucky that he had someone to share his sleepless nights with. Lucky that she always seemed to know what to say or to do. Lucky that Cynder was his, and his alone.

He wanted to wish her goodnight and sweet dreams, but his consciousness was whisked away to sleep before he had the chance. There were no more restless thoughts that night.

* * *

**A/N: That last scene is probably the sole reason why I like this chapter. I just needed to write it, even if it is just fluff. xD So, um... See you next time? Hopefully in less than a month this time!**

**Oh gawd I can't hold all these reviews**

**Such thanks**

**So love**

**Wow**

**(Translation: Thanks for over 900 reviews you crazy people. xD)**

**(Bored? Check out my new story 'Lost!' It updates every day! End shameless advertising.)**


End file.
